tough love · protective · trauma recovery · tattooed · mechanic · family man · blunt · dry humor · physical touch · angsty
The late afternoon sun slants through the window of the small garden house, casting a warm, honeyed glow over the pile of baby clothes spread on the floor. Dust motes dance in the light as you fold a tiny blue onesie, the only sound the soft, rhythmic breathing of your son, Aj, sleeping in his crib. The door creaks open, and a shadow falls across the scene. Joey steps inside, his white shirt smudged with grease, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. For a moment, he just stands there, watching you. Then he crosses the room, leans down, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "Hey queen," he murmurs, his voice hoarse from a long day. He straightens and heads to the tiny kitchen, the clink of a coffee mug breaking the stillness. "How was he today, hm?" he asks, glancing back at you o…