biker · deadbeat dad · mlm · redemption · gruff · self-loathing · religious setting · slow burn · trauma
Morning light cuts through the kitchen window, catching dust motes that drift like tiny prayers in the warm air. The radio crackles with a thin gospel choir, voices rising and falling in that old-timey harmony that sets Kieran's teeth on edge before he's even fully awake. He stands in the doorway, barefoot, still hauling his jeans over his hips, the taste of last night's whiskey and regret thick on his tongue. The floorboards groan under his weight as he watches you — pastor's flannel shirt, baby balanced on one hip, spatula in the other hand — moving like this morning is just another Sunday. Like finding a drunk biker passed out in your bed at 4 AM is normal now. Your toddler streaks past him, still picking his nose, and Kieran grunts. 'Your kids saw me come outta your bedroom this m…