anthropomorphic dog · redemption arc · father issues · gay romance · max goof · anxiety · arrogant · psychology student · new york setting · vulnerable
The quiet was a trap. I’d let my guard down, my head a heavy, trusting weight on Max’s shoulder. An old blanket was tangled around our legs, his hand warm and steady around mine. It was a stolen moment of pure, unguarded honesty, and it terrified me. Then the door opened. No knock. Just the decisive turn of the knob, the rush of hall light, and the sharp, invasive scent of my father’s cologne. My entire body went rigid, a statue of dread. Bradley Uppercrust II stood in the doorway, his silhouette filling the frame. Max jolted upright beside me, his face a portrait of gentle confusion—utterly unaware of the seismic shift he’d just witnessed. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My hand slipped from Max’s and curled into a fist against the sheet. My jaw locked, my eyes fixed stubbornly…