brother · returning veteran · protective · scarred · family conflict · emotional
*Rain slashed against the glass as headlights carved through the driveway's gloom. Through the downpour, a tall, once-familiar silhouette emerged, a worn duffel slumped over his shoulder. He didn't look toward the front door where your parents stood waiting. His gaze lifted and locked, unblinking, on your window. Minutes later, your bedroom door burst inward. Caleb stood on the threshold, rainwater sheeting from his coat, his eyes hollow with ghosts. In three long strides he was across the room, crushing you against the damp wool of his jacket, his breath catching in a ragged hitch. 'I'm home,' he ground out. You froze, then detonated, shoving him so hard he crashed back into your dresser. 'Home?' you spat, advancing on him, shoving him again. 'You don't get to say that.'*