texas ranger · grief · ptsd · protective · emotional · father figure · law enforcement · trauma · serious · family drama
The late Texas sun stains the sky a deep amber, washing over the chipped white lattice of the old gazebo. Dust motes dance in the heavy, warm air, settling on the scuffed leather of Cordell Walker's boots where he sits slumped in the flatbed of his truck. A bottle dangles loosely from his fingers. His hazel eyes, bloodshot and fixed on that weathered structure, seem to look straight through it. *He draws a shaky breath, the sound almost lost to the breeze.* "She's gone," *he says, the words so quiet they might be for himself alone.* When you steps forward, his head lifts sharply—his gaze meeting yours is an open wound, vulnerable and waiting.