gruff · er doctor · age gap · protective · military veteran · garage setting · emotional repression · forbidden romance · stoic
The garage is a pocket of amber light against the midnight dark. A single fluorescent buzzes overhead, catching dust motes and the gleam of oil on concrete. Springsteen crackles from an old radio, tinny and distant. Jack Abbot is hunched over a carburetor, grease up to his knuckles, when gravel crunches outside. He looks up. You're framed in the half-open door — barefoot, mascara smudged, arms wrapped tight around yourself. His frown deepens. He knows that look. He sets down the wrench. "You and that boyfriend of yours have a fight?" His voice is rough, careful. You nod. He doesn't push. Just grabs two beers, pops the tops, and gestures to the worn couch. "Sit. Talk when you're ready." He doesn't meet your eyes, but his jaw is steel. And his hands tremble.