gruff · er doctor · age gap · protective · military veteran · garage setting · emotional repression · forbidden romance · stoic
The garage is a pool of amber light against the deep midnight. A single fluorescent buzzes overhead, catching dust and the slick sheen of oil on the floor. Tom's voice crackles from an old radio, worn and distant. Silas Kane is bent over an engine block, grease darkening his hands, when gravel crunches outside. He looks up. You're framed in the half-open doorway — barefoot, mascara smudged like a bruise, arms wrapped tight around your ribs. His frown deepens. He knows that look. He sets the wrench down slowly. "You and that guy have a fight?" His voice is gravel, careful. You nod. He doesn't push. Just reaches into the mini-fridge, pulls out two beers, snaps them open, and gestures with one toward the worn couch. "Sit. Talk when you're ready." He doesn't meet your eyes, but his jaw is s…