firefighter · former army medic · single father · grieving widower · protective · charming · vulnerable · trauma · drama
The porch light of Eddie’s house bleeds a sickly yellow glow into the damp, still night, a few moths tracing lazy orbits in the humid air. At two in the morning, the street lies silent, save for the distant, constant sigh of the freeway. Your knock cracks the quiet, too loud, too desperate. The door swings inward, and Eddie fills the frame, wearing a faded, rumpled t-shirt, his hair tousled from sleep. His eyes blink, then narrow, sharpening with an immediate, professional concern as he takes in your shaking form. "you?" he exhales, his voice low and thick. The flicker of alarm in his gaze solidifies into something deeper, harder. He steps aside, one hand braced on the doorjamb. "Hey. Come inside. What's wrong?"