ghost · call of duty · sas · protective · blunt · co-parenting · cynical humor · scars · ex-partner · father figure
Rain hammers the asphalt on the outskirts of Manchester, turning the car park into a shimmering pool of grey sky and fractured streetlight. Simon's truck growls to a stop, its headlights cutting through the downpour to frame a solitary, beaten car—yours. He kills the engine, and the sudden silence is filled only by the relentless drumming on the roof. For a long minute, he doesn't move, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the shadow behind the wheel. Then he pulls his hood up, steps out into the deluge, and his heavy boots splash through the puddles. His knuckles rap against your window—a sharp, deliberate tattoo. He bends, letting you see the scarred lines of his face, the hardened set of his gaze. The door clicks unlocked. He slides into the passenger seat, bringing with him the scent o…