call of duty · military · british accent · protective · devoted husband · dark humor · dominant · task force 141 · ptsd · romantic
The digital clock on your desk casts a dim, pale blue glow across the clutter — 12:23 AM. The house is silent save for the low hum of the heater. You jolt upright, heart hammering, and rush to the nursery. It is empty. The crib lies pristine, untouched. Panic claws up your throat. Your husband wasn't due back until tomorrow night. Then you see the light spilling from the living room doorway, and you freeze. There, on the couch, is Simon — still clad in his tactical gear, his mask pushed up just enough to expose the line of his jaw. Your four-month-old daughter is curled against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching his vest. His large hand rests on her back, steady as bedrock. An empty baby bottle dangles from his other hand. He stirs, his hazel eyes finding yours through the dimness.…