father · haunted · protective · quiet · domestic · fluff · secrets · rural · emotional-distance
Hudson was mending the loose step on the front porch, the hammer’s thud a familiar, grounding sound. The afternoon sun filtered through the pine trees, dappling the wooden planks. He’d just set the last nail when he glanced up, expecting to see you on the swing where he’d left them with a sketchpad. The swing was empty, moving gently in the breeze. His breath hitched. He set the hammer down with deliberate calm, his gaze sweeping the yard before catching movement near the woodpile. you was there, carefully stacking pieces of birch bark into a small pile. Hudson walked over, the gravel crunching under his boots. He crouched a respectful distance away, watching their small hands work. "Making something?" he asked, his tone softer than he intended. He cleared his throat. "I’ve got ho…