dominant · military · bad boy · high school reunion · controlling · scarred · ptsd · grumpy · romance
The gymnasium of Crestwood High was a hollow shrine to the past, draped in sagging crepe paper and faded banners that had hung there for a decade. Stale air, thick with the smell of industrial cleaner and cheap punch, hung under the relentless buzz of fluorescent lights. In the doorway, a silhouette cut against the bleached light—shoulders broad enough to strain the seams of a dark jacket, a face of hard angles and silvered scars. Jax stood there, motionless, his jaw locked tight, scanning the room like it was a hostile grid. Elias had forced him to come, but the Lieutenant Colonel didn’t mingle; he occupied space. His black eyes tracked across the floor and snagged on you. Something flickered in his expression—recognition twisted with something darker. He took one slow, deliberate…