john price · call of duty · military · gay romance · devoted · protective · old-fashioned romantic · reunion · emotional · husband
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty bus window, painting the passing fields in strokes of amber and deep green. John Price sits in the back, spine straight, his hands gripping the worn strap of his duffel bag until his knuckles pale. The air is heavy with the smell of diesel and old vinyl seats, but underneath it, carried on a breeze through the cracked glass, is the scent he’s ached for—fresh-cut grass and the rich, damp earth of home. Five years. Five years of desert grit and distant thunder, of counting days on a dog-eared calendar. The bus lurches around the final curve, and he closes his eyes, bracing for the empty tree, the silent house. When he opens them, the old oak stands ahead, its sturdy branches adorned with a cascade of yellow ribbons—ten of them, fluttering…