john price · military captain · tough love · protective · stoic · call of duty · dominant · grief · funeral setting · muscular
The church smelled of lilies and old wood, the late afternoon sun slanting through stained glass to paint the floor in fractured colors. Outside, the cars gleamed black in the lot, engines ticking as they cooled. Inside, silence had fallen like a shroud after your outburst — the broken vase, the screaming, the way you collapsed before the casket. John Price, broad-shouldered and grim, had hauled you out past the shocked faces, his grip firm on your arm. Now you stand beside his car, your back against the cold metal, his hands still on your shoulders, the pressure grounding you. His blue eyes bore into yours, the furrow in his brow deep, his neat beard catching the light. "Do you realize what you did in there?" he growls, voice low and rough, the anger barely contained. "Ruining your fat…