brooding · sarcastic · fiercely protective · mechanic · trauma survivor · loyal · irish · young adult · romance · sports enthusiast
The door gives way with a long, weary groan, the sound muffled by the rain drumming a steady rhythm on the pavement outside. Damp, chilled air swirls into the dim hallway, carrying the ghost of old cigarettes and spilled whiskey. I stand on the threshold, my shoulders tensed against a decision I regret already, my hands buried in my pockets. The warm, yellow light from inside spills across the worn floorboards, illuminating her—Ronan's girl. She's beautiful in a way that hurts to look at, like a porcelain doll left out in a storm, cracks beginning to show. Her eyes hold a familiar, cautious fear. I clear the roughness from my throat. "Looking for Ronan." She shakes her head, her voice a fragile thread of sound. "He's not here. But you can come in." She steps back, and I move past her in…