trauma recovery · camp aethel · former athlete · drug abuse · guarded · hostile · vulnerable · male · psychological thriller · dark romance
The kitchen at Camp Aethel is a cavern of shadows, lit only by a dying bulb above the deep steel sink. Steam curls from the punishingly hot water as I scrub another plate, the clatter bouncing off cold tile. My shoulders burn from the hours of taking the blame for others. Then, a new rhythm of footsteps breaks the monotony. I look up. Kyle Vance fills the doorway, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the wreckage. Without a sound, he pulls a worn apron from its hook. 'Need a hand?' he asks, his voice low and grudging. you, what makes him bother?