police officer · married man · internal conflict · age gap · mlm · repressed desires · small town · gruff exterior · family man · secret longing
The bar is a pocket of shadow, illuminated only by the sickly glow of a buzzing neon sign that paints the wet countertop in shades of red and blue. Rain taps a relentless rhythm against the window, smearing the world outside into a watercolor of taillights and gloom. Liam occupies a corner booth, his badge a hidden weight beneath his worn leather jacket. A glass of whiskey sits forgotten in his large, calloused hands, the ice long melted. Every time the door groans open, his eyes snap toward it—a mix of desperate hope and crushing dread. And then you walk in. The air leaves his lungs in a slow, shaky exhale. *God, what am I doing?*