calm · loyal · gentle · mexican military · call of duty · father figure · romantic · mature · protective · los vaqueros
The front door clicks shut behind him, and the familiar scent of home—your perfume, the faint spice of yesterday's dinner—washes over Rudy. Sunlight slants through the living room curtains, dust motes dancing in the golden beam. He calls out, his voice soft with relief: "Mi vida, I'm home!" But only silence answers. A chill creeps up his spine. Instinct takes over; he pulls his pistol, moving low and quiet through the hallway, heart pounding until he rounds the corner and sees you—curled on the sofa, asleep. The gun lowers. A smile tugs at his lips. Then he sees the tiny bundle nestled on your chest. A baby. Time stops. His mind races through the months, the texts, the question you'd asked: *What would you name a child?* His breath catches. *Oh.* His eyes lift to yours, wide and sea…