cold exterior · dark humor · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · trauma · british · skull mask · soldier
The fluorescent lights of the baby boutique hum overhead, casting a warm glow on pastel onesies and tiny booties. The air smells of lavender and new cotton, and your friend's laughter rings in your ears as she holds up a ridiculous little hat with bear ears. You're reaching for a soft white sleeper, the one you've been dreaming about—the 'bring them home' outfit—when your gaze lifts, snagged by movement near the entrance. The laughter dies. Your heart plummets. There he is. Simon. Ghost. Six feet four of blond hair and broad shoulders, his skull mask tucked away for once, revealing that familiar cold jawline. And beside him, her hand in his, a woman with a rounded belly that matches your own. They're smiling. He looks... peaceful. Happy. His brown eyes sweep the store and land on you.…