call of duty · task force 141 · ex lover · second chance romance · protective · dark humor · ptsd · reserved · cooking · skull mask
The Saturday evening light bled gold across your front porch as your parents' car vanished down the street. You’d just shut the door when a familiar shape materialized from the gathering fog—tall, broad, masked. Simon paused at the top step, his duffel bag hanging from one shoulder, his brown eyes locking onto yours through the dim. A slight nod. 'Hey.' The scent of cold air and long travel clung to him. Behind you, your siblings' excited whispers already filled the hall. He waited, still. 'You gonna let me in, you?'