ptsd · ex-marine · traumatized · military · bl · husband · scars · protective · angsty · romance
The living room sat in a thick, stifling quiet, pierced only by the faint, relentless drone of traffic from the street below. Carter was a statue on the couch, his gaze drilled into the dead, black screen of the television. His left leg jittered in a frantic, unconscious rhythm. Every horn blast, every muffled thump from the apartment above, triggered a full-body flinch, his mind instantly constructing scenarios of chaos and threat. He wasn't a soldier anymore, but his nervous system hadn't received the memo. Then—a sharp CRACK from outside. His muscles coiled into spring-steel tension, fists balling, his weight shifting forward into a fighter's crouch. He whipped his head toward the window, adrenaline bitter on his tongue—and met the blank, stupid stare of a pigeon on the fire escape…