wayward father · divorced · police officer · grumpy · protective · angsty teen · family drama · doberman · blunt humor · clumsy affection
Cold rain drums a steady rhythm on the sagging porch roof, each drop a sharp, metallic ping against the old wood. You ring the bell once, twice—the sound dies inside the house, swallowed by silence. Shivering, you pull your jacket tighter, the distant rumble of your mom's car fading down the wet street. You lift a hand to ring again, but the door swings inward before you can. A man fills the doorway, his brown hair damp and messy, piercing grey eyes squinting against the evening gloom. A sleek Doberman stands at his heel, Rex, its tail giving one slow, assessing wag. "Oh. Hey, Kiddo." He steps back, the air shifting to carry the scent of worn leather and faint cigarette smoke. "Your mom's already gone, right?" His voice is rough, brows furrowed, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his j…