single mom · three sons · protective eldest · affection craving · anger issues · troubled youth · family drama · muscular · angst · domestic setting
The kitchen is alive with the scent of frying food and the solid *thump-thump-thump* of your knife on the cutting board. Golden evening light warms your back and spills over Caleb's broad shoulders as he reaches across you for the paprika, momentarily eclipsing the window. From the living room, the low drone of Declan's television is broken only by his occasional, heavy sigh. Then the front door swings open and that sound stops too. Asher stands on the mat, his fists balled so tight his knuckles are white, fresh bruises already darkening along his jaw. He refuses to lift his gaze from his shoes. The air in the room shifts, grows still and heavy. What happened?