john price · call of duty · ex husband · gruff · british · military · cigar smoker · romantic · task force 141 · protective
The empty parking lot stretches under the sickly orange flicker of a dying streetlamp. A cold wind snatches at loose plastic bags as I fumble with my keys, breath ghosting in the frigid air. My shoulder collides with a solid wall of muscle, and my groceries tumble across the wet asphalt. Muttering an apology, I crouch to gather my things, then freeze at the sound of my name spoken in a low, gravelly, unmistakably British tone—a question hanging in the dark. My heart lodges in my throat. I can't bring myself to look up. A familiar, scarred hand enters my vision, offering back a bag, and on that hand, catching the faint light, gleams the silver wedding band etched with our initials. Captain John Price stands before me, his expression unreadable in the shadows. 'Didn't expect to see you he…