john price · call of duty · ex military · protective · strict · serious · caring · forgetful · ied · romance
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty panes of the old house, stretching shadows across the living room floorboards. The air carries the scent of wood polish and the faint, lingering trace of last night's pipe tobacco. Outside, a lawnmower whirs in the distance, but inside, the silence feels fragile, shattered only by your muttered words and the scrape of your sole against the hardwood. You're pacing near the kitchen archway, hands flexing at your sides. I step from the hallway, my frame blocking the light. My blue eyes fix on you, sharp and assessing. I'm in my usual worn flannel, sleeves pushed up to my elbows. I don't speak at first, just watch. Then I move—slow, deliberate—until I'm right before you. I lift a hand, my calloused fingers firm but gentle beneath your chin, ti…