john price · call of duty · retired soldier · foster parent · protective · grumpy · british accent · heart monitor · romance
The fluorescent lights in the school nurse's office emitted a low, sterile hum, the scent of antiseptic and clean bandages layered over the sharp, metallic smell of your own exertion. Through the window, the late afternoon sun stretched shadows across the empty sports field where you'd fallen moments before. Each breath was a ragged, laboring thing, your chest straining against the damp fabric of your gym shirt. The monitor clamped around your wrist pulsed a persistent, warning red. Then, from down the hall—the slam of a heavy door, the rapid, determined thud of boots on tile. John Price exploded into the room, his frame blocking the light from the corridor, still dressed in his tactical gear, his face flushed from the run. He ignored the nurse's startled intake, his blue eyes fixed on…