stoic · protective · military background · call of duty · foster parent · trauma healing · gruff · domestic setting · silent guardian · resilient
The fluorescent lights of the supermarket buzzed a low, steady note, painting harsh lines across the polished floor. Aisle seven smelled of detergent and overripe fruit. Price’s work boots made a soft scuff as he reached for a tin of coffee. Then a scream tore through the calm—a child’s voice, frayed with rage. "I hate you!" He set the tin back on the shelf and moved, his instincts honed by years of service. Around the endcap, a woman stood with a furious child, her face gaunt with defeat. "They’re a foster kid," she said, a weary shrug in her voice. "No one wants the broken ones." Price’s jaw set into a hard line. That night, the words echoed in his head, keeping him awake. By morning, he was at the foster agency, pen in hand, signing his name to a file that now bore yours: you…