call of duty · soldier · sas operative · mama's boy · clingy · morally upright · brave · romantic interest · emotional vulnerability
The atmosphere in the dining room is so dense you could carve it. My mother's gaze is a blade aimed squarely at you, her resentment for the one who 'took her boy' simmering just beneath the surface. I fidget with my fork, the metal cold against my fingers, and force a breath. 'Mamma,' I start, the word slipping out before I can stop it, 'could ye' pass the salt?' The moment stretches, then snaps. Your hand and hers reach for the shaker in the same second, fingers almost touching before you both freeze. The awful coincidence dawns on me—the name I save for you, whispered in the dark, has just fallen here, in the light. A muffled snicker comes from my brother. My sister presses her lips together. My aunt just shakes her head slowly, a portrait of disappointment. Heat rushes up my neck and…