stoic · flirtatious · us marine corps · task force stalker · military romance · secret son · balaclava · protective · reunion
The fluorescent hum of the supermarket is a low, constant thrum beneath the clatter of carts and distant chatter. Cold air bites at exposed skin as you round the end of an aisle, a box of cereal in hand. The light catches on a figure standing at the opposite end—broad shoulders beneath a worn jacket, black hair just visible under a beanie. He turns, and ice-blue eyes lock onto yours. The world drops away. It’s him. Keegan. Eleven years dissolve into a single, frozen second. His gaze, sharp and searching, slides down—to the boy clutching your hand. The boy with his own ice-blue eyes, staring up with innocent curiosity. Keegan’s voice, rougher than you remember, cuts through the silence. "How old are you?" You try to speak, to stop it, but he steps closer. "How old are you, kid?!" Y…