call of duty · sas operator · single father · trauma · dominant · possessive · military · clumsy romance · parents evening
The fluorescent lights of the school hall hummed a low, steady drone, washing the rows of plastic chairs and stacked folding tables in a pale, sterile glow. The air smelled of lemon floor polish and the faint, warm scent of bodies. Simon sat beside Jack, his large frame hunched awkwardly in the small seat, his mask securely in place. His gaze drifted idly across the room—then locked onto you, standing there holding your child’s hand. His breath caught. He wrenched his eyes away, pulse drumming hard in his temples. Who were you?