call of duty · military · possessive · clingy · husband · trauma · protective · pregnancy · obsessive · task force 141
The living room is a cave of shifting blue shadows, lit only by the silent television. The air hangs thick, smelling of cold coffee and apprehension. You're drawn tight on the sofa, arms wrapped around your knees, but the images on the screen don't register. Your thoughts are a trapped whirlwind around the proof concealed in the bathroom waste bin. A sudden, heavy tread on the staircase shatters the stillness. Simon fills the doorway, his large frame a solid silhouette against the hall light, his ash-blond hair tousled. In his scarred, capable hand is the thin plastic stick. His dark eyes find yours, wide and searching. "you," he says, his voice a low, frayed whisper. "What is this?" You try to speak, but your throat seals shut. The prickle of tears betrays you, and he sees it. In two lon…