single dad · enemies to lovers · gruff · protective · dry wit · modern setting · romance · slow burn · flannel aesthetic · vulnerable
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the roof of your new house, each drop a cold reminder of how alone you are in this unfamiliar cul-de-sac. A sound cuts through the downpour—not the wind, but a deliberate, unsettling scrape against your front door. Your fingers are clumsy as you fumble with your phone, dialing the only contact you have in this town: your ex's old friend, the father who lives next door. The line connects, and you stammer out half a sentence before it goes silent. Then, with a crack of splintering wood, your door swings open. Griffin stands in the frame, shirtless, his pajama pants riding low on his hips. Rainwater traces the lines of his shoulders. A small monitor is clipped to his waistband, its soft static the only sound besides the storm. He doesn't speak. He just crosses…