livie

Tags: slow!!!burn, toxic relationship, daddy issues(reader), angst, avoidant attachment, hurt/comfort, gunk!nk, kn!fekink, stubborn characters, push-pull dynamic, dangerous s!x… aaand nothing more got to my mind right now 🫡

Please check it out! xx

fbi!dex headcanons!

(because I can’t keep thinking about this man)

⚠️ WARNINGS: obsessive behavior, stalking, possessive Dex, jealousy, implied violence, gunplay, weapon kink, coercive themes, reader discretion advised.

Dex stalks you from his car, watching you through a rifle scope while you’re having dinner at a restaurant with a man he has no idea about, or how he even got into the picture.

The jealousy hits him instantly. Just a couple of hours earlier, he’d been sitting across from you in that exact same restaurant.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you walk out of the restaurant together. At the door, the man pulls you into a tight hug, and Dex can barely stop himself from getting out of his car and shooting him in the head.

Once you part ways, you head home, completely unaware that Dex is following you all the way to your apartment building.

Five minutes after you get inside, there’s a knock at your door.

You open it, surprised to find Dex standing there. He looks visibly upset. Without saying a word, he gently but firmly pushes past you, making his way into your apartment.

He starts asking where you’ve been, leaving you completely confused by his behavior.

When you explain that the man was just a friend, he becomes even more jealous the moment you mention him, even though he was the one who asked.

As you instinctively try to put some distance between the two of you, clearly intimidated by his sudden appearance, he notices. He grabs your wrist and pulls you back toward him.

He leans down and whispers in your ear that you’re special to him, and that no one will ever touch you like that again. Only him.

He pins you down on the couch and slowly traces his gun over your body, from your lips down to your inner thighs.

You know you should be scared, but the entire situation is turning you on instead.

I turned, already reaching beneath my hoodie and the waistband of my jeans for the pistol. I pulled it out in one swift motion and pointed it at the figure standing behind me.

Then I realized.

Shane.

For a couple of seconds, I kept the gun trained on him anyway.

He was wearing a dark navy T-shirt and sage green cargo pants, with his rifle slung over one shoulder. Once again, my eyes caught on how muscular he was. And his face was so…

Annoyingly good-looking. Jesus Christ. I hated that I even noticed.

I gave my head a slight shake, forcing the thought away without taking my eyes off him.

“I think you should put that away now, Zoe.”

He said it in a calm, serious tone. Then one corner of his mouth curved upward ever so slightly, almost as if he was actually enjoying the situation.

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine.

As the realization finally sank in, I tucked the pistol back into the waistband of my jeans and pulled my hoodie down over it, never breaking eye contact with him.

Only then did he start walking toward me, reaching into his pocket. For a brief second, I wondered what he was about to do.

Instead, he pulled out a lighter.

There were only a few inches between us as he held the flame up to the cigarette that was still hanging between my lips.

I leaned in slightly, taking a slow drag while he kept the lighter steady.

When I looked up, he was already looking at me.

The smile on his face grew just a little wider. Just like yesterday. Just like the first time I saw him standing by the pool table.

He closed the lighter with a quiet click, slipped it back into his pocket, and took a few steps back.

“Just don’t tell your dad, aye?”

I let the smoke escape slowly before looking back at him.

“Are you following me? I’ve been back for one day,” I said, unable to hide the frustration in my voice anymore, “and somehow I’ve seen you more than I’ve seen anyone else in this town.”

Shane let out a quiet chuckle.

“This forest is my home,” he said. “So I think the better question is… are you following me?”

“You live… in the forest?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah look,” he said, motioning for me to come closer “There’s my tent.”

He nodded somewhere behind him.

I followed the direction with my eyes, expecting… honestly, I didn’t even know what I was expecting.

Instead, tucked away between the trees, barely visible through the branches, stood a military-green tent.

I should’ve left. Any normal person would’ve left. Instead, I was still standing there, cigarette between my fingers, staring at a man I’d known for less than a day, wondering why he lived in the middle of a forest like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re kidding.”

“No I’m not.”

I took another glance to the tent, then back at him.

“I don’t know whether that’s impressive or completely insane.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

After that, silence settled between us.

I kept my eyes on him, and he did the same.

Wanting to break whatever this was, I turned around and sat down on the ground. A second later, I heard his footsteps behind me before he sat down beside me.

Not too close. Not too far.

“So… Shane,” I started.

“You knew who I was ever since the fight at the bar. And this morning, while you were arguing with Kyle, I caught you mentioning me.” I turned my head toward him, taking another slow drag from my cigarette. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

“Why not ask your dad?”

“He won’t talk about it.” I let out a quiet sigh. “That’s why I’m asking you.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer.

His gaze wandered across the lake as if the answer might be waiting somewhere out there. Then his eyes dropped to the cigarette between my fingers.

“Pass me one.”

It wasn’t really a question.

I looked down at the pack before holding it up with a small smile.

“It’s all yours, I assume. Kyle’s not a smoker.” I paused for a second.

“You probably left it on the kitchen counter.”

I tossed the pack toward him, and he caught it effortlessly, pulled one out, and lit it. I found myself watching every movement without meaning to.

My eyes drifted lower, catching on his forearms before landing on his biceps. Jesus Christ. I looked away. I really needed to stop doing that.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said, finally breaking the silence again.

“You know, Zoe… sometimes it’s better to let the grown-ups handle grown-ups’ business.”

“Oh, you did not just say that to me…” I shot back, shaking my head in disbelief.

Before I could say another word, he stood up, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder.

“Go home, Zoe.”

His voice was calm.

I stood up too, facing him.

“I’m not going anywhere until—” Before I could finish, he cut me off.

“If you want answers, ask Kyle. I’m not in a position to talk to you about any of this, and I suggest you leave me out of your family problems.”

As the last words left his mouth, dark clouds began gathering above us. A low rumble of thunder echoed through the forest.

“Go home,” he said again. “It’s a lot more dangerous out here during a thunderstorm.”

He held my gaze for another second before turning around and walking away, leaving me standing there, completely stunned.

“Ask Kyle.” That was the part that wouldn’t leave… His face while said that, talking to me like I’m still a child.

My phone buzzed.

For a second I almost ignored it. I was still half stuck in the silence of the lake, like my body hadn’t caught up with the fact that the moment was already over.

But I looked anyway.

Tyler.

I just stared at the name for a moment.

Another life. Another version of everything. Before I left. Before I decided I could just step out of this place and let it disappear behind me.

I opened the message.

“Hey, I heared you’re back… Wanna meet up?”

I exhaled slowly. Not quite a sigh. Not quite anything clean.

My thumb hovered over the screen longer than it should’ve. I didn’t really think — not in words, at least. It was just this strange weight of being remembered somewhere I wasn’t supposed to belong anymore.

Finally:

“Hey, sounds good.”

The reply came almost immediately.

“Royal Bear?”

I stared at the name for a second longer than I needed to. That place. Of course that place where last night I got into trouble. Where I met Shane.

I locked my phone.

The lake was still behind me when I turned.

Summary: She wakes up to voices she wasn’t meant to hear, and ends up somewhere she shouldn’t be alone.

The sound of voices pulled me out of sleep long before the sunlight did.

At first, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They were muffled by the bedroom door, blending into the familiar creaks of the old house, and for a second I thought I was dreaming.

Then one voice became louder.

“…I’m telling you, Kyle—” Another voice cut him off.

“I don’t care what you’re telling me.” Silence.

Then both of them started talking over each other again. I frowned, still half asleep. Kyle… Who the hell was he arguing with this early in the morning?

I pushed the blanket off and rubbed my eyes before climbing out of bed. The old wooden floor groaned beneath my feet as I walked toward the bedroom door, following the voices downstairs.

The closer I got, the clearer they became.

“…You weren’t there.”

“I didn’t need to be there.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to handle this.”

“And you don’t get to pretend it didn’t happen.” — Said a voice that was too familiar from somewhere…

My hand froze on the banister, still, I started walking downstairs a little slower, careful not to make too much noise.

“…She just got back, Shane.”

Shane? Oh…

“I know she did.” — said Kyle frustrated.

“You don’t know a damn thing.”

“I know enough.”

The last step creaked loudly beneath my foot, then both voices stopped instantly.

The silence that followed was almost worse than the shouting.

I looked toward the kitchen, Kyle was standing on one side of the table, one hand braced against the countertop, jaw clenched so tightly I thought he might crack a tooth.

Across from him stood Shane.

His back was half turned toward me, but he looked over his shoulder the moment he heard the stair.

Neither of them said a word.

For a second, all three of us just… stared.

I blinked, still trying to convince myself I wasn’t imagining this.

“What…” — My voice came out rough from sleep.

“…What’s going on?”

Nothing.

Kyle looked away first.

Shane didn’t. Heyes stayed on mine… Last night, I’d thought they were sharp, cocky, always one second away from rolling his eyes or throwing out another sarcastic comment, but this morning…

They were different. There wasn’t even the hint of a smirk, no amusement, no arrogance.

His expression was unreadable, but there was something heavy sitting behind it. Something that made him look older than he had outside the bar.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept.

Like whatever argument I’d interrupted had started long before I’d woken up.

I glanced between the two of them.

“Seriously… what’s going on?”

Still nothing. The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable.

Shane finally looked away first. He reached for the truck keys lying on the kitchen counter and slipped them into his pocket.

“I should go.” — His voice was calm. Too calm.

Kyle didn’t answer, and neither did I.

Shane walked past me without another word.

As he reached the front door, he stopped for the briefest moment. Not enough to turn around. Not enough to say anything.

Then he opened the door and disappeared outside, and I stood there listening as it shut behind him.

A few seconds later I walked over to the living room window. His truck was parked crooked in the driveway, still dusty from yesterday. He climbed in, rested both hands on the steering wheel for a second as though he was thinking about something, then started the engine.

The truck backed out slowly before disappearing down the road. Only then did I turn back toward Kyle.

“What the hell was that about?”

He was already gathering the reports from the kitchen table. No answer.

“Kyle.”

He slipped the papers into a folder, picked up his coffee mug and carried it to the sink as though we’d been discussing the weather.

“I have to go.” — And with that something inside me snapped.

“No.”

He stopped.

“No, you don’t.”

He turned slowly.

I could feel my heartbeat climbing into my throat.

“You always do this.” — I said beingupset, his expression didn’t change.

“When something gets uncomfortable, you leave.”

“Zoe….”

“No.” — I shook my head.

“Don’t… You don’t get to say my name like that and walk away again.”

He stayed quiet.

Five years. Five years I’d spent wondering if coming back would change anything, and here I was, standing in the exact same kitchen, having the exact same conversation we’d been having since I was sixteen.

“Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t… Can’r or won’t?” I laughed bitterly. His shoulders dropped ever so slightly.

“It isn’t your business.”

“The hell it isn’t…” — I said incredulously.

“I wake up and find you screaming at a man who was in a fight because of me last night, and somehow that’s not my business?

“It isn’t.” —He kept repeating himself which made me more upset.

“Where do you know each other? Hm? Why is it so hard for you to tell me the truth for one time in my whole goddamn life? And why did he mention me coming home?” — I spat the questions towards him.

Kyle looked exhausted, still refusing to answer my questions. Then he opened his mouth.

“We served together… in the army.” — He let’s out a sigh.

“I’ll talk to you when I get home.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You’ve been saying that since I was a kid.”

His eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered across his face. Regret… Maybe guilt, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He grabbed his keys from the counter.

“Don’t get yourself into trouble you can’t get yourself out of.”

I folded my arms in disbelief that we’re still here after five years…

Then he was gone.

I stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the empty doorway. Five years away from this house, convincing myself I’d come back to something different. Instead, I was standing exactly where I’d started.

Still being treated like a kid, still being shut out.

Still expected to accept, without question, that there were things I simply wasn’t allowed to know.

I looked toward the window where Shane’s truck had disappeared minutes earlier.

Whatever that argument had been about… It wasn’t over, and if neither of them was willing to tell me the truth— I’d find it myself.

The silence Kyle left behind somehow felt louder than the argument itself.

With an irritated sigh, I picked up the mug he’d abandoned on the counter and poured the cold coffee down the sink. I wasn’t even sure why I bothered. Maybe I just needed something to do with my hands before I ended up punching a hole through the wall.

I opened the refrigerator, hoping that maybe food would distract me from the conversation I’d just had with him. It didn’t. I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t tired anymore either. I was just angry.

The kitchen looked exactly the way I remembered it from years ago. The same old cabinets. The same scratched wooden table. Even the stupid clock hanging above the refrigerator was still ticking louder than it had any right to. It felt like I’d walked back into a life that had been paused while I was gone, only to realize nothing had actually changed.

My eyes wandered across the counter until they landed on a pack of cigarettes. I picked it up without thinking.

It was half full, one corner slightly bent, and there wasn’t much doubt about who it belonged to. Shane must have forgotten it when he left in such a hurry.

I slipped it into the pocket of my hoodie.

I headed upstairs, figuring the best thing I could do was get out of the house before I drove myself insane. Sitting around waiting for Kyle to come home had never worked before, and I had no reason to believe today would be any different.

My bedroom was still a disaster. Half-open boxes covered the floor, clothes were draped over the chair in the corner, and my duffel bag still lay exactly where I’d dropped it the night before.

I crouched down to look for my car keys, digging through one of the boxes before realizing I’d probably left them downstairs.

Typical.

Muttering something under my breath that would’ve made my father roll his eyes, I crossed the hallway toward Kyle’s room.

I wasn’t snooping. At least, that’s what I told myself.

He’d always thrown spare keys into one of the drawers beside his bed whenever he didn’t need them, and I doubted five years had changed that habit.

The first drawer held nothing but old receipts and notebooks.

The second was full of socks.

The third slid open with a soft scrape.

Instead of keys, my eyes landed on a black leather holster.For a moment, I simply stared at it.

Kyle’s service pistol rested exactly where he’d always kept it. It looked almost untouched, apart from the worn grip that had molded itself to his hand over the years.

Without thinking, I picked it up.

The weight settled into my palm with a familiarity that surprised me. It had been years since I’d held one, but muscle memory has a funny way of surviving even when everything else changes.

Kyle had insisted I learn.

Back then I’d complained endlessly about spending my weekends at the shooting range instead of doing literally anything else, but he’d never cared much about my opinion.

“One day you’ll thank me,” he’d said more than once.

At the time, I’d been convinced he was full of shit.

Now, as I checked the magazine out of pure habit before sliding it back into place, I found myself admitting he might’ve been right.

I wasn’t taking it because I expected something to happen, and wasn’t planning on playing sheriff either. Old habits simply die hard, especially when you grow up with a father who refuses to leave the house without a firearm.

I clipped the holster beneath the back of my hoodie and pulled the fabric over it until it disappeared completely.

“If you find out,” I muttered to the empty room, “I’m blaming your terrible parenting.”

The thought made me smile despite myself. Five minutes later, I was behind the wheel with no destination in mind.

I rolled the windows down, letting the cool morning air rush through the car as I drove aimlessly through the town. Most places looked exactly the way I remembered them, while others had changed just enough to make me feel like I no longer belonged there.

I drove past the old gas station where I’d once worked a summer job, past the grocery store that somehow still hadn’t been renovated, and eventually left the last houses behind.

The paved road gave way to gravel.

Tall pine trees lined both sides of the road, swallowing the sunlight between their branches. It had been years since I’d driven this way, yet somehow my hands remembered every turn before my mind did.

When the lake finally came into view, I slowed the car and pulled onto the side of the road.

The engine fell silent, and so did everything else.

For the first time since coming back, there was no arguing, no memories demanding my attention, and no one asking me questions I didn’t want to answer.

Just the sound of the wind moving lazily through the trees.

I climbed out of the car, shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, and made my way toward the water.

It was still hidden behind the trees, still quiet enough to hear the birds somewhere across the shore, and still as peaceful as I’d remembered it.

I found the old fallen tree near the edge of the water and sat down, letting out a slow breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.

For a while, I simply watched the ripples move across the surface of the lake, then my fingers brushed against the cigarette pack in my pocket. I pulled the pack out of my pocket and took one cigarette, placing it between my lips before realizing I didn’t have a lighter. Perfect…

I let out a quiet sigh, already debating whether it was worth walking all the way back to the car, when I heard something behind me.

The sound was faint, nothing more than a branch snapping somewhere between the trees, but it was enough. Without even thinking, my hand instinctively reached for the pistol hidden beneath my hoodie as I turned around.

Instead of a stranger, I found myself staring into a pair of familiar hazel eyes.

One corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes dropped to the pistol.

Summary: Shane did what he had to do and looked good doing it! ( morally questionable men with good reflexes >>> )

By the time I reached the bar, I’d almost talked myself into turning around.

Almost.

The place looked exactly the way I remembered it—old wooden siding, a flickering neon beer sign that had probably been there since the early 2000s, and music loud enough to make holding a conversation feel like a full-time job.

I pulled the door open anyway.

Warm air, the smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke, and a chorus of laughter hit me all at once.

Some things really didn’t change.

A few heads turned as I walked in. Small town. New face.

Or maybe not exactly new. Just one they’d forgotten.

I ignored the stares and made my way to the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, drying off a glass with a towel that looked older than I was.

“Whiskey.”

“Neat?”

I nodded.

“If it’s terrible, don’t tell me.”

He chuckled.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

A few moments later, he set the glass down in front of me. I took a sip, and it burned going down. Perfect.

I leaned back against the bar and let my eyes wander around the room.

Pool table in the corner. A couple arguing over darts.

Someone absolutely butchering a country song on the jukebox.

And then there was him.

He was standing near the pool table with a cue resting over one shoulder, laughing at something one of his friends had said. Tall. Confident. The kind of guy who looked like he knew exactly how much attention he got—and enjoyed every second of it.

He caught me looking for maybe half a second, and instead of looking away like a normal person, he smirked.

Of course he did. I rolled my eyes and looked back at my drink.

Cocky. Definitely cocky. Exactly the kind of guy I’d avoid if I had any common sense.

Unfortunately, common sense had never been my strongest quality.

The bartender refilled my glass without me asking.

“Rough day?”

“You could say that.”

“Passing through?”

I laughed quietly.

“I wish.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.

Good. I wasn’t in the mood to explain my life story to a stranger.

One drink turned into two… Two turned into… honestly, I stopped counting.

I wasn’t drunk, just pleasantly numb, which was probably the closest thing to celebrating my birthday that I was going to get.

Eventually, the noise inside started getting to me.

I slid a few bills across the counter, grabbed my phone, and headed for the door.

Fresh air sounded like a much better idea.

The night air felt a hell of a lot better than the noise inside.

I leaned against the wooden railing outside the bar and unlocked my phone, scrolling through my contacts without really seeing any of the names.

Mom.

No.

Dad.

Definitely not.

A few people I’d worked with over the years.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t call any of them.

I just didn’t want to.

I sighed, locked my phone again, and slipped it back into my pocket.

“Out here all alone?”

I looked up.

Two guys.

Mid-thirties, maybe. Both carrying beer bottles, both wearing the kind of grin that immediately made me lose interest in whatever they were about to say.

“I was,” I replied.

The taller one laughed.

“Not very friendly, are you?”

“I can be.”

I looked him up and down.

“You just haven’t given me a reason.”

His friend whistled.

“She’s got attitude.”

“I’ve been told.”

Neither of them took the hint.

Instead of walking away like any reasonable person would, they stepped a little closer.

“So…” the taller one said, “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“You have now.”

“You always this hard to talk to?”

“Only when I’m trying to end the conversation.”

That earned me another laugh.

Great.

Apparently I’d become tonight’s entertainment.

The shorter one leaned against the railing beside me.

“You don’t have to be like that.”

“And you don’t have to keep standing so close, yet here we are.”

Neither of them moved.

I could smell the beer on their breath.

One of them smiled in a way that immediately made my skin crawl.

“C’mon,” he said. “A pretty girl shouldn’t spend her birthday alone.”

I blinked.

“…How do you know it’s my birthday?”

He pointed toward the bartender inside.

“He mentioned it.”

Fantastic.

“Well,” I said, “now you know something else.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d still rather spend it alone.”

Their smiles faded. Good.

Maybe they’d finally—

“You’re kinda feisty.”

“I’ve also got excellent aim.”

The taller one laughed.

“I like ’em feisty.”

“Congratulations.”

I pushed myself off the railing.

“I’m leaving.”

I barely got two steps before someone caught my wrist. That did it. I looked down at his hand, then back at him.

“You’ve got exactly three seconds to let go before this turns into the worst decision you’ve made all week.”

Instead of listening, he smiled. Wrong answer.

I looked down at his hand wrapped around my wrist, then back up at him.

“You’ve got one chance,” I said, my voice calm. “Let go.”

Instead, his grip tightened. His friend snorted.

“What are you gonna do? Hit me?” I smiled.

“I was thinking about dislocating your shoulder first.”

That wiped the grin off his face. For a second, then he laughed again.

“You’re funny.”

“No,” I replied. “You’re just too drunk to realize I’m serious.”

I shifted my weight slightly, already calculating the fastest way to break his grip. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve had no problem dropping him where he stood.

Unfortunately three glasses of whiskey and good decision-making didn’t exactly go hand in hand.

Before I could make up my mind, another voice cut through the silence.

“I think she told you to let go.”

The grip on my wrist loosened just enough for me to pull free. I took a step back, rubbing my wrist as all three of us turned toward the newcomer.

Pool table guy.

Of course.

He was tall—properly tall, the kind of height that made it annoying to argue with him just on principle. Dark hair, a little messy like he didn’t care enough to fix it, and a face that looked like it had been put together with way too much confidence and not nearly enough consequences.

There was a faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, not quite a beard, not quite clean-shaven either, like he’d decided grooming was optional and somehow still made it work. His jacket hung open just enough to look casual rather than careless, and the way he stood there—hands in his pockets, weight slightly shifted like he was bored already—gave off this irritating impression that nothing in this situation was even slightly new to him.

The taller guy rolled his eyes.

“Mind your own business.”

The stranger shrugged.

“I was.”

His gaze flicked to me for half a second before settling back on the two idiots.

“Then you grabbed her.”

“So?”

“So now it’s my business.”

I couldn’t help it, I almost laughed, then the taller guy stepped closer to him.

“You looking for a problem?”

The stranger tilted his head.

“No.”

A beat of silence.

“But if you’re offering…”

God…

The taller man shoved him so hard I barely had time to blink before everything happened at once.

The stranger caught himself, sighed—actually sighed, like this whole thing was exhausting—and drove his fist straight into the guy’s jaw.

The sound alone made me wince.

“Damn.”

The second guy charged him without thinking.

That went about as well as you’d expect.

Within seconds, both men were on the ground, groaning and trying to remember what planet they were on. The stranger dusted off the sleeve of his jacket like he’d just finished taking out the trash.

“Idiots.”

I stared at him for a moment.

Up close, he looked even more irritatingly put together. Not in a polished way—nothing about him screamed “careful” or “refined”—but in a way that suggested he’d never really had to worry about being out of control. Like he’d always known exactly how far he could push things before they pushed back.

That kind of confidence was either earned… or delusional.

I was leaning toward both…

He finally turned his head toward me.

“…You do this often?”

He looked at me for the first time since walking over.

“Only on days ending in ‘y.’”

I snorted.

“I had it under control.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

The sarcasm practically dripped off every word.

“You looked one bad decision away from getting yourself arrested.”

“I wasn’t going to get arrested.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What was the plan, then?”

“I was going to break his nose.”

He blinked.

“…Right.”

“And maybe a wrist.”

He let out a short laugh.

“I believe you.”

“Good.”

“But,” he added, “you’ve been drinking.”

“So have they.”

“Exactly.”

I folded my arms.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you step in?”

He looked at the two men still lying on the ground before answering.

“Because paperwork’s annoying.”

I frowned.

“…Paperwork?”

“If you’d broken his arm, your cop dad would’ve spent the rest of the night dealing with this mess.”

I froze.

“…My what?”

He looked at me like he’d said the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re Kyle’s daughter, aren’t you?”

There it was. The first time someone had recognized me. Or at least figured it out.

I raised an eyebrow.

“And who are you?”

A slow grin spread across his face.

“You don’t remember me...”

He put a grin on his face.

“Nope.”

His grin only got wider.

“…Well.”

“This should be interesting.”

The sound of sirens got closer fast, I let out a slow breath and glanced at the two idiots still groaning on the ground.

“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Just what I needed.”

The stranger—still standing way too close for comfort—didn’t even look bothered. If anything, he looked mildly annoyed, like the sirens were interrupting his evening routine, headlights cut through the darkness at the end of the street.

A cruiser. Of course.

It slowed as it pulled up in front of the bar, tires crunching against gravel. The moment it stopped, the driver’s door opened.

And I already knew who it was before he even stepped out.

Kyle.

My father walked around the front of the car with the kind of controlled urgency that came from doing this job too many years to count. His eyes scanned the scene once—quick, practiced—and landed immediately on the two guys on the ground.

Then on me.

Then on the stranger standing beside me.

His expression shifted slightly, but I saw it.

“…What happened here?” he asked.

No shouting,no panic, just that calm, tired voice that meant he was already mentally preparing for paperwork. As I was opening my mouth, the stranger did too.

We both stopped and looked at each other.

And spoke at the same time.

“I handled it.”

“He grabbed her wrist.”

Kyle exhaled slowly through his nose.

“I said what happened,” he repeated.

Another pause.

Then again, at the same time:

“He started it.”

“She was about to break his nose.”

I turned my head slowly toward him.

“Excuse me?”

He didn’t look at me.

Just shrugged slightly.

“You were.”

“I was not about to—”

“You literally told me you were.”

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Both of you, stop talking.”

Silence.

The two guys on the ground groaned again, which somehow made everything worse.

Kyle looked at them, then back at us.

His gaze lingered on the stranger a second longer than I liked.

That small, quiet shift that meant this wasn’t the first time he’d seen him like this.

“…Shane,” Kyle said finally.

So that was his name…

Shane just gave a small nod like this was entirely normal.

“Kyle.”

No “sir.” No “officer.” Just Kyle.

I frowned.

“You know him?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Kyle didn’t look away from Shane.

“I do.” That was all he said. Which somehow made it worse. I crossed my arms.

“Great. So I’m the only one here meeting new people by getting dragged into street fights.”

Shane glanced at me.

“You weren’t dragged.”

“I was involved.”

“You were actively participating.”

Kyle let out a tired breath that sounded like he’d aged five years in the last ten minutes.

“Okay,” he said firmly. “Everyone stop talking.”

A beat. Then he pointed at me.

“You’re coming with me.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“You,” he said again, “are coming with me.”

Then he looked at Shane.

“And you are not explaining this here.”

Shane nodded once.

“Fair.”

Which was honestly more annoying than if he’d argued.

Kyle turned back toward the cruiser, already done with the conversation.

I followed a few steps, then stopped.

Looked back.

Shane was still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching the scene like none of this had actually disrupted his evening.

And right before I got into the car, he said something barely audible… mouthing.

“See you around.”

I stared at him for half a second.

“God, I hope not.”

And somehow… I didn’t believe myself.

chapter two

Summary: She never planned on coming back. Five years after leaving town, she’s forced to return to the one place she wanted to forget. With a distant father, old memories lurking around every corner, and a birthday she’d rather ignore, home doesn’t feel much like home anymore. One quiet night at the local bar is about to change everything.

The gravel crunched softly beneath my tires as I drove slowly down the village’s main road. I eased off the gas, not because I was in a hurry, but because I couldn’t help looking around at the place I had left behind five years ago.

Nothing had really changed.

The old convenience store was still standing exactly where I remembered it, with the same weathered bench out front where the elderly men spent every summer afternoon gossiping about everyone else’s lives. The faded gas station sign hadn’t been replaced, and the church tower still overlooked the entire village as if time had simply forgotten this place existed.

It felt strange being back.

When I left at twenty, I had sworn to myself that I’d never return. Back then, I was convinced there was nothing left here for me.

My mother had walked out on us years earlier, and my father was hardly ever home. Being a police officer meant work always came first, and after a while I stopped trying to compete with his job for his attention.

So I went looking for my mother.

At the time, it felt like the right decision.

Now I knew better.

Five years were more than enough to realize that choosing between your parents sometimes only meant choosing the lesser disappointment. My mother wasn’t the safe haven I’d imagined as a child, and eventually I found myself with nowhere else to go.

Which was exactly why I was back.

I turned onto the familiar street, my stomach tightening ever so slightly.

The house looked exactly the same. The wooden fence was still standing, the porch swing my dad had built when I was little still hung from the veranda, gently moving with the breeze. For a brief moment, I wondered if anyone had even sat on it since I left.

I killed the engine and stayed in the driver’s seat for a few seconds.

I wasn’t nervous.

Not exactly.

I just had no idea how you were supposed to act around someone you hadn’t seen in five years… especially when that someone happened to be your father.

The moment I stepped out of the car, the front door opened.

I looked up.

Dad was standing on the porch.

Five years.

That was the first time I’d seen dad in five years.

He looked older. Not dramatically, but enough for me to notice. There were a few strands of gray at his temples, and the lines around his eyes seemed a little deeper than I remembered.

He was looking at me the same way I was looking at him.

Neither of us smiled.

The few feet between us suddenly felt much farther than they actually were.

“Hi….” I said eventually.

That was all I could manage.

Not “Hi, Dad. “Just… “Hi.”

He gave a small nod.

“Hi.”

Silence settled between us almost immediately. Neither of us seemed to know what came next.

Five years of distance couldn’t be erased with a simple greeting.

“Long drive?” he finally asked.

I almost laughed. Seriously? That was what we were doing?

“It wasn’t too bad.”

He nodded once more before stepping aside.

“Come in.”

I picked up my duffel bag and walked past him into the house.

The familiar scent hit me instantly.

Fresh coffee.

Old wooden furniture.

The faint smell of pine from the hardwood floors.

It hadn’t changed either.

I dropped my bag beside the couch and glanced around the living room.

“You haven’t changed much.”

“I haven’t really had the time.”

That answer, at least, sounded honest.

For the next few minutes, we talked about things that didn’t matter. The drive. The weather. Which neighbors had moved away. Safe topics.

The kind of conversation strangers have when they’re trying to avoid saying what they’re actually think.

Neither of us mentioned why I had left.

Neither of us talked about why I had come back.

And somehow, we both seemed perfectly aware that neither answer would make the conversation any easier.

Whatever conversation Dad and I had managed to piece together lasted all of ten minutes.

We covered all the important topics—how long the drive had been, whether I’d eaten, if the weather had been any different two towns over. Riveting stuff.

Neither of us brought up the obvious. He didn’t ask why I’d really come back, and I wasn’t about to explain it. If five years of silence hadn’t started that conversation, today certainly wasn’t going to.

The shrill ringtone of his phone cut through the room before either of us could come up with another painfully polite question.

Dad glanced at the screen and let out a sigh that told me everything I needed to know.

“Sorry.”

I shrugged.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m guessing someone got themselves into trouble.”

A tired smile crossed his face as he answered the call.

“Kyle.”

I watched his expression change almost immediately. It always fascinated me how fast he could switch roles. One second he was my father—awkward, unsure what to say. The next, he was all business.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing my duffel bag. “Figured.”

“I’ll probably be home late.”

“When aren’t you?” The words came out before I had the chance to stop them.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

Old habits. Old conversations. Old disappointments.

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away.

“Forget I said that.”

Kyle didn’t argue. He just nodded once.

“The fridge is full if you’re hungry.”

“I’ll survive.”

He picked up his keys, hesitated by the front door, then looked back at me.

“…I’m glad you came home.”

I wasn’t expecting that.

“Yeah,” I replied after a moment. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

One corner of his mouth twitched into something that almost looked like a smile before he walked outside.

A few seconds later, I heard the familiar sound of his patrol car disappearing down the street.

Some things really never changed.

I carried my bag upstairs and pushed open the door to my old bedroom.

It looked exactly the way I’d left it five years ago.

Same desk. Same shelves. Same faded curtains.

Either Dad was sentimental, or he’d simply never had a reason to touch any of it. Knowing him, it was probably the second option.

I unpacked enough clothes to pretend I planned on staying for a while, took a shower, and eventually collapsed onto the bed.

My phone lit up when I picked it up.

No texts. No missed calls. Nothing. Just the date.

October 5th.

Right.

My birthday.

Twenty-five.

I stared at the screen for another few seconds before tossing the phone onto the pillow.

“Happy birthday, I guess.”

Not exactly tue celebration I imagined…

Actually… I hadn’t imagined one at all.

After another half hour of staring at the ceiling and contemplating every bad decision that had brought me back to this town, I’d had enough.

There was no way I was spending my birthday alone in my childhood bedroom.

I grabbed my leather jacket, shoved my keys into my pocket, and headed for the only place in town that was guaranteed to have people, loud music, and decent whiskey.