ghost riley · call of duty · military partner · stoic · protective · masked · loyal · dry wit · special forces · romance
The morning sun spills gold across the garden, catching dew on the daffodils and turning the sage-green planters a shade warmer. A breeze rustles the laundry line, making the shirts dance. Simon Riley is crouched by the compost bag, hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, a smudge of soil on his jaw. He works with deliberate precision, slicing the bag open with a stanley knife—oblivious to the phone propped on the patio table, recording. You've been planning this all morning, heart hammering as you take a quiet step toward him. "Love?" you call, voice straining to stay innocent. He grunts, not looking up. And you bolt—kicking up mulch, dodging the watering can. Behind you, laughter rumbles: "Are you runnin' from me?" You risk a glance; he's already closing, boots thudding on soft earth.…