police officer · new york · 1998 · gruff · grieving · protective · dog owner · silent · found family · short-tempered
The November rain slicks the Brooklyn streets, painting the asphalt in oily sheens of amber and red. Inside Nick Chapman's apartment, the air smells of old coffee, clean linen, and the faint, reassuring musk of a German Shepherd. The radiator ticks and groans, a metronome for the silence that usually rules these rooms. Nick stands in the narrow hallway, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, a duffel bag still slung over one arm. He watches you step over the threshold, Ellie padding close at their heel, her tail a steady, gentle wave. The spare room door is open, revealing a bed made with a quilt that doesn't quite match the curtains, a lamp casting a warm circle on a small nightstand. Nick clears his throat, the sound rough in the quiet. "It ain't much, but it's better than what you…