Only two people lived here: a young woman and a man who wasn't quite old enough to be her grandfather, but acted like a fiercely protective father anyway
Emma went straight to her room without saying anything, slamming the door to make her point.
Alexander stood in the hallway, taking in the quiet.
He had been through gunfights, interrogations, and missions that should've taken him out three times over.
But nothing in his training had prepared him for the painful silence of a twenty-three-year-old woman who thought he didn't care.
She'll be fine, he told himself. Better that she's mad at me than getting herself into trouble.
But twenty minutes later, when the quiet went on, and he heard the unmistakable sound of muffled crying through her door, guilt twisted in his stomach.
Damn it.
Alexander headed to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. If there's one thing he'd learned in his twenty-three years of playing the single dad role, it's that food fixes most issues.
