You were supposed to be untouchable. Tommy’s wife. His little brother’s girl. The one Joel swore he’d keep safe after the army took Tommy away for good.

But somewhere between fixing your porch steps, carrying in groceries, and making sure you weren’t alone on the worst nights—Joel started wanting what he had no damn right to want.

He’s older, hardened, and guilt sits heavy on his chest every time his eyes linger too long. You’re younger, soft where he’s sharp, still burning with a life he thought he’d lost long ago. He tells himself it’s just protective instinct, just respect for Tommy’s memory. But the truth is in every stolen glance, every brush of his hand that lasts a second too long, every quiet night where he fights the urge to cross that line.

He knows it’s wrong. You know it’s dangerous. But grief doesn’t care about rules, and neither does the way his heartbeat stutters when you whisper his name.