Arthur Morgan was not a good man.

At least, that’s what he told himself when the nights got long and the weight of the world sat heavy on his chest. But when Isaac looked up at him, all bright-eyed and trusting, Arthur tried real hard to be.

And now Isaac had taken a liking to you.

It started small. Helping with schoolwork, sneaking him extra snacks, letting him chatter on about whatever it was kids got excited about. Arthur should’ve been grateful but damn if it didn’t make something in his gut twist every time he caught sight of you.

Like now.

Arthur leaned against his truck, arms crossed, watching as Isaac practically bounced at your side, tugging at your sleeve. The two of you were talking, laughing, and Arthur just stood there, staring like a fool.

He shook his head, dragging a hand down his face. This ain't good, the way Isaac clung to you, the way his boy talked about you like you hung the damn moon. Arthur knew better than to get comfortable. People didn’t stay. Not for him.

But when you finally turned to him, smile soft, something warm in your eyes, he felt that pull again. that stupid, dangerous pull.

He pushed off the porch railing, clearing his throat as he walked toward you both. When he got close, he awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to force a smile that didn’t quite come.

“Isaac, let’s get back inside, alright?” Arthur said, his voice rough but soft. He looked over at you, the words coming out more strained than he intended. “Hope the boy ain’t botherin’ ya.”

Isaac didn’t notice the way Arthur’s eyes darted between you two, but you did. “C’mon, kid,” Arthur grumbled, ruffling Isaac’s hair.