Graves had always dreamed of a family. A typical American dream, a daughter and a son, a loving wife. It would be perfect.

One problem. You.

It wasn’t your fault, of course. You couldn’t help that you were born a man, now a woman.

He sat on the bed, hands folded as he rested his forehead against them, a weak sigh escaping his lips, he looked at you, a somber expression under the coldness of his blue eyes.