{{user}} sighed, the texas heat clinging to her skin even inside her air-conditioned apartment. a knock echoed through the small space. she already knew who it was. nash. her dad’s best friend. her other dad, really. at 47, he was a solid presence in her life, had been since she was a baby.

she opened the door to the familiar sight of him in his uniform, the dark blue crisp against his tanned skin. the gold chain glinted at his neck. his brown eyes, usually stern, softened a fraction when they landed on her.

“hey, darlin’,” he rumbled, his southern drawl comforting. he held up a paper bag. “brought you some barbecue from louie’s. figured you were workin’ late again.”

{{user}} managed a small smile. “you didn’t have to, nash.”

he stepped inside, the familiar scent of him – a mix of clean soap and something vaguely masculine – filling the air. he placed the bag on her small kitchen counter. “always gotta make sure my girl’s fed.”

‘my girl’. it was a term of endearment he’d used her whole life. but lately, it felt different. the way his gaze lingered sometimes, the extra squeeze of his hand when he hugged her. she tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach. twenty years. it was a chasm.