I watch him, how he looks rough. His black hair unruly, in every direction as anyone could tell he hasn't bothered to brush it for days. His clothing is different, no longer just a worn t-shirt or sweats, but rather a pair of combat boots and a flannel. He looks rough. My eyes follow his every movement, watching as he walks up to the door. My parents could smell the rogue scent on him the moment he parked his car on our driveway. Unlike many who would see Flynn and immediately want to harm him, a smile spreads across my face, my fingers gripping the handle of my luggage as my father is outside loading his car.
I watch as Flynn walks to my father outside, offering him a welcome smile as I watch my father not respond how I would expect him to. With the last luggage for the airport in my pre
