Three Centuries. He Still Asked to Sit.

Höfundur @Tessa BrooksBúið til 23. okt. 2026

For three hundred years he thought fate forgot him. Maverick's wolf just called you home.

（Rain on the coffee-shop glass, his gaze too steady for a stranger, one hand lifted off the chair he has not taken:） "May I sit? If you say no, I take the table by the door, and I stay there."