The sun beats down on my back. My chest heaves. My limbs burn. Sweat drips from every pore, plastering my white T-shirt to my torso. I bend forward, one hand braced on my knee, the other at my throat with two fingers searching for my pulse. A quick glance at my stopwatch confirms that I deserve a break.

As much as I'd like to, I can’t keep running forever.

I collapse against the trunk of a nearby tree and let myself slide down to the ground. My labored breaths exit my lungs in powerful bursts.

My phone rings in the pocket of my overlong black sweats. I ignore it. It’s probably Leo again. Trying to be the voice of reason, as usual.

I get it. I fucked up.

I made a big stinkin’ scene at Charlie's place of business. He has every right to be pissed at me. The man went out on a limb and gave me a job. Not just a job, but hope. Something to cling to in a world where I feel like I'm drifting from nothing to nothing.

And how did I thank him? By slamming his nuthead worker in the face. At a client’s house.

I drag my palms over my eyes. Goddammit. I'm a fucking mess.

I was wrong to start a fight. I don’t need Leo or anybody else chirping in my ear to convince me of that. But quitting was the right decision.

Sometimes a man has to quit his job so that his idiot coworkers don't end up pinned down beneath the wheels of a concrete mixer truck.

Anyway, I’m so fucking hollow on the inside that I don’t even know how to start filling myself up with meaning. I don’t know if that’s possible for me.

That’s why I’ve decided it’s time to leave town. I don’t belong here. This jog has helped me clear my head, it’s opened my eyes. My friends are happy. They’ve found peace. They’re building their lives. And me? I’m a shitstorm on the inside. I don’t want to mess up the lives they’ve worked so hard to build. That’s why I need to leave.

I lean my head back against the tree trunk and try to remember the last time I felt stable. The last time I didn't feel utterly out of control. Inevitably, my mind goes back to that first night with Sophia.

I’m 29 years old. I’ve lived over ten thousand days and nights but the few hours I shared with her in Vegas have forever marked me. I want more hours like that, more days with her. But I’m not a man who deserves her. I have to accept that.

A soccer ball comes out of nowhere, bounding across the grass and slowing as it passes my feet. I arch my neck in the direction it came from. A tiny boy comes running after it, giggling all the way. "Hi," he says brightly, not a care in the world.

I look around for any sign of the adult who should be with him. "Hey buddy.”

He scoops up the ball and approaches with it tucked under his arm. “You like soccer?" he asks, eyes shining with innocence and excitement.

No sign of his parents. I check and double-check. “Uh, I do like soccer.” A sense of protectiveness mounts in me and I rise to my feet, careful not to put too much strain on my back. Dammit—can I move a muscle without my entire body shrieking with pain?

He drops the ball to the grass. “So, let's play." He says it like it’s the simplest and most obvious thing. His little foot swings vigorously and the shot nearly lands him on his ass but the ball barely budges.

I try not to laugh.

He’s trying and that’s what counts. He’s all grit and determination as he gives it another shot. There’s no indication in his eyes that he understands how dangerous talking to a stranger can be.

"Where are your parents, buddy?" Now, I’m starting to feel anger—not at the child, of course but at his parents. How could they be so careless? If I were a predator, this interaction could be going much differently.

"My mommy’s at home. Her name is Grace. She does the YouTube. My daddy’s name is Daniel. He used to take bad guys to court but now he don't do that no more."

Overshare much?

The corners of my mouth curl. “So, who are you with? Who took you to the park?”

Before he can answer, a female voice rips through the air, panic lacing her tone. "Sebastian!" My gut tightens at the sound. My reaction is visceral.

Is it…?

Craning my neck around the tree, I see Sophia racing across the park—her head snapping left to right, her expression frantic—as she propels that monster stroller across the bumpy lawn.

She glances back to check on the group of toddlers stumbling after her. The children each wear identical bright yellow safety vests with Little Giggles Childcare Center printed across the front. I think one of them is eating a fistful of grass. A lethargic teenager follows after them so interested in her cellphone that she nearly trips over one of the kids ambling ahead of her.

"SEBASTIAN!" Sophia calls out again.

I look down at the little boy. "I'm guessing your name is Sebastian?"

He grins up at me, all tiny teeth and fat cheeks. He nods.

Stepping out into view, I wave an arm in the air above my head.

From across the grassy expanse, Sophia spots us. I see her body shudder with relief.

"Sebastian Trotten! Sebastian! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Just the sight of her and my heart somersaults in my chest. She’s sort of a mess. Her hair bun is collapsing at the top of her head. Her T-shirt hangs a little crooked on her shoulders and the hem is stained with baby food. But damn, those thighs look nice in those dark gray leggings.

Breathless by the time she gets to us, she abandons the stroller and drops to her knees in the grass. She has an adorable little girl strapped to her chest. Her small hand braces Sebastian's shoulder. "Don't you..." Pant, pant. "...ever..." More panting. "...do that again..." She throws her arms around the child and squeezes him, her eyes pressing shut against the tears welling there. 

"I just came to get the ball," the boy protests quietly.

Sophia isn't having it. "You don't wander off without permission. Do you know what could have happened to you?" She slides a vest over his head and he pushes his little arms through the armholes. Now, he’s decked out in bright yellow like the rest of the kids.

I glance around at the brood of tiny humans. The grass-eater in the middle of the crowd is now trying to spit dandelion fluff out of her mouth. Another girl with her finger shoved so far up her nose, I wouldn’t be surprised if she broke it. A pair of little boys giggle and chase after each other.

My attention goes back to Sophia. “You look like you could use some extra help with these kiddos."

She rises to her feet and stumbles a few steps back, clutching protectively at the little girl strapped to her chest. "I have help." She says it firmly, every part of her projecting defiance and self-sufficiency as she points over her shoulder at the distracted teenager.

I chuckle. “How's that working out for you?" 

She rolls her eyes. "It's working out just fine.”

Out of nowhere, one of the little monkeys lunges at her in his attempt to escape the friend who’s chasing him. Overwhelmed by excitement, the boy hooks his little fingers on the stretchy fabric of Sophia’s yoga pants and he lifts both feet off the ground. The leggings tear away from her body.

She just mooned the entire park.

Now, I’m not complaining, obviously. Because that ass is one of my favorite things ever created but still, I’m sure that mooning the group of seniors doing Tai chi over by the pond was not on her list of things to do when she rolled out of bed this morning.

She barely even seems to register what just happened, like it’s a regular, everyday occurrence. "Gaston!" she says patiently, "We don't pull each other's pants down. Please." She hikes the stretchy fabric back up over her curves then turns her attention back to me. 

“It’s working out just fine, huh?” I hike a brow.

She grunts with exasperation. “Why are you out here questioning me? Don’t you have to be at work?”

I grin sheepishly. "Quit..."

Her eyebrow jerks up. "You quit? You quit Charlie's worksite?" Humor and incredulity dance in her pretty irises.

"I quit..." A big shoulder of mine pops up to my ear and then falls back down.

“Why did you quit?” she laughs. “What? Is Charlie a dictator boss?”

I shake my head. “Nah, Charlie’s been good…” One corner of my mouth lifts into a smile. “…I sort of…” I rake my fingers through my hair. “…I sort of punched one of my coworkers in the face so…”

Her mouth drops open. She covers it with her fingers. “Oh my god. You did what?” Levity twinkles in her eyes. “Which coworker? It was Melvin. Wasn’t it?”

“Which one’s Melvin?”

Now, she can’t fight her smile. “I’m sure it was Melvin. God, that guy is such a jerk.”

My heart soars beyond the confines of my chest when she smiles like that. “Whoever it was, he really deserved it.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“So, I quit.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “I have that luxury. I’m as free as a bird. Nothing to tie me down.” I say the words with humor but my heart sags at the knowledge that I don’t really belong anywhere. I come and go as I please but when I leave, there’s no one behind to miss me.

Instead of laughing at my lame joke, something passes over Sophia’s expression, some unpleasant emotion I can’t label. 

“Uh…you okay?” I reach out to touch her but she shrinks back.

She gestures to the kids. “We've got to get back to the daycare. It’s almost lunchtime.” Right before walking off, her eyes do a sneaky, out-of-the-corner sweep down my sweaty body.

She may try to act unaffected by me, but I have an inkling that I’m not the only one thirsty for another taste.

I bite back a grin. She catches it anyway.

She rolls her eyes. "Goodbye, Archie."

Making another attempt to hustle the rowdy kids into order, she turns toward the park's exit.

I stride in step with her. "Let me walk you guys back." I glance down at the stroller.

She moves in front of the thing like a shield, panic on her face. "That's not necessary. Ramona and I can get them back just fine.”

My hands rise to her hips and I hold her in place. “Sophia, let me just put this out there,” I say. “I get it. I’m a stranger and it’s your job to take care of these kids but I’m not going to hurt them. I’m a soldier. I don’t even know them but I’d jump in front of a speeding train to save any one of them. That’s the way I’m programmed. So, you can stop trying to guard them from me.”

The baby girl on Sophia’s chest reaches up and grabs at my stubbly chin. She’s so beautiful. The most beautiful little thing I’ve seen. I don’t know why my heart goes at tight as it does at the sight of her snotty face. Grinning, I reach down and pinch her chin right back. We share a smile.

Looking alarmed, Sophia steps away and my hand falls to my side. Her face flushes. The prettiest shade of pink. She stutters. “I-I know you wouldn’t hurt them, Archie. I just, I just don’t need your help. Okay?”

I'd forgotten how stubborn she is. I growl deep in my chest. "Let me rephrase that—I'm walking you back to the daycare, Sophia. No arguing with me."

"Yay!" Grass Eater yells as her little fingers find my right hand and she latches on. Nose Picker grabs hold of my left hand.

I don't wait for Sophia's smart-ass protests or her searing death glare. I take off toward the road with the two little rugrats in tow.

Her harrumph floats on the air but she follows after me anyway. I try my best to walk confidently, without limping. But my leg hurts like hell after that run. It’s slowing me down. Self-consciousness burns up my chest. At the edge of the park, we stop and get all the kids buckled into the stroller. Sophia and Ramona walk ahead of me, leading the way back.

We don't have to worry about making awkward small talk as we go. The kids take care of carrying the conversation. I can’t understand eighty percent of what they’re saying but it’s adorable.

As we’re crossing the highway on-ramp right by the gas station, a sleek black luxury car comes speeding toward us. My eyes hone in on the massive puddle just a few feet away. My instincts snap into gear. With a gentle shoulder check, I push Sophia out of the way and fold my body over the stroller like a human barrier. When the vehicle bops into the pothole, dirty water sprays all around but I bear the brunt of it.

Wet to the bone, I puff up my chest and turn to Sophia. I grin heroically. She squints her eyes at me and her mouth falls open in laughter.

“Uh, that was a bit extra,” Ramona says in that petulant teenager way.

I glare at her. “You’re welcome.” I wring cold water from the back of my shirt.

“You acted like a speeding train was coming at us,” she argues. “It was just a puddle. We’ve gotten drenched in this exact spot a zillion times.”

Sophia glares at her, too. Then her eyes flash to mine. “Thank you, Archie. I appreciate not getting soaked with dirty water today.”