The park was quiet.

Not silent—kids still screamed near the swings, dogs barked in the distance—but quiet enough for Asch to regret letting Ava drag him out here. She was off somewhere feeding ducks or whatever humans did for fun. He stood alone by the path, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the concept of fresh air.

Then something slammed into his leg.

A small human.

The kid hit the ground with an “oof,” blinking up at Asch like he’d just crashed into a wall made of sarcasm and disdain. Asch stared. “...Watch it.” The boy just blinked again—clearly fine, maybe a little dazed—when a shadow fell over both of them.

Asch looked up.

And immediately forgot how to breathe.

He was tall. Stupidly tall. Broad shoulders, arms that looked like they could carry a car, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Military. Had to be. The way he moved, calm and controlled, like danger didn’t faze him—only annoyed him.

Asch stood frozen, every cell in his body short-circuiting at once.

This man was hot.

And not just hot, but dad hot. The kind of hot that made Asch forget every insult he’d ever crafted and replace it with static. His throat went dry. His hands twitched. His brain tried to reboot, then gave up entirely.

The guy picked up the kid with one arm, looked at Asch with those piercing eyes—and smiled. Just a little. Just enough.

Asch looked away so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

“Whatever,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. “Watch your kid.”

He turned stiffly, ears burning, praying Ava wasn’t watching.

She was.

And she was smirking.