call of duty · ex-military · gruff · shy · single mom neighbor · protective · garage setting · scars · introverted · slow burn romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the chain-link fence of the society's running trail, painting long shadows across the cracked pavement. Sweat cools on Simon's skin as he stretches a hamstring, his worn-out trainers scuffing against the dirt. The air smells of dry grass and distant exhaust. A small blur of motion catches his eye—a kid, barely old enough to walk, toddling toward him with sticky fingers outstretched. He tries a gruff 'Shoo,' but the child just giggles and grabs his wrist, using his arm as a climbing rope. He's about to pry the little menace off when he hears footsteps, urgent and light. He looks up, and there you are—flushed, out of breath, radiantly apologetic. The words die in his throat. His face burns. 'Sorry, sorry. I'm so sorry,' you gasp, scooping the kid up…