Chapter 1
My best friend Lona Benton’s brother had come back from the military.
Word was, he’d been wounded on a mission, a brutal injury that left him unable to have kids.
Lona sighed dramatically, “I’m a DINK, you know–no kids, no plans for them. And now Trist, with this injury, is out of the game too. Looks like my family line ends with us.”
A few days later, I finally met the tough–as–nails brother Lona was always going on about— Tristan Benton.
The moment I laid eyes on him, my heart stopped.
This man was the spitting image of my daughter’s father.
***
“It’s all my dad’s fault for giving us such cursed names! Lona, Tristan–what kind of bad–luck names are those?”
In the smoky haze of the barbecue joint, Lona clutched her beer bottle, tears streaming down her face as she wailed.
“I had this dream, you know? When Trist comes back, I’d introduce you two. Lucy would officially be my niece!” Her voice cracked, slurring with booze.
“But a man who can’t have kids? What’s the point? He’s basically useless. We’re so close, I can’t set you up with him—that’d be like sabotaging you!”
Just then, her phone buzzed to life.
I glanced at the screen.
It was her brother, Tristan.
Lona was already half–passed out, her face planted on the table, oblivious to the ringing.
I froze for a moment, torn about whether to answer. But the call wouldn’t stop. When it rang for the third time, I sighed and gave in, pressing the button.
“Mom says get your ass home,” came a deep, gravelly voice from the other end.
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It was smooth, almost too smooth, and I felt a flush creep up my cheeks.
I tugged at my burning carlobe, trying to sound casual. “Hi, I’m Lona’s friend.
“We’re at the barbecue place. She’s, uh, not exactly in a state to get home on her own. Any chance you could swing by and pick her up?”
After all, Lona could barely stand right now.
I’d had a few drinks myself and didn’t trust my balance enough to drag her home.
It would be a godsend if her family came for her.
Before he could respond, Lona suddenly sat bolt upright.
“Poor Trist!” she slurred, swaying in her seat. “Trist was shipped off to military school so young; he never even had a girlfriend. And now, with this… this injury, who’s gonna want him?”
The line went dead silent.
My own buzz fizzled out under the weight of embarrassment. “She’s really drunk,” I mumbled, trying to smooth things over.
“Address,” he said, his tone clipped, icy.
“8 Elmwood Lane.”
The call ended abruptly.
Lona had always painted Tristan as this larger–than–life figure.
To her, he was a man with a will of iron, her childhood hero.
I’d known her for years, but with Tristan always off on some mission, I’d never met him.
A week ago, Lona dropped the bombshell: Tristan was back, discharged from the military after a serious injury.
I glanced at Lona, slumped again, and decided to drag her outside to wait. He’d probably show up
soon.
In the distance, a sleek black SUV rolled up.
A tall, broad–shouldered man stepped out.
He was dressed in crisp workwear, his frame imposing, muscles evident even in the dim
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streetlight.
The glow behind him cast his face in shadow, leaving only a sharp, commanding silhouette.
Just then, my phone lit up with a video call.
“Is that Lucy?” Lona mumbled, squinting at my screen.
“She’s calling this late? Must be important.
“Go on, answer it. Trist’s here anyway.”
She waved sloppily at the figure approaching.
My stomach twisted with worry about my daughter, so I didn’t bother with pleasantries.
As the man drew closer, I stepped aside to take the call.
Lucy’s bright little face filled the screen.
“Mommy!” she chirped, her smile wide and carefree.
Relief washed over me.
“Why aren’t you in bed, kiddo?”
“I miss you, Mommy!”
My mom’s voice cut in from the background.
“I took her to the countryside today to catch shrimp. She had a blast, and now she’s too wired to sleep. Had to call you. Where are you, anyway? Still out?”
“I’m with Lona, just catching up.”
My mom had taken Lucy back to the countryside for a few days, giving me a rare break.
“Lona’s there?”
Lucy’s face popped back into view, her eyes sparkling. “I wanna talk to my godmother!”
I glanced back at the entrance.
Lona was now slung over the man’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Without a word, he tossed–yes, tossed–her into the SUV.
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Chapter 1
I froze, blinking at the sheer audacity of it.
Talk about a tough guy.

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