Page 28 of Major Penalty

“Go put your shoes on,” he orders softly, setting both girls down.

The kids scatter, running after Tia, leaving us with a few stragglers.

Ares tells them to stay put while we wait. The tension is so thick it claws at my throat.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I say softly. “I know this looks really weird, but I swear, I didn’t know—”

He takes a step toward me, making me press my lips together.

My breath catches in my throat when he lifts his hands. And before I can even think of moving, his fingers brush against my hair.

Oh my God.

His touch is light as he tucks my hair behind my ear, fingertips dragging along the exposed skin. I stop breathing completely. My heart is hammering so loud I can feel it in my throat. His gaze drags down to his he’s touching me.

“Mandy’s right,” he says, his voice low. I blink up at him confused before realizing what he just said.

Ares Black just called me beautiful.

The park is a short walk from the center, tucked away behind a row of old buildings and shaded by thick oak trees. It’s quiet and peaceful, except for the kids running ahead, shouting, laughing, and racing toward the grass like they’ve just been freed.

I follow after them, gripping the backpack Tia gave me, still trying to process what’s happening because nothing about this makes sense.

The man who feels like an earthquake every time he’s near me is now carrying a duffel bag of food, dressed in black, effortlessly balancing a small boy on his other arm like it’s second nature. Like this is just who he is. Like he’s done this a hundred times before. And maybe he has.

The kids scatter across the park, but not far. They stay within a certain distance, trained to listen. Like they know not to push Ares’ limits.

Ares stops, scans the area, and then drops the duffel bag onto the grass with a heavy thud.

“Here.” His voice is sharp, giving orders like it’s muscle memory. “This is good.”

A handful of kids immediately turn back, waiting. He crouches down to their level. And when he speaks, it’s not his usual detached, quiet tone.

“Viki, Tommy, you two grab the blankets. Adam, take the juice boxes and pass them out.” His deep voice is firm but gentle.

Ares pulls out the blankets, hands them over, and watches as the kids hurry to spread them out over the grass.

I set my own bag down and watch in awe. This man carries himself like a loaded weapon. And he’s now organizing a picnic with a dozen children. And they’re listening, hanging on to his every word, doing exactly what he tells them. No complaints, no arguments.

I take a slow step forward and help unfold one of the blankets.

Ares’ voice pulls me back.

“I’ll handle the food,” he says, already pulling out a few lunchboxes. “Tommy’s allergic to nuts. Viki won’t eat anything with pickles in it.” I blink as he hands me two of the boxes. “Put these on that blanket.” He nods toward the shaded one. “That’s their spot.”

“Okay.” I nod, hesitant. Because I don’t know how to react to the fact that he knows the eating preferences of a dozen kids.

I take the lunchboxes from his hands, and my fingers brush against his.

I freeze. He doesn’t. He doesn’t react at all. He just keeps working, like what he did at my office never happened. Like he didn’t have me pinned against the examination table the last time I saw him.

I exhale slowly, shake it off, and move to set the lunchboxes down.

Ares keeps working, giving instructions, handing out juice boxes and making sure everyone has a spot.

The kids listen intently, gravitating toward him. Just like me. Because I never expected him to be like this. I never expected to see him so completely out of place, yet looking like he’s home.

He’s not warm, open, or soft. But these kids look at him like he’s a superhero. And I don’t know how to process that.

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