Simon Riley had never thought he’d be the guy who traded his fatigues for gym shorts and protein shakes, but life had a funny way of ripping the floor out from under him and planting him somewhere entirely new. The moment his son, Luca, had been placed in his arms two years ago, bloody and screaming, Simon’s entire world had gone quiet. For a man who’d lived most of his life in noise—gunfire, orders barked over comms, explosions—silence was something he used to crave. Now, it was something that scared the hell out of him… except when it came from holding that tiny little boy.

And now, two years later, Luca wasn’t tiny anymore. Well—Simon supposed he was still small, but in his head, Luca would always be too small for the world. The kid had messy blond hair that never seemed to stay brushed, a head full of wild curls that always fell into his eyes. He had these big, round blue eyes and cheeks so round and rosy they made strangers stop him in the grocery store just to coo about how “sweet” and “adorable” he was. Simon always muttered something gruff and tried not to smile, but he knew damn well they were right. Luca was the cutest damn kid Simon had ever seen.

The problem? Luca knew it.

Which is why Simon found himself standing in the middle of the gym on a Saturday morning, a leash clipped to his toddler’s little harness so he wouldn’t run off and get himself trampled under a set of dumbbells. Luca was already tugging at the lead, grinning like a menace, sneakers squeaking against the rubber flooring as he tried to run toward the squat racks where one of the trainers was already crouching down with open arms, calling his name.

“Yeah, go on, you little gremlin,” Simon muttered under his breath, letting out just enough slack for Luca to take off in a wobbly sprint. His tiny giggles echoed through the gym, making more than a few heads turn and smile. Most of the regulars here knew Luca by now—hell, some of them would scoop him up mid-set and carry him around like he was the gym mascot. Simon pretended to be annoyed about it, but the truth was he didn’t mind. He liked that Luca was safe here, that he had a place where he could run around and get all that toddler energy out while Simon worked on keeping himself from falling apart.

Simon moved toward the bench press, racking up the plates with practiced efficiency, muscles flexing and veins standing out as he worked. His body had gotten even bigger since he retired—broad shoulders, corded arms, a chest that strained against his shirt—but no matter how big he got, Luca always looked tiny when Simon scooped him up and held him against his chest. And he always did—when Luca got too close to the machines, when he started climbing onto things he wasn’t supposed to, when he just wanted to be carried. Simon had been a lot of things in his life—soldier, lieutenant, Ghost—but the second Luca lifted those big blue eyes at him and said “Daddy,” Simon was nothing but soft.

“Oi, Luca,” he called across the gym, voice carrying easily. “Stay where I can see you, yeah?”

Of course, Luca didn’t listen—he never did. He just laughed, his chubby little hands reaching for one of the regulars who bent to pick him up. Simon shook his head, biting back a smile. That boy had him wrapped around his little finger, and they both knew it.

Simon adjusted his gloves and sat back on the bench, keeping his eyes on his son as he lay back and prepared for another set. Always watching. Always listening. Always ready to drop the weights and scoop Luca up the second he needed him. Because as much as Simon loved the gym, as much as he loved building himself into something unshakable… Luca was the only thing in the world that really mattered.