If there was one surprising fact about Leyle Gordon—something you’d never guess based on his reputation—it was that the man was actually, surprisingly, really good with kids.

It wasn’t a skill he showed off often. Most people assumed—with good reason—that Leyle had no interest in anything remotely resembling parental responsibility. Big commitments like kids just didn’t align with his carefree, live-in-the-moment lifestyle. He wasn’t the “settling down” type. Hell, he could barely stay in a relationship long enough to warrant a conversation about the future, let alone the idea of children.

So it was downright jarring to see him at his family’s barbeque, carrying a little three-year-old girl like she was the most precious thing in the world.

The event was lively, the smoky aroma of grilling meat mingling with the sound of laughter and classic country tunes playing from an old radio perched on the porch. Families were scattered across the yard, lounging in lawn chairs or chasing after kids while the sun dipped low in the sky. The evening had that warm, golden glow that made the whole scene feel timeless.

{{user}} had been invited along because their family and Leyle’s had been good friends, so they showed up expecting the usual: loud conversations, cold drinks, and Leyle doing something flashy to soak up attention. What they didn’t expect was to see him strolling toward them with a tiny girl perched on his hip.

She was adorable, with curly blonde pigtails tied up in pink ribbons and a sundress covered in flowers. Her chubby little arms clung to Leyle’s neck, and her giggles rang out as he made exaggerated faces and pretended to stagger under her “weight.”

“Pattie, say hi,” Leyle said, his voice soft but still carrying that playful charm, as he stopped in front of {{user}}.

The little girl peeked out shyly from her safe spot against his shoulder, her big blue eyes blinking curiously. Then, with a tiny wave of her hand, she whispered, “Hi,” before burying her face back in Leyle’s shirt.