The man calling himself Aaron did know what the stranger meant. He’d felt that way about his little brother before the army, before the streets of Chicago had stolen him from those that had loved him. But you can’t keep the streets on a leash, not always. “I understand. Believe me,” he said, thoughts of his brother adding a level of sincerity to his voice that he knew was unmistakable.

“Good. Now, let me help Mrs. Thomas and young Chloe, and you can finish today’s run. Have a good one—and be safe,” Zack said, clapped Aaron on the shoulder, and bent down to pick up Chloe’s scooter as her mother lifted her from the grass.

“Thanks, Zack,” Sherry said, moving off the grass to her driveway. “How are Steph and the kids?”

“They’re good. Unfortunately for me, they left me alone and went to Steph’s sister’s place down in Richmond. It’s my fault, though,” Zack said, and laughed as he followed Sherry up the driveway. “I told her I had some work to do this weekend, and she told me she was leaving me . . . to visit her sister.”

“Ha! That woman is never leaving you, nor you her. While we all have families here, Zack, you have a very happy one, and everyone knows it. I might be a little jealous, in fact.”

While she wasn’t flirting with him exactly, it wasn’t totally innocent. Sherry was an extremely fit brunette with blue eyes who loved her Peloton bike, and it showed. At five feet eleven inches, Zack was a trim, fit man who used the gym in his basement on a regular basis, ate well, and ran when he could. The dad bod was for those with excuses, of which he had none. His brown hair was worn longer on the top, combed up slightly, and short on the sides. His eyes were a deep, dark blue, completing the profile of a handsome man who looked like a daytime soap opera star. He was aware of the impact he had on women, but he was deeply in love with his wife and his kids, and while he appreciated the comment, it had no real impact on him.

“Chad might be too, if you keep talking like that,” Zack said, and put the scooter down. “I’m glad you’re okay, Chloe,” he said to the five-year-old little girl and ruffled her black hair. “I’m sure you’ll be stopping and looking both ways from now on, won’t you?”

The girl only smiled up at him. Zack had a way with almost all children, which endeared him to their mothers—a fact of which he was also acutely aware.

“Oh. She’ll be all right. Kids usually are.”

“I dropped the mail back there. I’ll grab it and put it in your mailbox.”

“Sounds good. Thanks again. And I’ll definitely see you around.”