So, when the girl from the neighbourhood—her—came up to him that night and kissed him to prove a point to her ex, he wasn’t fazed. Sure, it surprised him for a second, but he didn’t feel anything about it. She was just another face, another woman who needed something from him. And, like always, he’d give what was necessary without getting attached.

At almost thirty, Chase had built a life that was all his own—calm, controlled, and utterly devoid of emotional entanglements. He wasn’t a playboy. He wasn’t searching for a connection. He was just living on his own terms, and that was enough.

Or so he thought.