Page 68 of My Damaged Protector

Ian was thoughtful, trying to make me smile with his jokes, but there's just too much on my mind.

I walk into the bathroom naked and remain under the shower for ten minutes. I would run a bath and soak myself in it for hours if I didn't think I'd fall asleep.

I'm so tired.

I yawn as I step back into the room and check for some of my clothes that I kept back when I used to stay here.

When I first returned to Glazer Ville, my aunt took me in. And she gave me not only a roof over my head but a home, too.

It took a lot of back and forth before she eventually let me move to my house. I had to literally paint the picture of me bringing a man home and her having to hear us have sex before she gave up.

Of course, I haven’t taken any man to my house since I got it, except Ian, but she doesn't know that, and she doesn't ever need to. I just wanted to have some freedom.

And no, I wasn't tired of her or anything. My aunt is one of the loveliest people you'll ever come across. I just wanted to have my own space.

As if summoned by my thoughts, I hear someone knocking on my door, and I immediately know it's her.

Quickly slipping one of my old nightgowns on, I go to open the door. She's holding a tray with a glass filled with iced tea and a plate with a huge portion of cake. She just never runs out of food.

Smiling, I take the tray from her hand and thank her. I'm not surprised when she enters the room.

“He's sleeping on the couch in the living room,” she says.

“Does he have a pillow and blanket?”

“I got him those.”

“Thanks.” I smile, and she nods.

There's something she wants to say, but she doesn't say it. Instead, she shakes her head and walks away.

“Good night,” she says.

“Good night, Auntie. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweet girl,” she whispers and closes the door behind her.

Sweet girl. That's the name she’s called me for the majority of my life. She doesn't call me that often now. Olivia has taken thename from me, but sometimes, in rare moments like this, she lets it slip, and it takes me right back to my childhood days.

I miss my mom. Now more than ever.

I wonder what she'd say to everything that's happening now if she was still alive. She'd probably not even be in support of me helping my dad.

She hated him from the moment he left.

My dad. Can I even call Neville that?

Sure, he passed out earlier, but I found out he was awake when I got to the hospital. He hasn't even called to check in on me since then.

Do I mean so little to him?

Is remaining alive the only reason he came looking for me?

I tried to believe that maybe he wanted more from me than my bone marrow, but now I'm just not so sure. Especially with how quickly Peter and Lauren’s reactions to me switched after I told them I couldn't help save their dad because of some complication.

Yes, he's their dad, not mine.

Maybe he once was mine, but not anymore.

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