Page 105 of My Damaged Protector

“Morning,” I whisper back, intentionally avoiding his eyes.

“Sarah, we?—”

“Who's ready for the goodness we have on the menu this morning? FYI, it wasn't me who cooked.” My aunt breezes into the room happily, unknowingly cutting him off. I can't say I'm not grateful for the interruption.

I'm not sure if I want to talk to him right now or anytime between now and when I have to leave. I won't be able to look him in the face and smile knowing that I'm taking his child away without him even knowing.

He doesn't want a child though. I try to console myself with the fact that I'm doing what's best for everyone involved.

My aunt unveils the mouthwatering breakfast consisting of bacon strips, eggs, sausages, pancakes, buttermilk, and fresh toast.

Damn, she wasn't lying when she said goodness. She mentioned she didn't do this, which means it had to be Ian.

He made all this?

I know he can cook, but not this well.

I stand up to help with the serving.

“There's coffee, fresh orange juice, and lemonade. Which do you prefer?”

“Coffee's fine by me.”

“I'll take the juice,” I say.

She walks away to get the drinks, while I serve the food, pretending not to notice Ian trying to get my attention.

Eventually, he gives up, and I hope it'll be this easy when I ask him to leave after breakfast, too.

We soon start to eat, and I become engrossed with the meal, not sure when I'll have the opportunity to get a good home cooked meal like this. My aunt can always visit me in Ohio, but it'll only be for a few days because she has to work.

Don't even get me started on the many times I've tried to get her to quit in the past without succeeding. She's too stubborn when it comes to her independence. Maybe she'll change her mind after having to live months without seeing us.

Halfway through the meal, she speaks, asking how Ian and I met.

Something about the look in her eyes as she asks me the question tells me this isn't just a harmless one. She's trying to stir something up, probably my emotions to change my mind about leaving, so I decide to be the one that answers.

“It was my last day in high school. I was going to a café to celebrate with my friends, but I found out my purse was missing when it was time to pay.”

“Let me guess. He paid?” she asks, looking at him with a proud smile.

Whoa.

Is it me, or has my aunt switched sides since last night?

Why is she acting so differently toward him?

“I did. The guy was getting violent and rude toward her thinking that she was trying to pull a fast one on him. I was…” He trails off, probably because the next part involved him breaking the douchebag’s nose.

“He was furious.” I pick up where he stopped. “He punched the guy in the face, paid for my order, and then gave me some extra cash before he left.”

“Aww. Sounds like he's always been your knight in shining armor,” my aunt coos.

Not aww. The part she hadn't heard was that I didn't see him again for months afterward, and I was in a dangerous situation then, too. He'd saved me, and I'd kissed him. We tried dating, but it never worked. The moment he found out my age, he did everything in his power to sabotage us. It didn't work, and when he saw that I wasn't going to give up, he changed apartments without informing me.

He never really loved me, did he?

“No, he's not. I didn't see him for four months after that,” I say, staring straight at him.

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