Page 32 of My Damaged Protector

Although I highly doubt the possibility of that happening, it's worth a shot.

After I end the call, I pick up my laptop and ensure all I've written so far is saved. Then I put down some more sentences to outline the next chapters I have to write. Everything is in the plotting process right now.

I'm not even writing the way I normally would. There's no synopsis yet, no proper outline. Just writing as it comes to me. There are only two ways this can go: good or bad.

I can always go back to proper structuring if this fails.

I turn off my laptop, run into my room, and take a shower. I throw on a simple dress and pair it with a cardigan, and then I'm off to my aunt's house.

Her house is not so far from mine, so I don't bother taking my car. Instead, I walk to her place, allowing myself to enjoy the fresh air as the sun sets for yet another day.

Briefly, my mind wanders to Ian, and I wonder if he's still in town. I quickly push the thought aside and focus on the moment. If Ian needs me, he'll call me.

When I get to her house, there's a new car parked outside, and while I don't recognize it, I refrain from bothering my head over it. If Sheila had a guest she would have let me know ahead of time.

I burst into the house without knocking, because the place is pretty much like home to me. No one is in the living room, but I can hear movement from the guest bathroom.

Why is she not using her room’s bathroom?

“I'm here,” I announce my presence, plopping down onto the couch unceremoniously. The old cushion lets out a sound at my size, and I shake my head at it.

If only she'd just let me change it for her. But she's too stubborn about taking money, insisting all my extra funds should go into a trust for Olivia.

“I didn't hear your car,” my aunt says, and I turn to see her coming out of the kitchen.

Who's in the bathroom, then?

She comes further into the room, her arms coming around me in a hug, her whole body smelling of tomato sauce.

“You smell like food,” I say into her shoulder, and she laughs. Pulling back, her hand pats my hair, a fond smile on her face as she looks at me.

“How are you?”

Something about the way she says those words suddenly has me perking up.

“I'm okay. Are you?”

“Yes. Come serve the food with me.”

I let her drag me into the kitchen, my eyes cutting to the bathroom door. It's taking all my strength to not ask if she has a guest, but I don't want to be nosy.

As we enter the kitchen, I notice there are three plates on the table.

She definitely has someone over!

When we're inside the kitchen, she keeps me busy with chats about the town. She asks about Ian, and I quickly brush it off. I still can't believe she recognized him at the hospital. It's been so long since I told her about him and showed her his picture.

“So, what new story are you working on?” she asks as we step out of the kitchen, both our hands occupied with bowls.

“Oh, um, it's a story about…” The rest of my words die in my throat when I lay my eyes on the guest she has over.

Stomping to the table, I slam the bowl down in front of me. If my action upsets him, he doesn't act on it.

“Hello, Sarah,” he greets me so calmly you'd think he wasn't a deadbeat father.

“What is he doing here?” I face my aunt in anger.

He looks between us skeptically.

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