Page 20 of Her Redeemed Protector

I confirm their suspicions with a nod, the repetition of that diagnosis from years ago settling like a stone in my stomach.

“Yes, I’ve known since the accident at nineteen.” Saying it aloud bridges the years. “The symptoms didn’t surface immediately, but the palpitations… they came, eventually.”

That diagnosis had been a distant concern, something I could almost dismiss, but now it solidifies into reality. Perhaps this lurking fear compelled me to cling to Huxley, to implore him to stay by my side, even as I was wheeled away from his comforting presence.

Many times, I wished I could have taken my mother’s place in that fateful accident in Lakefall Valley. Yet today, contrary to the stoic resignation I thought I had mastered, I find myself dreading my own mortality. I feel like old sand crumbling, released from a long-sealed bottle. The cascade of emotions triggered by today’s incident is overwhelming. As I begged Huxley not to leave, it was clear I was not just scared for myself but terrified of leaving him and everything else I cherish behind.

“Your heart rate plummeted to thirty-five beats per minute today,” the doctor cautions. “This accident may have exacerbated your condition. You have to be careful. Otherwise, you’re at risk for cardiac arrest.”

The words weigh heavily, yet my mind races forward to the prospect of seeing Hux again. The hope that he’s waiting just outside is the bind I’m clinging to.

After what feels like an eternity of nods and half-heard advice, the doctor exits. A nurse comes to me with a glass of water in her hand.

“I think I’m ready to get up,” I assert, an attempted show of resilience as I lever myself from the bed. The thin hospital gown shifts awkwardly with my movement, revealing more of my skin than I’d like.

The nurse’s warning comes too late. I’m already reaching for my pants, my eyes catching on the tear that terrifies me as I remember what it exposed. My cheeks burn as I recall the lacy underwear I put on after the shower at the farm. Thank frigging heaven, it wasn’t those museum-grade panties I typically wear when I’m out in the fields.

Hux’s jacket wasn’t just an act of chivalry. It was a shield to preserve my dignity.

While clutching his jacket a little closer, I’m filled with anoverwhelming sense of respect for this man who has shown nothing but honor in such a brief span.

The nurse fixes me with a look that’s equal parts concern and skepticism. “Legally, we can’t detain you, but perhaps the persuasive powers of your boyfriend might sway you to reconsider.”

Boyfriend?

As if hypnotized, I settle my body back onto the bed, easing into the pillow.

Had Hux claimed that title to stay by my side? The idea doesn’t unsettle me. In fact, there’s a comforting solidity in not facing this ordeal alone. Flashes of the impact of my truck hitting the tree jolt through me. But then, there was Hux’s grip, a safety I hadn’t realized I was craving until his arms surrounded me. It’s bewildering how a stranger can suddenly become a sanctuary.

As if summoned, I glimpse him through the slightly ajar door. Then he knocks.

I shuffle under the covers in a snap, perhaps unnecessarily pulling the sheets up to my neck, conscious that he might catch a glimpse of my hardened nipples behind the thin fabric of the gown. It’s not like I don’t want him to see them. I mean, I don’t want to flaunt them, but deep down, I wouldn’t mind if he saw. God, what the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I cover up because I just want to prove that I still know how to be decent.

“Come in,” I say.

He appears, so uplifting that it feels like his heart arrives before his physical form. His commanding frame doesn’t just fill the doorway. It fills my attention span, dispelling whatever troubles are occupying my thoughts.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” His voice is soft, grounding.

I feel like a child lost in a vast field, suddenly found. “I’m managing,” I remark, glancing at the diamond-patterned sheet wrapped over me and checking the state of my nipples.

“You seem a bit more like yourself,” he notes.

“What’s ‘myself’ look like?” I ask, a half-smile playing at the corner of my lips.

He chuckles, perhaps realizing he doesn’t know me long enough to say that. “Brighter,” he answers, nonetheless.

His eyes might be the brightest things here, but I take his word for it. “Brighter sounds good.”

He shifts, leaning a little closer. “Need me to call anyone for you?”

I’m tempted to stay in this peaceful bubble he creates, but then reality intrudes like a bucket of icy water—my father’s appointment with Dr. Palmer. “Hux, could you drive me home, please?”

“No, Savannah. It’s better that you stay here for now.” His refusal is firm.

“But I really need to get going,” I insist, swinging myself off the bed, ignoring the hospital gown that tangles around me. And the damn skirt rides up, exposing my legs all the way to my hips. I’m shaken with embarrassment. My feet falter, and I wobble precariously with nothing to hold on to.

He offers his hand. “Careful there.” He’s as calm as a still lake in Lakefall Valley. There’s no leering, no hint of amusement in his eyes. Just genuine concern. “You need rest, not stress,” he says, angling his body as if to shepherd me back to bed.

---