Page 28 of Her Redeemed Protector

The phrase ‘asking me’ sends my imagination racing. Perhaps too far. Feeling a bit foolish, I query, “Asking me what?”

“To grab me something to eat. But I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Is she kidding?

“Bother? Please. I’d probably fetch you a dragon if you asked right now!” I give her a wink.

She laughs, the sound tinged with a note of admiration. Maybe I’m revealing more than I intended. We’ve only knowneach other for a few hours, yet here I am, already hinting at my truth: I’d do just about anything for her.

“Your dad mentioned you grew up on a ranch and have a passion for horses.”

She pauses, surprise in her eyes. “He told you that? He must really trust you. It’s a touchy topic for us.” There’s a hint of sadness in her voice, so I let the subject go, sensing it’s best to tread lightly.

Savannah takes a sip of water, then, quite unexpectedly, she reaches out, and our hands touch. “Look, I’m sorry for the nonsense I spouted after the accident. And for… well, clinging to you as if you belonged to me. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

I swallow, not out of discomfort, but because in that moment, it felt exactly as she described, and I didn’t mind one bit that she thought I belonged to her. “I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I? Why would that make me uncomfortable?” I joke.

Her cheeks tint pink at my words.

“It’s really okay, Savannah,” I reassure her with a smile.

“My mother died in a car accident, and I was the passenger,” she confesses. “When you held me at the bottom of that slope, I felt like—” She holds a breath, then exhales. “As if I was back in that wreckage. Trapped, desperate to talk to her and get her out.”

Instinctively, my fingers find hers, clasping mildly. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s natural to feel frightened in a moment that mirrors past trauma.”

She nods, a flicker of unresolved pain passing through her eyes. “I’ve made peace with her death, but there’s always that lingering thought—could I have done something more?”

I lower my gaze, and she catches my attempt to retreat into myself. She asks, “Have you lost someone?”

The question tightens my chest. “Yes, but… I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay.” The words come out stiffer than I intended.

Understanding colors her features. “Death is written in everyone’s book. I’ve come to terms with my mother not being here anymore. But accepting that fact is one thing, and accepting what comes next is a whole other story.”

Her words trigger a rush of thoughts and reasons. Valentina is gone—I don’t deny it. Yet, every attempt to let her fade into the backdrop of my past proves futile. She was too perfect, too vital to slip away.

Savannah continues. “For me, what comes next is an angry wish. I was furious about everything because she wasn’t there. I wish for all the things that couldn’t happen. That wish burned, Hux. And it still burns. Especially when life feels like it’s conspiring against me.” Her voice quivers slightly, perhaps revealing that the argument with her father earlier hadn’t been fully resolved.

But something else strikes me.

An angry wish.

Grief is familiar terrain, with its well-documented stages, and anger is a notorious landmark. It’s so saturated with negativity, yet you’re not human without it. It’s layered with complexity, more so than mere sadness. I have moved past such anger. The CIA, the cartel—those bastards have been exorcised from my thoughts.

But this notion of an angry wish?

It resonates, molding the formless heat that has simmered inside me, unnamed but intensely present.

Perhaps what lingers isn’t the regret of Valentina’s untimely departure. Not even the horror of the circumstances surrounding it. I just wish she and I were here, raising a family, experiencing all the cliché of happily ever after. Just awish, a seemingly innocuous desire, yet it stirs a profound rage within me.

I want to respond to Savannah, but the words don’t come. Instead, I find myself fixated on her hands, how calming it would be to feel them steady me. Forever? Is that what I’m really considering?

“Hux? Hey, don’t let me bring you down. This place is glum enough. We don’t need your sorrow adding to it.”

I force a chuckle, brushing the moment away. “Nah. All good.” With a brief inhale, I change the subject. “By the way, there was a man at your father’s house earlier. He didn’t seem too friendly.”

Her face tightens. “Early thirties, blonde, about six-foot?”

“That’s the one.”

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