Page 75 of Her Redeemed Protector

“What’s so fucking funny?” My voice booms through the small space of the cottage, savage and jagged with pain.

“Gee, Hux. I didn’t…”

“How dare you let this place rot!” I shout, hiding Valentina’s photo inside my back pocket. The rodent is gone, but the sudden burst of anger isn’t just about that. It’s about this place, about everything that’s been lost and left unattended.

Micah freezes, his earlier humor evaporating into a cold standoff. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snaps back, his face hardening. “This damn shack has been a crumbling mess for ages, Hux!”

“Under your watch, Mic!” I point at him in reaction to his tone that claims its fate.

“The hell with you! If you’re having problems with your missus down by the river, don’t let it out on me!”

My fists form, but I rein myself and kick a three-legged chair in the corner instead, sending it crashing to the dusty floor with a sound that seems too loud, too final.

And there, behind the door, stands Savannah, her eyes wide, a silent witness to my unraveling.

Micah’s expression shifts from defiance to confusion and then resignation as he realizes this isn’t just about the cottage or the rat. Without another word, he turns and leaves.

Savannah moves toward me, her presence like a warm blanket against the cold bite of my rage. She wraps her arms around me. “Hux, he was just poking a joke,” she murmurs against my shoulder. Perhaps she thinks I’m offended because Micah just called her my ‘missus’ in a comedic way that I didn’t welcome.

“I know,” I grumble back, the image of the rat tangled up with darker, deeper threads of pain. “But—damn rat!” My voice breaks.

“Right. It was just a rat,” she says.

I growl. Not her, too. “Yeah, just a rat,” I rein in my anger. I don’t blame her for not understanding, and I’m not about to explain why those critters set me off.

“Let’s go,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry. I just hate those pests, okay?” I reply, the words feeling hollow, insufficient to cover the breadth of my grief. Her embrace tightens, her might and compassion a juxtaposition against the raw edges of my own vulnerabilities. For the first time, it feels wrong. How will she handle knowing that my heart is still entertaining the ghost of ‘what ifs’ with Valentina?

Together, we step out of the cottage, leaving its shadows behind as the scent of Mom’s cooking reaches us, a reminder of the world outside my grief. The commonality of rats on a farm might not stir a second thought under normalcircumstances, but for me, it’s a trigger, a stark reminder of the brutality that once invaded my life, as vivid and harrowing as if death itself had left its mark.

28

SAVANNAH

I draw our bedroom curtains, closing the view to the midnight falling at Starfire Ranch. As the sounds of the distant crickets reach my ears, the reality that it’s our last night here begins to settle in.

A pang of reluctance twists in my stomach, the kind that comes when you’re not ready to release your grip on a cherished chapter. Yet Helena’s call is insistent. Despite my father’s invigorated spirit, his well-being remains my charge. Moreover, there’s the impending appointment with the education minister at the Disability Services—an engagement where my attendance isn’t just expected. It’s essential.

When I turn from the veiled window, my eyes find Huxley. The bathroom light casts a halo around him as he stands at the sink. “Hey, you okay?” I ask, watching his reflection in the mirror, his movements momentarily pausing as he meets my gaze through the glass.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice muffled by the mint foam at his lips.

The evening mirrored our first night at the ranch, full of laughter and the exceptional flavors of Micah’s cooking. Yet,amid the merriment, I caught Huxley looking lost in thought, his attention occasionally drifting. I didn’t venture to ask why he had spent another afternoon at the foreman’s quarters.

He slides into bed beside me, tugging the blanket around us. His skin carries the fragrance of lavender from my soap, a reminder of the soothing evenings after a day of fun and work at the ranch. The minty freshness from his breath mingles with the air, part of our nightly ritual that I’ve grown fond of.

Noticing his relaxed demeanor, I prod restrainedly, “You were at the cottage again.”

He exhales a heavy sigh. “Yeah.”

My fingers trace a line down his arm, a tactile question. “Is there something on your mind about it?”

“I was wondering why Micah and Mom decided to leave that building untouched when they renovated the others. It was my happy place.”

“Did you ask them?”

He turns to face me, his hand propping up his head as he looks into my eyes. “Look, Sav. I’m sorry you had to see me so upset that night.”

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