Page 92 of Her Redeemed Protector

“I’m sure she’s proud of you. You’re strong,” I praise him. “That means you can ask me anything or tell me how you really feel, okay? And if you need to cry, that’s okay too.”

“I cried yesterday, but I still did not believe. Now, I know it’s true.” He leans against my chest, tentatively at first, but then he lets go completely. He stays silent for a while, attempting something. Then, with determination, he says, “No, I cannot cry.”

“You can. You are allowed to.”

“No, I mean, I cried enough. Now that I’m with you, I don’t need to cry. I have no tears.” With that, he offers me a small smile.

I study his expression. He seems genuinely okay. It could be his resilience shining through, but I can’t afford to be complacent. Grief is a beast that can hide deep in your soul. I’ll be keeping an eye on him, and I’m sure Savannah will be right beside me, ready to assist. “All right, buddy. But if youwant to talk to me, I’m here for you. You won’t be alone. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you, Huxley.” He dips his head and his nod is emphatic this time. “So, in America, I will stay with you?”

“Yes. In a city called Helena.” I pull up a map and point to the little dot representing our new home.

“You have dog?”

“I don’t, but she does. Two of them.” I show him a photo of Savannah, and his eyes light up.

“She… she looks like Mama.”

His innocent observation hits me in the chest. “I know.”

“So, she will be my mother?” His eyes flare with hope as if a big surprise has just been revealed.

“Her name is Savannah. She’s my girlfriend. She’s not going to replace your biological mother, but she will be like another mother to you.”

“What’s byo… byolocical?” He fumbles the word.

“Biological. It means the mother who gave birth to you. That’s Valentina.”

“I see.” He studies Sav’s picture as if not believing she’s real. “Oh, she is so pretty.”

“Tell me about it. And you know what? She’s even prettier in person.”

“I am lucky,” he murmurs.

“I’m lucky to have her, too. And I’m lucky to have you.”

His smile is deep this time, exuding appreciation and excitement. “What is her name again?”

“Savannah. Her dad calls herSaltamontes.”

“Ah!Saltamontes!” Rodolfo grins, clearly thrilled to hear a familiar Spanish word.

“She and her father speak Spanish, so you’ll feel right at home.”

“Thank God for that,” he quips, adopting an American accent as if it was said by an actor in a movie.

I rub his hair friskily, wondering what Sav and I are really in for. “She will love you a lot. And you’ll listen to her, okay? Just like you listen to me.”

“I don’t listen to you,” he challenges me with gusto.

“Well, you will.”

Rodolfo escapes my glare, his attention back to Sav’s photo. He nods seriously. “Is she scary like you?”

“Am I scary?”

“You have gun.”

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