Page 84 of Guarded from Danger

“Luce.” His voice throbs with emotion. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’m ready to go home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

XAVIER

“This place is really something, Xavier.”

Lucy’s dad claps me on the shoulder as he comes to stand beside me. He glances around the barn and gives it an approving nod before he turns his attention back to me. “Lucy explained everything, but to really see what you and your team have done… It’s very impressive.”

Meeting his gaze, I say, “Thanks, Mr. Thompson. It’s still a work in progress, but we’re proud of what we’ve done so far.”

“It’s more than a work in progress,” Lucy interjects, squeezing my hand as she beams at me. “The Blade and Arrow ranch is incredible.”

“That it is,” her dad agrees with a smile. “And Xavier. Call me James. There’s no need for formalities.”

Lucy’s mom looks away from the foosball table, where she’s been inspecting the little players painted to look like Green Berets, a housewarming gift from Leo’s wife, Georgia. She grins, her face lighting up with the same glow Lucy has. “Absolutely. And remember, you can call me Bette. None of that stuffy Mrs. Thompson business.”

She pauses, her expression turning contemplative. “Although… you might end up calling me something else?—”

Lucy flushes pink. “Mom.” In a gently scolding tone, she asks, “What did we talk about the other day?”

“Sorry, Lucy.” But Lucy’s mom—or Bette, as she’s reminded me each time I see her—doesn’t look the slightest bit sorry. “But I can’t help but feel like Xavier’s part of the family.”

James nods. “I couldn’t agree more.” His smile slides into something more serious. “I always liked you, Xavier. From the first time Lucy brought you over for dinner. But knowing what you did to help our daughter, how you took care of her…”

He swallows hard, emotion working in his eyes.

Bette comes over to stand next to her husband, looping her arm around his waist. “And seeing you two together. Even after everything Lucy’s been through—” Her voice breaks, and she pauses to regain her composure. “Even after that, I’ve never seen my Lucy Loo look happier.”

“Oh, Mom.” Lucy leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Iamhappy.”

I press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I would do anything for Lucy.” My gaze moving between James and Bette, I add, “But she’s dam—darn strong. I’ll always want to protect her, but Luce does a pretty good job taking care of herself, too.”

James gives me an appraising look, then lifts his chin in acknowledgement. “Our Lucy is very strong. Stronger than she gives herself credit for. But something I’ve learned in forty years of marriage is no one can be strong all the time. But when you’re with the right person”—he glances at Bette, smiling affectionately—“they hold you up when you’re struggling. When things seem too heavy to bear, they help carry the weight.”

“That’s what Xavier does.” Lucy tips her head back to look at me. “Not just rescuing me again and again, but when I’mstruggling, he’s there to support me. And I hope I can do the same for him.”

My throat gets thick. “You do.”

And it’s true, in so many ways.

In the week since everything went down with that piece of garbage Amberson, Lucy would have had every reason to focus on herself. To focus on dealing with the nightmares and jumpiness and anxiety triggered by her second abduction.

Fuck. Hersecondabduction. I still feel sick thinking about it.

For all my promises of keeping Lucy safe, I failed.

I’m not the only one feeling guilty, either. The day after the abduction, once we dealt with the police and the FBI and Lucy had managed at least a few hours of rest between the recurrent nightmares, Matt came over to visit. His expression was tortured as he told Lucy, “I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I understand if you can’t forgive me.”

But Lucy wasn’t having any of it. First, she hugged him hard enough to make his back crack, and then she said very firmly, “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. It was not your fault. Just like it wasn’t Xavier’s, like I keep telling him.”

Her features set and gaze fierce, she continued, “There is nothing to forgive, Matt. Nothing. There was no way to predict what would happen. Peter using AI to mimic my mom’s voice? Spoofing her number? Hacking the security at my parents’ house? And he came up with the one story that would guarantee I’d visit them right away. It’s no one’s fault but his.”

Matt looked at her for several long seconds before saying, “But it’s my job, Lucy. I should have?—”

“No.” She shook her head, her long ponytail swinging. “You did everything, Matt. I don’t blame you for anything. The only way you’ll make me upset is to keep blaming yourself. So stop. Please?”

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