Page 37 of Her Remarkable Protector

“Is it about Laramie?” I ask, keeping my tone measured.

Oakley’s eyes well up, his defenses cracking. “I love her, okay? I’d never hurt her. But I should’ve known Honor couldn’t take care of us both. And compared to Laramie, I’m nothing to her!”

His words hit hard, but I keep my expression calm. “Oakley,” I say, leaning forward, “can we agree on a few things?”

He nods hesitantly, brushing a tear off his cheek.

“First,” I begin, “Honor loves you like her own son.”

He scoffs, but there’s doubt rather than defiance in his voice. “I don’t know about that.”

“She does,” I say firmly.

“When I came here earlier, I told her I missed her. She didn’t say anything,” Oakley complains, his voice carrying that mix of hurt and frustration only a teenager can master.

I smile faintly, though my heart tugs at the vulnerability in his tone. It’s amazing how something so small can feel monumental at his age.

“Listen,” I say slowly. “The first thing she asked when she came out of surgery wasn’t about herself. It was about you. I was here, Oakley. I heard her say it. ‘Is Oakley safe?’”

His face twists, conflict written all over it—defiance warring with the undeniable truth of my words. But he doesn’t speak, and I can see the cracks forming in his wall of resistance.

“And she didn’t send you back when you ran from your parents, did she?” I add. “She took a massive risk keeping you with her. She loves you, Oakley.”

“I know,” he admits, his voice barely audible. “I know she loves me.”

“Good. Second,” I carry on, “Laramie is going to be her priority. Not because she’s her biological daughter, but because she’s a baby. She needs more right now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, nodding, though his shoulders are still tense.

“And third,” I add more firmly, “you know your parents are dangerous, right?”

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes.

“You do,” I press. “Because if they weren’t, you wouldn’t have followed Honor all the way to Wild Horse Island.”

That lands. He bows his head, the fight draining from him.

“You did the right thing leaving behind your parents and the Stoneborn Circle,” I say. “But you’ve got to let us help you move forward.”

He sighs, his voice heavy with hopelessness. “I just hate living in that house.” Then he looks at Ethan, his expression easing. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t hate you. I just can’t live there anymore.”

Ethan nods, his voice calm and understanding. “Point taken. It’s a secure house, and you haven’t been allowed out. I get it. I’m glad you told me.”

I lean back slightly, giving Oakley space to process. “Oakley,” I say, “I need you to clarify something for me. Affirm it. You don’t want to go back to the Circle, right? Not your parents, not the people you think might still be your friends. None of it.”

He looks up, meeting my gaze for the first time. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Good,” I say. “Now, what’s the solution?”

Ethan jumps in, his tone calm but sincere. “Tell you what. My parents’ house feels like a prison—not just because of the fortified everything—but because there’s no one else there except me and my dad. My mom’s out on a business trip with the twins. And Noah—he’s your age, by the way—he’s off at summer camp.”

I keep my focus on Oakley, watching his expression closely. His jaw tightens at first, but then it loosens. He’s listening, even if he doesn’t want to show it.

Ethan continues, “If you’re willing to stick it out with me and my dad for a couple more days, we’ll head to the farm together with Noah, the twins, and my mom. She’s cool. You’d like her.”

Oakley’s brow furrows as he thinks it over. His skepticism is still there, but I can see it start to fade. “I don’t know…” he says slowly. “Will that just be another prison? But bigger?”

Smart kid. He’s asking the right questions, not just blindly agreeing.

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