Page 5 of Curvy Girl and the Protector Cowboy

My mind races, calculating risks. Staying means potential discovery. Leaving means wandering unfamiliar woods with a tired child as night falls.

"You could take my truck," Cole offers unexpectedly. "Just... bring it back tomorrow, if you can."

I stare at him, stunned by the offer. "You'd lend your truck to a complete stranger?"

He finally meets my eyes, his expression unreadable. "You're running from something bad. I don't know what, and I'm not asking. But that little boy needs rest, and you look about ready to collapse yourself."

My vision blurs with sudden, unwelcome tears. I blink them back fiercely. Weakness is a luxury I can't afford.

"Why would you help us?" My voice comes out harsher than intended.

Cole shrugs, a simple gesture that somehow conveys both compassion and respect for my suspicion.

"Because that’s what me and my brothers do. We help animals and people," he says simply. "Keys are in my pocket. Take them or don't. Your choice."

As Miguel's head droops against my shoulder, I realize I've run out of good options. Only bad and worse remain.

I reach for another cookie, buying myself time to decide.

Miguel's weight grows heavier against me as his body surrenders to sleep. His breathing slows, and I feel the slight dampness of drool beginning to form on my shoulder. The familiar weight of him centers me even as panic flutters in my chest.

I look at Cole's truck in the distance, then down at my sleeping son. Three nights of constantly moving, always alert. My body aches with a bone-deep fatigue that makes even thinking difficult.

"I..." I start, then swallow hard. "I haven't slept for days. I don't think I should be driving."

Cole nods, unsurprised. "Offer still stands for a room. Clean sheets, lock on the door. You can leave whenever you want."

The setting sun casts long shadows across the property, the woods beyond already dark and uninviting. Miguel shifts in his sleep, his little face peaceful for the first time in days.

"Your family..." I hesitate.

"Won't ask questions you don't want to answer," Cole finishes.

I weigh my options one final time. The logical part of my brain screams that this is reckless, dangerous. But the mother in me, the part that's been running on nothing but adrenaline and fear, looks at my exhausted child and makes the decision.

"One night," I say firmly. "We'll be gone in the morning."

Cole nods, neither relieved nor triumphant.

"Fair enough." He pushes himself to his feet, wincing slightly as he puts weight on his bad ankle. "Need help with him?" he asks, nodding toward Miguel.

"No." The answer comes too quickly, too sharply. I soften my tone. "No, thank you. I've got him."

I gather Miguel in my arms, his body limp with sleep. He's getting too big to carry for long, but I've managed worse these past months. I stand, adjusting his weight against my hip, and follow Cole toward the house.

As we approach, I can see figures moving behind the windows and hear the muffled sounds of conversation and laughter. This is a normal family life… Something Miguel hasn't had since he was a toddler.

"Let me go in first," Cole says, pausing at the steps. "Give me two minutes to explain."

I nod, grateful for the moment to collect myself. Cole disappears inside, and I hear the conversation pause, then resume with a different cadence. True to his word, he returns quickly.

"All set," he says, holding the door open. "Guest room's upstairs, first door on the right. Bathroom's across the hall. Sarah put out some clothes for you."

I step inside, immediately overwhelmed by the warmth and smells—something Italian cooking, fresh-baked cookies, furniture polish. It's chaotic but homey, with boots lined up by the door and family photos covering the walls.

All eyes turn toward me, their expressions carefully neutral. A woman steps forward— she must be Sarah.

"Hi," she says softly. "I've turned down the bed and left towels in the bathroom if you'd like to shower."

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