Page 10 of Curvy Girl and the Protector Cowboy

"Prison," I answer honestly. "Followed his dad's footsteps right into trouble. Couldn't break the cycle."

She closes her eyes briefly, pain crossing her features. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

Chapter 4

I close my eyes, "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

When I open them again, Cole is watching me with an expression I can't quite place—not pity, something deeper. Understanding, maybe. It's unsettling how comfortable I feel in this stranger's kitchen, telling him things I've never voiced aloud before.

I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be talking to him. Every minute we stay increases the risk. Ricardo has eyes everywhere, connections that stretch across state lines. Yet I can't make myself move from this stool, can't stop watching my son's delighted face through the window as he reaches out to touch a real horse for the first time.

"You should eat more," Cole says, nodding toward my half-eaten pancake. His voice is gentle, but matter-of-fact, there is no pressure behind it.

I pick up my fork again, suddenly aware of how hungry I actually am. Three days of granola bars and gas station sandwiches haven't done much for either of us.

"You're good at this," I say after another bite.

"Pancakes?" He grins.

"No. Well, yes, but I meant..." I gesture vaguely at the kitchen, the house, the borrowed clothes. "Taking in strays. Making them feel... safe."

His grin softens to something more thoughtful. "Had practice, I guess. Five brothers means someone's always bringing home something broken or lost." He leans against the counter, his weight shifted to favor his good ankle. "It’s like I told you before…Aaron—my brother who served overseas—he came back pretty messed up. Wouldn't talk, barely ate. Jackson figured out that having a routine, a place that didn't change, helped him find his footing again, and I ended up learning a thing or two along the way."

I watch him as he speaks, really see him for the first time. The strong set of his shoulders beneath his worn flannel shirt. The way his dark hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck. The calluses in his hands that speak of years of hard work. He's solid in a way that Ricardo never was—grounded, real.

The thought startles me. I have no business noticing another man's attributes when I'm literally on the run from my almost-husband.

"Why did you run?" Cole asks suddenly, his voice quiet. "You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable. But if you want to talk about it..."

There it is—the question I've been expecting since I appeared on his property. I should deflect, keep my secrets close. But something about Cole Covington makes me want to tell the truth. Maybe it's because he's a stranger, someone I'll never see again after today. Perhaps it's because he hasn't once made me feel judged for showing up in a torn wedding dress with a child in tow.

Or maybe it's simply that I've been carrying this alone for too long.

"Ricardo," I start, his name bitter on my tongue, “Miguel’s father.”

Cole nods but doesn't push, giving me space to continue at my own pace.

"We met when I was nineteen," I continue, staring at my plate rather than meeting Cole's eyes. "He was charming, successful. Treated me like I was special. By the time I realized what his business really was, I was already pregnant with Miguel."

I glance up briefly to gauge Cole's reaction, but his expression remains open, free of judgment.

"He wasn't always..." I struggle to find the right words. "The first years were good. He loved Miguel, was generous, protective. I convinced myself that the rumors about his business dealings were exaggerated. That the flash of temper he showed sometimes was just stress."

Outside, Miguel is giggling as Sarah shows him how to offer an apple to the horse.

"This past year, everything changed. He became more controlling, more secretive. Suddenly decided we needed to get married after years of saying marriage was just a piece of paper." I twist my hands in my lap. "When I suggested we slow down, take more time, he—" My voice catches. "He slapped me. Hard enough to split my lip."

Cole's jaw tightens, but he remains silent, letting me tell it my way.

"He apologized, of course. Brought flowers, promised it would never happen again. And I..." I laugh humorlessly. "I went along with it. Told myself it was for Miguel, that he needed his father, that one mistake didn't erase the good years."

The shame of my own weakness burns in my throat.

"The wedding was his idea—big, flashy, a statement to everyone in our town about his power. I didn't want it, but I was too afraid to say no again." I look up, meeting Cole's steady gaze. "That morning, getting dressed, watching them put Miguel in that little suit... I suddenly saw our future so clearly. The spiral of control, the violence that would only get worse. The kind of man Miguel would grow up thinking it was normal to be."

I take a shaky breath. "So I ran. While everyone was busy with preparations, I grabbed Miguel and my purse and just... left. No plan, no destination. Just away."

"That took courage," Cole says quietly.

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