Page 12 of Curvy Girl and the Protector Cowboy

"I'll get her boots," Charlotte offers, guiding Lucy toward the mudroom.

Miguel looks to me, silently asking permission. I nod, and he follows Lucy excitedly, already listening as she tells him about all the horses he's going to see.

Watching them go, I can’t help but feel guilty. This is the childhood Miguel deserves—open spaces, animals, and other children to play with, not bus stations, motel rooms, and his mother's constant fear.

Charlotte returns to the kitchen and begins pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.

"Those two will be inseparable by lunchtime," she says with a warm smile. "Lucy's been asking for a playmate her age. Vincent's brothers are all grown, and there aren't many families nearby."

I offer a polite smile in return, unsure how to respond. The casual domesticity of this house—pancakes and horses and playdates—feels utterly foreign after the chaos of the past days.

"You and your son would love the ranch," Charlotte continues, assembling what looks like a cheese sandwich. "It's a wonderful place for children. Lucy's flourished here."

"It seems lovely," I acknowledge, glancing at Cole. "But we really need to move on."

"You don't," Cole says quietly.

Charlotte looks between us, sensing the tension. "I'll just... go help with the boots," she murmurs, sliding her half-made sandwich aside and slipping out the back door.

"What are you saying?" I ask once we're alone.

Cole steps closer, his eyes intent on mine. "You could stay. Here, in Cedar Falls. We can help you get set up and find work. No one would have to know where you came from."

"That's—" I shake my head. "That's crazy. You barely know me."

"I know enough," he says simply. "I know you're protecting your son. I know you're brave enough to leave a bad situation. And I know that running forever isn't a solution."

His certainty shakes me. The idea of stopping, of putting down even shallow roots, is both tempting and terrifying.

"It's not that simple," I protest. "Ricardo has connections—"

"And we have a community," Cole counters. "People who look out for each other. Sarah's therapy ranch is always looking for help with the kids' programs. You said you were a teacher."

"I can't just—" My throat tightens suddenly. The weight of decision, of responsibility, presses down on me. "I need some air."

I push past him and out the back door, gulping in the cool morning breeze. The vast openness of the ranch spreads before me—rolling pastures, distant mountains, a sky so wide it makes me dizzy—freedom and exposure all at once.

What if Cole's right? What if I could stop running? What if Miguel could have horses and other children and pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse?

What if Ricardo finds us anyway?

A hand touches my shoulder and I jump, spinning around with my heart in my throat.

It's Cole, his expression apologetic. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you."

I press a hand to my chest, willing my heartbeat to slow. "It's fine."

He leans against the porch railing, giving me space. "Look, I know how crazy this must sound. Strangers offering help, suggesting you stay when every instinct is telling you to keep moving."

I nod, unable to find words.

"My mom used to say that sometimes safety isn't a place, it's people," he continues. "When I was ten, a wildfire nearly took our house. We evacuated with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a couple of photo albums. Lost the barn, almost lost everything. The whole town came together. Rebuilt our barn, brought clothes for us kids, took turns bringing meals for months. Mom said that's when she knew we'd be okay—not when the house was saved, but when she saw how people showed up for us."

The morning sun catches in his hair, highlighting strands of gold among the brown. He turns to face me fully, and something in his steady gaze makes it hard to look away.

"I understand how scary this is," he says softly. "But running forever won't do you or Miguel any good. At some point, you have to stand your ground and build something worth fighting for."

"And you think that should be here?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

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