Page 9 of Curvy Girl and the Protector Cowboy

"I'll take good care of him," Sarah adds softly, and something in her tone—professional but compassionate—seems to reach Luisa.

"Alright." She kneels to Miguel's level, straightening his shirt. "Listen to Miss Sarah, okay? And come right back if I call."

"I will!" He throws his arms around her neck for a quick hug, then bounces toward Sarah, his earlier caution forgotten in the face of promised horses.

"There are boots by the door that might fit him," I tell Sarah. "Lucy's old ones, I think."

Sarah nods, already guiding Miguel toward the mud room. "We'll find them. Back in fifteen."

The back door closes behind them, leaving Luisa and me in sudden silence. She stands immediately, moving to the window where she can watch their progress toward the paddock.

"Sarah's great with kids," I say, flipping the last pancake onto a plate. "She runs an equine therapy program on a ranch nearby. Works with veterans and children who've been through trauma."

Luisa doesn't respond, her eyes fixed on Miguel's small figure as Sarah helps him climb on the lowest rail of the fence.

"He'll be fine," I add, sliding a plate of pancakes across the island toward her. "Eat something while they're gone. You'll need your strength."

She turns from the window reluctantly and looks at the food. For a moment, I think she'll refuse, but then her shoulders slump slightly.

"Thank you," she says, taking a seat at the island. She cuts a small piece but doesn't lift it to her mouth. "I don't know why I'm even here. This wasn't the plan."

I lean against the counter, giving her space. "Plans change sometimes."

Her laugh is short, humorless.

"Yeah. Mine certainly did." She gestures vaguely at herself—the borrowed clothes, the bare feet. "Three days ago I was supposed to get married. Now I'm running for my life with my son, wearing a stranger's clothes, in a state I've never been to."

"Whoever he is," I say carefully, "he won't find you here."

She looks up. "You don't know that. You don't know him."

"No," I agree. "But I know this town. Folks here mind their own business. And I know this ranch—six hundred acres, five brothers who know every inch of it. No one comes onto Covington land without us knowing."

She studies me for a long moment, weighing my words. Finally, she takes a bite of pancake, chewing slowly as if buying time to think.

"It's not just about finding a safe place to hide," she says finally. "It's about... starting over. Somewhere he'd never think to look." She shakes her head. "I took the first bus I could without even checking where it was going. All I could think was to get as far away as possible. Miguel's father... he has connections there. Powerful ones."

I connect the dots carefully. "The kind of connections that make police reports disappear?"

Her eyes meet mine, sharp and assessing. "The kind that make people disappear."

"That why you didn't want to call the police yesterday?"

"Police can't help me," she says flatly. "They're either on his payroll or too scared to cross him. And I know here might be different, but I don’t want to risk it."

Outside, Miguel's delighted laugh carries through the open window as Sarah leads Buttercup closer to the fence. Luisa's gaze shifts toward the sound, her expression softening.

"He deserves better than this," she whispers. "Running, hiding, always looking over our shoulders. But staying would have been worse."

"You did right by him," I say firmly. "Getting him out."

She looks back at me, surprise flashing across her face, as if she expected judgment instead of support.

"Most people would say I should have tried harder to make it work," she says. "For Miguel's sake."

"Most people haven't seen what a bad situation can do to a kid," I counter. "My best friend growing up—his dad was bad news. His mom kept saying they needed to stay together 'for the family.' All it did was teach him that fear was normal."

Luisa absorbs this, taking another bite of pancake. "Where is he now? Your friend."

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