Page 12 of Her Remarkable Protector
I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “My parents weren’t saints either.” It’s true, they weren’t perfect. Not like his, though. His parents are a whole different kind of destructive. But there’s something invisible about the bond between a child and their parents—unbreakable cords that tug at you no matter what. Unfortunately, when those parents are cruel, the tug is harsher, more painful. “Still... I’d give anything to have them back.”
“I’m not a kid anymore,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “I know how to take care of myself. I don’t need to stay, just to be their punching bag.”
He’s only thirteen. But looking at him now, I realize he’s had to grow up in ways no child should. Too much, too fast—in a way, reminding me of myself.
“When you have the baby, you’ll need help,” he adds quietly. “I can help.”
I sigh, feeling the weight of his words settle on my shoulders. I don’t need his help—not really. But I can’t send him back. Not this time. He might not survive the fallout if I do.
“All right,” I say finally. “You can stay. But you have to listen to me. No arguments.”
He nods, relief flooding his face.
“And you won’t be ‘shredding’ for a while,” I jab.
“It’s cool. Skating can wait. Going to the park’s basically just playing hide and seek with my parents anyway,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But when we’re settled, I’m free to go, right?”
“Yeah. But you’ve gotta be patient,” I say, though I’m not sure how long teenage patience actually lasts. Minutes, maybe?
“What’s for dinner?” he asks, like he’s trying to pretend we’re on some kind of camping trip.
I snort, kneeling to unpack my bag. “Mountain food.”
His face scrunches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see,” I reply, smirking as I pull out the small stash of supplies I managed to carry.
His eyes widen, caught somewhere between excitement and dread. “I thought you’d be out there with a bow and arrow or something. You know, teaching me how to live off the land.”
I hold up a pack of Back Country Lamb and Vegetables, shaking it like it’s a Michelin-star meal. “Sorry to disappoint, Katniss. Welcome to real survival.”
He stares blankly, and I realize with a sigh thatHunger Gamesisn’t his generation. Kids these days have no idea how good they’ve got it.
“We’ll camp here tonight,” I say, zipping the bag closed. “But tomorrow, we’re leaving at first light. If you found me, someone else could too.”
“Where are we going?” Oakley asks.
“Can I trust you if I tell you?” I counter.
“Of course! We’re in this together, right?”
“Great Falls,” I reveal, watching his expression carefully.
“You’ve got money?” he presses.
“A little. Not much, but enough to get by.”
I worked. Teaching, real estate, retail—whatever paid the bills. Then Damon recruited me as his ‘distraction specialist,’ luring his targets in but never letting them have me. By the time they realized they’d been played, I was already gone. I’ve scraped by on next to nothing, saving whatever I could.
Oakley rummages through his bag, pulling out a thick wad of cash. He offers it with an innocent grin. “This’ll help.”
“Oak?” My eyes narrow. “Where did you get this?”
His sly smile answers before his words do. “Call it my pocket money.”
I growl under my breath but take it anyway. Damn it, it’ll more than help.
Oakley settles on a nearby rock, running a hand through his hair, the easy grin slipping into something more contemplative. I’ve just dragged him further into my chaos. Yet even in this mess, it’s a better option than leaving him with his toxic parents.
