Page 11 of Marked by my Protector (Inked and Possessive. Rugged Mountain Ink #3)

Sloane

I want to go back into the cornfield and hide with Tank forever. I want his big, rough hands all over me, his deep voice in my ear, his strength in every touch.

Instead, I’m staring at my parents. They look like two aliens who’ve been set down in a world they don’t belong in.

My dad wears a three-piece suit and my mother is in one of the dresses she bought in Paris last year.

It was ‘off the rack’ so I’m sure she feels like she’s slumming it, though I’m pretty sure I remember at least four zeros on the price tag.

“Sloane Matilda Hearthlow!” My mother’s tone is low and angled in on me like it was when I was thirteen and I tripped and fell, breaking her favorite vase she imported from Greece on a family trip.

“What are you doing with this,” she drags her gaze up and over Tank, his grip still tight against my waist as I hang over his shoulder, “beast!”

Tank sets me down on the grass, and though Fall-Fest still spins around us, the excitement of the bluegrass band dulls in the backdrop of my parents stomping toward me.

I step behind the beast in question as they near.

“Stop,” Tank groans. There’s conviction in his tone as he reaches for the pistol he keeps tucked in his jeans.

My father whips back his jacket and pulls out his phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

Tank laughs and shakes his head. “I know every cop in this town. Good luck, buddy.”

“Is this man holding you here, Sloane?” My mother’s tone is biting as a cool wind whips across the field and blows her perfect hair out of place. “It’s going to be okay, honey. We’ll get you help. Has he hurt you? Please tell me he hasn’t hurt you, darling.”

I huff out a sigh of something that feels like anger.

My mother doesn’t care what I do half the time.

She’s barely played a role in my life. Sure, I tagged along on family vacations and stood in all the right places for her curated photos of a happy family, but she never once cared to get to know me.

She never once cared to know who I am or to foster an environment for me to figure it out myself.

“No. I’m fine,” I snap, stepping out from behind Tank.

“Stop,” I glance back toward the giant who’s helped me out of my shell the last couple of days, “I like him. I’m staying in Rugged Mountain.

I want to ride horses, get lost in the trees, then come to Fall-Fest and listen to music and play in the field.

I want to feel things. Real people things.

” In my head, I’m explaining my choices but I’m pretty sure all my parents hear is whine, whine, whine.

My mother does this laughing cough thing that’s both sarcastic and dismissive.

“You always have had terrible taste in men, Sloane. Do you remember your first boyfriend? That boy from the city who ran the video game club. He was held back twice, but you thought he was a dreamboat. That was one thing. This… this is just another reason why your father and I should be choosing your life partner. Now, you insult us by shacking up with a criminal twice your age.”

My brows narrow. “You don’t get to judge him because he has tattoos, okay. They’re—”

“This isn’t about the tattoos, darling.” My mother laughs again as though she’s got something over me, and I don’t like the feeling. “Your new boyfriend here… is an actual criminal. We had time to check his background on the way over.”

I roll my eyes and glance back at Tank. “Let’s go. We don’t have to listen to this.”

He stands still, jaw locked, eyes fixed on my parents. I can’t tell if he’s angry at them or if he’s still protecting me. Either way, I need to leave.

“Come on.” I nudge him again.

This time his eyes draw down toward me, and I know without words that my mother is right.

He clears his throat and looks toward me, his gaze downturned as though he’s ashamed.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, but I… I’m sorry.

Delilah was hanging out with this group of people in the Springs for a while.

They were bad news, and she was constantly in trouble.

” He brushes his hand down over his beard and my heart skips at what might be coming.

“One night, she’d called for me to come pick her up.

I showed up and this guy has her by the hair and he’s dragging her back to his car.

” Tank shrugs. “I lost it. I drew my gun, I shot his buddy to keep him from getting too close, then I went after the guy with his hands on Del and made sure he never used ‘em again.”

He sighs. “After a load of deals, I pled guilty to aggravated assault and spent five years in state prison.”

I stare at him, the words sinking like stones in a riverbed. Five years . Not months. Not probation. Prison.

Fall-Fest hums behind us, banjos still twanging, kids still laughing, the scent of kettle corn still drifting through the air, but it all feels distant now. Like I’ve stepped out of the scene and into something heavier.

My mother’s voice echoes in my head. He’s a criminal.

She’s right. Legally, technically, undeniably, he is.

He is, but when I look at him, I don’t see a monster. I see a man who’d do anything to protect the people he cares about.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” His sandpaper hand lands on my elbow, anchoring me to the moment. “I kept trying to find the right time, but something kept coming up.”

“It doesn’t matter why he went to jail, Sloane.

He’s a violent man. A ruffian. What will you do when he comes after you?

When you make him angry, what then? If you think you can go running back to this arranged marriage, you can’t.

This man we’ve set you up with will move on.

He has money, looks, and a thriving business.

You and your children will be set for life.

If nothing else, think about your future kids. ”

I laugh under my breath. “He won’t have a family with me.” I say the words that’ve been on my tongue for years now. They don’t sting as much as I thought they would. “I can’t have children.”

Silence ensues, sharp and gutting.

My parents step back as though they’re appalled by my statement. “What are you talking about?”

“A few years ago I was having pain, so I went to see a doctor who told me my chances of ever having a child are slim to none. It’s a medical thing.”

My mother’s face twists. “And you’re just telling us this now? We can see other doctors. Someone will be able to help you, Sloane. This is just like you, quitting before you even know the outcome.”

Tank’s jaw tightens, and he speaks steadily like thunder rolling across the horizon as he says, “Watch your mouth.”

“You going to beat me too, cowboy, then claim it’s self-defense?” My mother scoffs and rolls her head back. “Maybe you two deserve each other.”

Tank doesn’t flinch or raise his voice. He steps forward, slow and deliberate, and looks my mother dead in the eye. “You think I’m the threat?” he says, voice low. “Lady, you’ve been tearing her down since the day she was born. You don’t need fists to break someone. You do it with words.”

My mother opens her mouth, but Tank cuts her off.

“She’s not broken, and she’s not yours to fix.” Then he turns to me, eyes softening just enough to let me breathe again. “You ready?”

I nod. No theatrics, no speeches, just a quiet yes. A yes to everything. Yes to his past, yes to his present, yes to a life without my parents breathing down my neck with judgment.

Hands intertwined, we walk. Past the booths, past the music, past the people who watched it all unfold. No one stops us. No one dares.

For the first time in my life, I’m finally walking toward something I chose, and it feels pretty damn good.