34. Savannah
34
SAVANNAH
Misty stands patiently near the barn door, her coat shining under the shafts of light.
“She’s all fine,” the vet announces after completing his thorough annual check-up, a note of satisfaction in his voice.
“Thanks, doc!” I reply with a relieved smile, happy to hear the positive report. I lead Misty toward the end of the barn. She’s earned some pampering after the long check-up. “You hear that? A clean bill of health.”
As I begin to brush Misty’s glossy coat, a figure appears at the entrance of the stable. Misty’s ears prick up before I even look up. Without needing a word, she turns and takes a few eager steps toward the visitor. I let her. My heart clenches slightly, mixed emotions bubbling up as I watch her greet him.
“Hey, girl. How are ya?” Huxley’s voice is calm as he pats Misty. The mare nuzzles into his hand, unmistakably pleased.
“She always has a soft spot for you,” I say, my voice flat, my feelings tucked away as if wrapped under a black tarp. Seeing him stirs both jubilation and annoyance within me, leaving my excitement tangled with apprehension .
I saunter toward him, my boots scuffing the straw-covered floor.
Huxley meets me halfway, his expression earnest. “Can we talk?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for an opening.
His words are familiar, usually a prelude to something ending. But this time, I find myself hoping for a different outcome. Despite myself, I’ve missed him, and yes, we do need to talk.
I nod, leading Misty back to the back of the barn and continuing to brush her down.
Hux’s voice is low, slightly shaky. “There’s only one woman.”
My strokes on Misty’s mane slow, and I pause, his words snagging my attention. The sentence is incomplete, yet provoking. My gaze lingers on the barn floor, tracing patterns in the scattered hay, not ready to hear my name, or Valentina’s, following that statement.
“There’s only one woman who sees me as I am,” he continues, stepping just a bit closer, “honors me as I was, and supports who I want to become.”
I finally look up, meeting his clear, open gaze. I haven’t encountered such raw honesty before, his eyes unguarded, revealing everything without a hint of concealment.
“The thing with Valentina hurt me. It nearly broke me,” he confesses with a fragility that takes me aback.
I value his forthrightness, especially how he doesn’t hesitate to mention her by name instead of letting it simmer unsaid between us.
“And I’m ready to leave that pain behind. I don’t love Valentina. I love you .”
Me.
He loves me.
His statement cuts off any notion of love for Valentina, instilling a new sense of trust in me. Yet, I find myself momentarily lost for words. This conversation is becoming so deep, so suddenly.
And he seems to understand. “Ask me anything, Sav. Whatever you need to know,” he encourages, respecting the distance I’ve kept between us.
But then, a nagging thought interrupts. The image of a car I’ve seen lurking too often to be a coincidence. So far, I haven’t managed to catch it to see who’s driving. “Were you following me?” I ask, unable to mask the suspicion in my voice.
Huxley frowns, genuinely surprised by the accusation. “No. No. Your dad told me you were here.”
I nod, feeling a mix of relief and foolishness. He was the prime suspect, but deep down, a part of me knew Huxley wasn’t the type to skulk around—unless he’d lost all sense of reason.
“I guess my father has a soft spot for you too,” I say, a touch of irony coloring my tone, somewhat amused that Hux survived a chat with my dad, who was livid when he heard about our breakup. Or perhaps it was just disappointment. Dad’s disappointment tends to look a lot like rage.
Do I trust him as much as my father seems to?
Can heartfelt words truly mend the hurt of that night or erase the image of that photograph from my mind?
I feel the sting of old wounds. Discovering her photo in his wallet and him crying over it, kissing it, resurfaces painfully. “Finding you with her photo like that felt like you were cheating on me.”
He nods. “I should have been honest with you then. I meant to be, but… I just froze. I didn’t know how to explain. You have to know, I would never cheat on you. Neither with someone else nor with a memory.”
The heat of the events starts ebbing from my throat. I can’t hold on to the anger, not for long. I guide him outside to a bench near the barn. Misty, aware that her treats are in my possession, trails behind. I secure her to a nearby pole, and she happily munches on the carrots and wheat.
“Why did you keep her photo? Why the rage at the old foreman’s quarters? Why kiss it that night after we made love?” I ask, needing to lay all my cards on the table.
He shuffles closer on the bench, his familiar scent traveling to me. It’s relaxing and disarming, but I resist the urge to lean into him. This conversation needs space, clarity. Not the muddled assuagement of physical closeness. I must stick to my own ‘protocol.’
Huxley inhales deeply, his look grave. “You’re right to ask. Everything unraveled at that cottage. That place… it was where my dream was supposed to come true. I had plans, big plans to bring her here to settle down, to make that place our home.” His voice drops, heavy with what might have been.
I nod, listening, the puzzle pieces from that night slowly falling into place. His outburst, his distress, suddenly framed in a different light.
He adds, “That photo has been in my wallet since Valentina and I met, tucked away in a hidden pocket. I honestly forgot about it over the years, even though she was still on my mind. But being back at that cottage, seeing it so rundown, it triggered something in me. For the first time in years, I pulled out that photo.”
That explanation fits. The photo’s worn edges had the look of something long pressed into a corner and forgotten.
“I’m not carrying it with me anymore. Do you believe me, Sav?”
“Yeah, I do,” I reply, bracing myself to revisit the painful chain of events that had driven a wedge between us. “What about that night at your house? ”
Huxley pauses, visibly gathering himself. His hands form tight fists at his sides, and his jaw clenches. “After everything that happened in the jungle…” He touches the scar on his face almost reflexively, a telltale sign he’s revisiting that dark day. “I told you the cartel killed Valentina.”
“Yeah,” I acknowledge.
He shakes his head, a shadow passing over his face. “They didn’t just kill her. They mutilated her.” He pauses, his breath catching, then he curses through gritted teeth, “Her body?—”
I remain silent, giving him space, watching as he battles the demons of his past right in front of me. It’s clear there’s more tormenting him than just the brutality of Valentina’s fate.
Finally, he looks at me, his eyes haunted and deep. “The butchers of the cartel...” he starts, his voice trembling. “They severed her body in two. It’s their signature. The top half was discovered on a worn church bench.” His hands move to cover his face as he grapples with the memory so grotesque and shocking.
Then he rises with an agonized growl. “Those damn rats!” He slams his boot against the packed earth of the barnyard. The disgust and rage in his expression are more intense than I’ve ever seen. “They feasted on what remained of her.”
This is brutality beyond what a human being should ever have to comprehend. Huxley has borne the weight of this secret alone, shielding others from the dark reality while somehow maintaining his own sanity. It’s a testament to his strength and how he has managed to compartmentalize such a horrendous truth.
“Oh, Hux. I’m so sorry...” Protocol be damned, I can’t help myself and rise to my feet to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Although he holds himself rigid, as if comfort is the last thing he needs, I can’t suppress my instinct to try to ease his pain.
Gradually, he relaxes into my arms, his facade of toughness melting away. He whispers, his voice barely audible, “That night, when you and I argued, I should’ve told you, but I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Hux. I walked out on you without giving you a chance to explain.” My own regret mingles with his.
He caresses my cheeks, looking into my eyes. “I didn’t give you a chance, Sav. It was my fault, I’m sorry. And maybe that was what I was trying to say in my sleep, something that I couldn’t in my waking life. That I’m sorry—to you and to Valentina.” His confession is raw, his emotions unfiltered.
I thumb away the tears that escape his eyes, pulling him close again, holding onto the man who, despite his outward strength, now seems so defenseless.
“You received a call that night, and it upset you, didn’t it?” I ask, piecing together the fragments of that painful evening.
“Valentina’s mother called me. She told me that they finally found the rest of her remains. That’s why I was in the dining room, crying with Valentina’s photo in my hand.” His voice breaks as he continues, “I longed for her so badly. I just wanted her to have a moment to hear how sorry I was for letting her down and for the torture she must’ve endured.”
I nod, leaning in, a gesture to show I’m not running away.
“But know this, Sav, even in that moment, I never stopped thinking of you. I never stopped loving you. You’re never second best to me. Never.”
I rest my forehead against his chest, drawing solace from the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm I’ve missed more than I realized. His arms wrap around me, his touch reaffirming that he’s truly here, with me.
“Hux… I was too harsh on you. I reacted without un derstanding the full story,” I admit, my voice muffled against his shirt.
“Because I didn’t share it with you,” he responds.
His hands cradle my face, lifting it so he can see the pain reflected in my glassy eyes. He knows this hurts us both.
“I swear on my life, Sav. I love you. I love you in a way I never loved her,” he confesses, his voice imbued with earnestness. The use of the past tense— loved —marks a clear boundary between then and now.
“Valentina and I… we had a bond. The danger we were in kept us connected, yes, but it was more about protection,” he continues, his eyes searching mine for understanding. “I won’t deny there was love there, something I fought for because I had a dream.”
“Love starts with a dream,” I say, prompting him to reflect.
“You have to know this. That love was different. If you believe there are different types of love.”
I take a slow breath, releasing it as I mull over the concept. How you love someone depends on who that person is. The way I loved Fabian was night and day compared to how I love Hux. “I do,” I reply.
“I may sound absurd, but I was so desperate to be Valentina’s defender, to be the man I thought I should’ve been. It was all superlative, yet we never explored what our togetherness really meant. And I’ve stopped asking myself that, voluntarily, happily. Because…” He cups my chin, his touch tender. “Because I’m with you. You’re absolutely right that love starts with a dream. I thought you were my dream, Sav. But, you and me, it’s something else. It’s deep, it’s real.”
His words, clear yet heartfelt, allay my doubts.
He continues, “You fill me with awe and contentment. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like I’m bathed in unearthly rain, leaving me euphoric inside. I mean... ”
I interrupt, lightening the mood with my own interpretation of his statement. “The sex was amazing?”
A smile spreads across his face. “Hell, Sav, it was mind-blowing!”
We both chuckle. The welcome reprieve alleviates the intense atmosphere.
Soon, the vibes change once again.
He takes a deep breath, sincerity in his voice, “Everything we’ve shared floored me, confused me, scared me, yet it strengthened me. It brought out the best in me, everything that love should be.”
Everything love should be.
His words cut deep, seeping inside me with sincerity and stirring my emotions. Sometimes, I’ve thought love was just a lofty ideal, something people strive for but never truly attain. But with Hux, it feels real.
“I don’t want to lose you, Sav.” His voice is firm, filled with a modesty that pulls at my heartstrings.
“You won’t lose me, Hux,” I reply, feeling my own emotions swell. “Because I love you too, more deeply than you even know.”
For a brief moment, we’re lost in each other, covered in a perfect bubble of mutual understanding and affection. We kiss, our lips meeting with a gentleness that seals our promises of a shared future.
But then, I sense a subtle change in his hold. It’s slight, but to me, it’s as clear as day. I know him too well not to notice.
“What is it, Hux?” I ask, easing back to look into his eyes.
He pauses, the significance of his next words seeming to weigh on him. “I’m going to ask you for a big favor. A huge one,” he admits, searching my eyes for a sign of understanding.
“Tell me,” I urge, my voice steady .
He takes a deep breath. “Please understand, I didn’t tell you I love you just to make you agree to this. It’s more than an agenda. But you can say nothing, and you can say no. I will respect your decision, and it won’t change how I feel about you. But here’s what I need to do. I need to go to Colombia to rescue her son.”
My heart races, not quite ready for this twist. “Her son? As in, your son too?”
“No, not mine. When Valentina and I met, he was four. After the raid in the jungle, I promised to take her and her son here. But while I was in the hospital, the cartel got to her first. Her son ran away with his grandmother. Now, his grandmother has been shot dead.”
“Oh, no! How old is he now? Eight?” I ask, trying to grasp the gravity of the situation.
“Yes,” he confirms. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this from the start. Call me a liar, a coward. I don’t care, as long as you know that I love you.”
“What are you going to do? Smuggle him into the country?” I inquire, the seriousness of the situation dawning on me.
“No. He and his mother were supposed to migrate here after that day, but of course, she didn’t make it. However, Rodolfo has a U.S. Passport, and the CIA has fulfilled their promise—for a change. They’ve prepared the paperwork for me to bring him here. So I’m not doing it under the table. Red Mark knows, too.” His explanation lays bare the complexity of his commitment not only to the past but to our future as well.
I avert his gaze, processing the implications of what it means to bring the boy here.
Hux speaks up, “Sav, I just want to bring him here so he’s safe. He doesn’t have to be a part of our life if you don’t want him to be. ”
His words linger in the air as I ponder. My life has been surrounded by cattle and everything ranching, but kids have always been a part of my days, too.
Suddenly, a burst of happiness fills me at the thought of an eight-year-old boy finding safety with us.
Hux continues, “I talked to Mark. He and Ivy are willing to help if?—”
I can’t contain my excitement. Hell, I can’t wait to meet this boy!
Huxley looks at me, his features creasing as if he fears my reaction might be one of distress. “Sav? Are you okay?”
“Rodolfo, you said? That’s his name?” My voice lifts with intrigue and eagerness.
“Yes,” he replies, still puzzled by my sudden shift in mood.
I take a deep breath and pull him close, feeling like he’s an inseparable part of me. “You’re my everything, Hux. I get it. You needed time to figure things out before sharing everything. I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner. Everything is on the table now, and my feelings haven’t changed. I love you. What you value, I value too. So please, bring him home, to our home.”
“You don’t know how much that means to me,” he murmurs. “But it’s a huge commitment, Sav. Don’t do it just for me.”
“We’ll do this together,” I assert.
He nods, a grin tugging at his lips. “I don’t mean to be an ungrateful student, but I think I’m ready to graduate from those lessons. This is the real deal. You’ve helped me reconcile with my past. I don’t have to hold back anymore, afraid I might hurt you.”
“Every mentor eventually lets go of their student,” I reply. “Even if the student is a slow learner.”
His response is a kiss, a release of all the tension and burden he’s been carrying. We share a moment filled with sobs of joy, our embrace firmer than ever.
He gives me a lopsided smile. “Just a heads up, he’s quite a handful. Grew up in hiding, so not many friends.”
I tap him on the chest. “We won’t be doing this alone, Hux. We’ll raise him to be a good man, just like you,” I say. “And my dad—oh, boy, he’s got zero tolerance for mischief.”
He chuckles, visibly relieved. “Thank you.”
Leaning in, I lower my voice to a raspy whisper, “And if you’re looking way into the future, maybe Rodolfo will have some siblings to keep him on his toes?” I trace a finger just above his belt buckle.
His smile widens, eyes sparkling with naughty specks. “I’ve been thinking about that for a while now, Sav.”
After another fleeting kiss, my heart swells with a mix of joy and apprehension. He’s about to embark on a dangerous mission, yet here we are, dreaming of our future, filled with love, laughter, and the promise of a bustling, lively home.
“So, brace yourself, Hux,” I rib, “you might come home to more than you bargained for!”
He laughs, the sound rich and full of hope. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”