He nodded, pinching his lips together. After taking a breath, he said, “You know we love children, son. Just a warning though, you might have a missing baby if you aren’t careful.”
I nodded.
“Yes, you two will have to bring her back here often.” dad remarked.
“I’d like that, Dad.”
As soon as I went in, I could tell Savannah and Mom were going to get along beautifully. They were laughing in the kitchen. Dad and I could hear them.
Inside, the scent of something savory wafted from the kitchen. Savannah laughed nervously at a joke Lois cracked, and I was surprised, it sounded genuine. She hadn’t laughed like that in months.
After dinner, I led them out to the barn, excited to show Alana and Savannah what made this place so special to me. The soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet and the cool evening air werecomforting in a way I’d grown up taking for granted. Now, seeing it all through their eyes, I realized just how magical this place could be.
Alana stuck close to her mom as we walked into the barn. Her wide eyes darted around, taking in the tall wooden beams and the rows of stalls. The scent of fresh hay and animals hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of saddle leather and the earthy undertones of the land.
“Big,” Alana whispered, stopping in her tracks when she spotted Daisy, one of the horses, leaning her head over the stall gate.
I crouched down beside her, keeping my voice low and steady. “She’s big, but she’s gentle. This is Daisy. She loves meeting new people. Want to say hello?”
Alana looked up at Savannah, her little face scrunched with uncertainty. Savannah knelt beside her, brushing a hand over her hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s right here.”
Alana took a small step forward but still clung tightly to Savannah’s hand. I reached out slowly, stroking Daisy’s muzzle, and the horse responded with a soft nicker, her ears swiveling toward me.
“See?” I said, glancing at Alana with a smile. “She just wants to say hi. She’s really soft—wanna feel?”
Hesitating for a moment, Alana finally extended her tiny hand, her fingers brushing against Daisy’s nose. Her eyes lit up instantly, and a giggle escaped her lips. “Soft!” she squealed, looking back at Savannah and then at me as if to confirm the discovery.
“That’s right,” I said, grinning. “Horses have the softest noses. Wanna pet her some more?”
From that moment, Alana was fearless. She darted from Daisy to the goats in the next pen, squealing with delight when one letout a bleat. She crouched down, giggling as a chicken clucked and strutted by her tiny shoes.
When a curious goat nudged at the hem of her dress, she screamed—not in fear but in surprise—before running back to Savannah, her face flushed and glowing.
“She’s loving this,” Savannah said, her voice soft and full of wonder.
“She’s a natural,” I replied, my chest tightening in the best way possible. Watching Alana like this—unburdened, carefree—made me think of how different her life could be.How different our lives could be.
As I watched Alana chatter excitedly to a small flock of chickens, I couldn’t help but take in the scene around us. The barn, with its worn wooden beams and the golden glow of the evening sun slanting through the windows, had always been my safe haven growing up. The smells of hay, leather, and the musk of animals were so familiar to me they felt like a second skin.
Looking at Savannah, I hoped she could feel that same sense of safety. She was standing by the gate, her arms resting on the top rail as she watched Alana with a faint smile on her face. The tension she usually carried in her shoulders had softened, and for once, there wasn’t a trace of fear in her eyes.
I wanted her to see what I saw. This wasn’t just a farm; it was a fortress. The rolling pastures, the sturdy barn, the fields bordered by thick woods—it all felt like a shield against the chaos outside. And my parents? They were the kind of people who’d lay down everything to protect those they cared about.
Savannah turned, catching my gaze, and for a moment, I saw the tiniest glimmer of hope in her expression. It hit me like a punch to the chest. This was what she and Alana needed: a place to breathe, to heal, to feel safe.
I wasn’t going to let anything take that away from them.
Later that night, after Alana fell asleep, I took Savannah back to her house, she needed to grab more of Alana’s clothes and toys. She thought Alana was safer here than at her home. Just a few things to make her feel more at home here. But the thought of going back filled her with dread—there was no telling who might be watching.
Chapter Seventeen
Savannah
It was late, we both had a long day and were tired. I decided to stay the night at my place and return early the next morning.
I woke to the sharp sting of smoke clawing at my throat and nose, its acrid bitterness choking me before I even opened my eyes. The smoke clawed not just at my throat but at my mind, dragging me out of sleep like icy fingers wrapped around my neck.
My chest was tight, each breath a knife scraping against raw lungs. The darkness in the room wasn’t just from the night—it was thick, alive, pressing down on me with an oppressive weight.
