Sure, she’s seen some shit.

But her dad believed in her. At least she had that. With everything that went to hell for her, she had a strong support system. So she’s got no fucking right to be complaining. My dad left me nothing but self-loathing and a broken family that I can’t fix.

He left me with emotional scars that I’ve long since buried.

When Emma tells Olivia it’s time to head in, I sense Olivia’s frustration. She doesn’t want to quit. She argues with Emma.

“But I just got this down!” She says, her face twisting up in a way that leaves me knowing tonight is going to be rough. “I need to keep practicing.”

Emma is all patience as she responds. “You’ve done so well today. You’re learning this faster than anyone I’ve taught ever has. Most people take a week to get this move perfect.” She pauses and smile as Olivia seems to calm a tiny bit. “Maybe you should be teaching my students.”

Olivia lights up and I’m left wondering how the fuck she managed to say just the right thing to calm her down. There’s an endless patience in her that I can’t help but respect. As Olivia brings it in and we head to the barn, I find myself watching Emma’s ass as she walks.

Fuck. Even the time with Jessica wasn’t enough to get me to stop thinking about Emma that way. As my cock wakes, I think about how it would feel to bend Emma over one of those saw horses she stores saddles on and press so deeply into her she screams…

Shoving the thoughts away, I stare up at the ceiling and count to ten, thinking of every unsexy thing I can.

And it hits me; I’m going about this all wrong.

Emma throws a glance at me over her shoulder and I see a new warmth there. A warmth that I’d felt while she was talking to me. She’s trusting me. She thinks that, since she’s certain I hate her, that she can open up to me. Like I can’t think less of her. Or that even if I did, it wouldn’t matter to her.

That’s just a hop, skip, and jump away from love, dear people.

What if, just what if, I find another way to get to her and her farm?

How many times has Olivia told me she wants to live on a farm? Every night since she stared these damn lessons. And I’ve blown her off every time, told her I can’t work in the middle of nowhere. That we have a home. That that kind of life isn’t for us.

As we head home, I find myself talking to Olivia as I entertain evil plans.

“You’re not even listening,” Olivia says, her tone rising to a whine.

“Sorry, baby, I wasn’t. I am now, though,” I tell her, sensing a meltdown on the horizon.

“I want to live on a farm!” She says, her voice rising to that squeal only girlfriends and dogs can hear.

“But we can’t,” I tell her, hating that this is becoming such a point of contention. I want her to talk to me, to open up about what’s eating at her, but I don’t know how to handle things like this. Things I can’t fix or change.

To my dismay, she only grows more unreasonable. “This is important to me!” She says, her voice nearing that shout that generally dissolves into tears. “You don’t even care!”

“I do care,” I tell her. “I need you to calm down, though.” I say. Instantly I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

“I hate you!” She shouts, and my jaw locks as pain lances through me. Her meltdowns are so rare I know I’m lucky. But when she has them, they’re ugly.

“That’s a really mean thing to say,” I tell her, but she’s sobbing and I know she’s not hearing me. With a sigh, I try not to let it get to me. Kids say things when they’re mad. Things they don’t mean. I’m not my dad. I’m not going to hit her for saying she hates me. Even if she really did hate me – which I don’t think she does – I still wouldn’t punish her for feeling.

I think about the time Connor told dad he hated him. Dad had been so drunk I’d managed to shove Conner out of the way. I took his beating that night. And a beating it had been. My knuckles tighten and turn white as the memory rolls over me. Dad had beat me with the buckle of his belt until he passed out drunk.

When it was over, I’d been bruised and bloody. It had left me with a scar over my right shoulder where the buckle had cut me. Connor had stared at me, his gaze an apology and thanks all in one. But he’d never said it again.

No, now he stands up for the piece of shit.

When we pull into the garage, Olivia runs from the truck and slams the door behind her. I follow more slowly, deciding to give her her space. It’s better to let her be right now, I think. I’ll give her room to breathe, to calm down, to realize that we can’t just uproot and leave. This is our home. It’s safe. It’s guarded. It’s private and the cameras make certain I’ll know if I ever need to get her out in a hurry.

Even the body guard, who keeps his distance and watches from afar, is always on guard for anything.

Because this world isn’t safe for Olivia. And I’d die to protect her. I’ll take her anger, her hate, her temper tantrums even, to keep her safe.

And I’ll do it all without ever letting her know how much danger she’s really in. She never needs to know that people are looking for her. That if they find her, everything will change. That some people want to hurt her just because of who she is. Because of me.

She’s just an innocent little girl. She doesn’t need to know how fucked up the word is.

And I’ll take anything to keep her safe. Anything.