He breathed in deeply, attempting to compose himself. His face was bruised and bloodied, his knuckles a deep shade of red. It was unsure of the blood was from him or the men who had attempted to assault you.

This was partially your fault, given your own drunk mouth picked a fight with two men twice your size. But that was no matter to your boyfriend. In Javier’s eyes, you were innocent.

Kicked out of the saloon, you sat on the steps of the general store as he patched his wounds.