Page 18 of Road Trip With Her Daddy Protector

Tyler is loaded into a cruiser, head bandaged, eyes filled with venom. I meet his stare one last time—and feel nothing but gratitude for the man beside me.

Gus squeezes my fingers. “It’s done.” He reaches into his pocket, draws out the velvet box now streaked with his blood. “Time to talk about after.”

Tears spill freely. “Yes,” I whisper. “After.”

The mountains stand silent witness as he slides the ring onto my finger, its diamond catching the flashing lights and turning them into stars.

For the first time since the night everything fell apart, I’m not running. I’m exactly where I belong—safe in the arms of the man who would move mountains, set traps, and bleed for me.

And together, we watch Tyler Cole disappear into the dark, unable to touch us ever again.

10

Gus

Dawn creeps soft and gold over Saddleback, Tennessee, brushing the porch rail with light the color of honey. Lola and I sit side by side on the steps, wrapped in a single blanket. The deputies cleared out before sunrise, Tyler’s cruiser taillights swallowed by the switchbacks below, and the hush they left behind is as deep as snowfall.

Yet Lola hasn’t said more than three words since I strapped the last sensor back onto its post and re-armed the cabin. Her fingers trace the diamond on her hand; her eyes stay fixed on the horizon.

I clear my throat. “Painkillers kickin’ in?” The graze on my ribs burns, but nothing compared to the ache of her silence.

“They’re fine,” she answers, voice quiet. Another beat passes before she turns. “Did you plan this from the beginning, Gus? Lure Tyler here so you could finish it on your terms?”

The question hangs between us, sharp as broken glass. I inhale, steady. “Yes.”

Her breath catches, equal parts hurt and relief. “When?”

“Back in Florida—after the night he left the first threat on your windshield. I knew he wouldn’t stop. I also knew the only place I could guarantee your safety was my turf.” I drag a palm over my face. “Every step… the trip lines, the fake paper trail, even the single-bed motel rooms—I was pushing him toward this ridge.”

She closes her eyes, shoulders lifting on a slow inhale. “You used me as bait.”

The truth tastes like rust. “I used myself as much as you. And I hate that it hurt you.” I turn fully, cupping her jaw with bandaged fingers. “I love you, Lola Grace Bennett. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the fear I put in your eyes.”

Tears spill over, glimmering. “I was terrified… but I never doubted you’d come back.”

A shaky laugh escapes me. “Stubborn faith.”

“Stubborn love,” she corrects, sliding onto my lap, knees bracketing my hips. She tangles her fingers in my hair, studying me with a seriousness that steals my breath. “Promise me no more secrets.”

“Scout’s honor,” I vow, pressing my palm over her heart. “From here on, it’s just us. No enemies. No running.”

She leans in, brushing her mouth over mine. The kiss is gentle at first, tasting of morning coffee and unshed tears, but it deepens quickly—weeks of tension melting into heat. Her soft sigh against my lips sparks every protective, possessive instinct in my body.

I rise, lifting her effortlessly. She squeals, laughter brightening the quiet woods as I carry her across the threshold—the one tradition I’ve been dying to fulfill.

Inside, the cabin is ours again, shadows chased away by sunbeams spilling through the high windows. I set her on the kitchen counter, hands sliding beneath her borrowed flannel shirt to find warm, silky skin.

“Gus,” she whispers, pupils dark and blown wide. “Marry me today.”

My heart slams. “I was going to wait—give you ceremony, flowers?—”

She hooks her heels behind my back, pulling me closer. “All I need is you, a promise, and these mountains.”

I’m powerless against that smile. I press feather-light kisses along her jaw, her throat, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my lips. “Then today it is.”

We stumble down the hall, trading kisses like secrets. Clothes trail behind us—a shirt here, a pair of leggings there—until the bedroom door thumps shut. Morning light washes the quilts in gold as I lay her gently across them.

“I love you,” she says, voice trembling with joy.

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