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Story: Her Protector on Route 14
Chapter 1 - Holly
Route 14 is even more breathtaking than the pictures promised. Rolling hills stretch endlessly into the horizon, and quaint little towns sit so close to the road it feels like I could slip into them for a heartbeat before they vanish in the rearview mirror. The sunsets—soft gold pouring behind dense tree lines—feel like inhaling deeply after being underwater for too long.
By day, it’s rugged and wild. By night, pitch black, letting the stars blaze across the sky like diamonds scattered on velvet. Every so often, the landscape yields to a flicker of human life—small, subtle, and respectful of the land it shares.
It’s wild, untouched beauty. The kind I could lose myself in for years, photographing every inch and still not capturing its soul.
And it’s that beauty I try to focus on… while I stand in the heat, fanning myself next to a car that’s decided now is the perfect time to break down.
I’m halfway between Saddleback and Heartstone, stranded on a stretch of desolate highway as the sun sinks lower, bleeding color into the sky. Normally, I’d lose myself in the beauty of it—the shifting shades, the quiet drama of dusk—butit’s hard to enjoy the view when the heat feels like it's wringing the breath out of me.
My water’s long gone. I’ve tied my reddish-brown shirt just under my breasts and twisted my dark hair into a knot on top of my head, anything for a bit of relief. If I had scissors, I would’ve turned these jeans into shorts thirty minutes ago—right around the time I admitted that I can’t fix a steaming engine with wishful thinking and pep talks.
Now I’m fanning myself with a travel guide, stealing glances at my car and praying my camera isn’t overheating inside. As long as the camera’s okay… everything else can wait. One problem at a time.
Traffic has thinned out, and with it, so has my sense of calm. I haven’t seen another car in ages, and my phone is still stubbornly dead: no bars, no hope. Every sound makes me turn my head, pulse quickening.
I know Route 14 is patrolled. Rangers drive this stretch. I read that somewhere, and I’ve been holding onto it like a prayer. One of them has to pass by. Eventually.
When I hear the low, distant rumble of an engine, my heart leaps. I scan the horizon until I spot it—a truck cresting a small hill in the distance. The deer that had just stepped into view freeze, their ears flicking toward the sound.
I snap a photo quickly, just before they bound back into the woods.
Then my eyes go to the truck. It’s slowing as it approaches.Ranger, the letters say on the side. My breath catches. Relief, sharp and sudden, washes over me.
Please let this be my break,I think as the truck pulls up behind my car. Then the door opens and the words I was goingto say get stuck in my throat. My heart races in my chest and I feel like I’m getting my first crush all over again. Butterflies take off in my belly, making me a little nauseous and every ounce of confidence I swore I just had run off along with any coherent thought.
He’s gorgeous and rugged, just like the land around us. He runs a large, thick hand over his short dark brown hair, tousling it further. His deep, steel blue eyes pin me immediately, knotting my tongue as he drinks me in. Despite his stoic face and the slight downturn of his lips, his attention wraps around me like a caress.
He’s big, muscular, and there’s something safe about being near him. He adjusts his flannel shirt, rolling it up to his elbows showing more of his tan skin and just ... wow. All of him might be no-nonsense, but he wears it so well.
He’d wear anything well or ... wearing nothing, I think while trying to calm my immediate reaction to a stranger.
I’m still trying to hear my thoughts over my racing heart when he’s standing right in front of me. My lips part, breath caught somewhere in my chest as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He’s got to be at least eight inches taller than me, all lean strength and quiet power. Hecouldbe intimidating—should be—but somehow… he’s not.
There’s something grounded about him. Solid. Like he belongs out here more than the asphalt or the road signs ever did. It’s as if the land itself carved him out of rock and pine, built him to survive—and to protect.
I shake my head and try to summon words. He clears his throat and looks past me to my open hood. “You called for a tow?”
“N-no. I don’t have service,” I say softly. “It um ... I’m Holly,” I manage to get out.
He inclines his head, taps the embroidered nametag that says “Tanner,” before rounding my vehicle to look at the engine. I follow, trying to will my mouth to work. Unlike the last tow truck driver I met, he doesn’t say much. Tanner looks over my engine, checks the coolant, check the oil, grumbles something to himself, then pulls out his phone. I should be paying attention, but I’m still caught on him—on the way his rugged good looks pair so seamlessly with that no-nonsense focus. It’s hard to wrap my head around it, the way he moves with purpose, like fixing this is just another thing he was built to do.
He looks at me while on the phone and motions to the vehicle.
I blink when I realize he’s waiting for me to say something. I clear my throat and smile the best I can manage. “It started smoking. I didn’t hear any weird noises. I had it checked before I started my drive and everything was good. I’m sure you know what’s going on better than I do and you know what it needs.”
He grunts and nods before relaying it to whoever’s on the phone, but I swear I see something brighter in his eyes.
“If only cars could talk, then I’d know exactly what it needs,” I say, laughing softly.
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, but he just looks from me to the vehicle before replacing the caps on everything he’s checked. “Twenty five? Fine.”
“I’m actually trying to get to Oakrest Bay. I’m taking pictures along the way for a travel article about Route 14. I’ve been trying to find different stops along the way and just came from Saddleback,” I continue rambling, trying to calm down andregain control over myself. I’m sure he doesn’t care, he didn’t ask, but it keeps me from staring and drooling over him.
“The tow truck is on its way.” Tanner clears his throat and nods once. “I see. A photographer.”
Four words. Four words and I feel lit up like fourth of July. The way he looks at me, like he can see my entire soul, his brooding intensity focused on me, it makes my heart skip a beat. I rub my chest and notice his eyes dip to my bare belly.
Route 14 is even more breathtaking than the pictures promised. Rolling hills stretch endlessly into the horizon, and quaint little towns sit so close to the road it feels like I could slip into them for a heartbeat before they vanish in the rearview mirror. The sunsets—soft gold pouring behind dense tree lines—feel like inhaling deeply after being underwater for too long.
By day, it’s rugged and wild. By night, pitch black, letting the stars blaze across the sky like diamonds scattered on velvet. Every so often, the landscape yields to a flicker of human life—small, subtle, and respectful of the land it shares.
It’s wild, untouched beauty. The kind I could lose myself in for years, photographing every inch and still not capturing its soul.
And it’s that beauty I try to focus on… while I stand in the heat, fanning myself next to a car that’s decided now is the perfect time to break down.
I’m halfway between Saddleback and Heartstone, stranded on a stretch of desolate highway as the sun sinks lower, bleeding color into the sky. Normally, I’d lose myself in the beauty of it—the shifting shades, the quiet drama of dusk—butit’s hard to enjoy the view when the heat feels like it's wringing the breath out of me.
My water’s long gone. I’ve tied my reddish-brown shirt just under my breasts and twisted my dark hair into a knot on top of my head, anything for a bit of relief. If I had scissors, I would’ve turned these jeans into shorts thirty minutes ago—right around the time I admitted that I can’t fix a steaming engine with wishful thinking and pep talks.
Now I’m fanning myself with a travel guide, stealing glances at my car and praying my camera isn’t overheating inside. As long as the camera’s okay… everything else can wait. One problem at a time.
Traffic has thinned out, and with it, so has my sense of calm. I haven’t seen another car in ages, and my phone is still stubbornly dead: no bars, no hope. Every sound makes me turn my head, pulse quickening.
I know Route 14 is patrolled. Rangers drive this stretch. I read that somewhere, and I’ve been holding onto it like a prayer. One of them has to pass by. Eventually.
When I hear the low, distant rumble of an engine, my heart leaps. I scan the horizon until I spot it—a truck cresting a small hill in the distance. The deer that had just stepped into view freeze, their ears flicking toward the sound.
I snap a photo quickly, just before they bound back into the woods.
Then my eyes go to the truck. It’s slowing as it approaches.Ranger, the letters say on the side. My breath catches. Relief, sharp and sudden, washes over me.
Please let this be my break,I think as the truck pulls up behind my car. Then the door opens and the words I was goingto say get stuck in my throat. My heart races in my chest and I feel like I’m getting my first crush all over again. Butterflies take off in my belly, making me a little nauseous and every ounce of confidence I swore I just had run off along with any coherent thought.
He’s gorgeous and rugged, just like the land around us. He runs a large, thick hand over his short dark brown hair, tousling it further. His deep, steel blue eyes pin me immediately, knotting my tongue as he drinks me in. Despite his stoic face and the slight downturn of his lips, his attention wraps around me like a caress.
He’s big, muscular, and there’s something safe about being near him. He adjusts his flannel shirt, rolling it up to his elbows showing more of his tan skin and just ... wow. All of him might be no-nonsense, but he wears it so well.
He’d wear anything well or ... wearing nothing, I think while trying to calm my immediate reaction to a stranger.
I’m still trying to hear my thoughts over my racing heart when he’s standing right in front of me. My lips part, breath caught somewhere in my chest as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He’s got to be at least eight inches taller than me, all lean strength and quiet power. Hecouldbe intimidating—should be—but somehow… he’s not.
There’s something grounded about him. Solid. Like he belongs out here more than the asphalt or the road signs ever did. It’s as if the land itself carved him out of rock and pine, built him to survive—and to protect.
I shake my head and try to summon words. He clears his throat and looks past me to my open hood. “You called for a tow?”
“N-no. I don’t have service,” I say softly. “It um ... I’m Holly,” I manage to get out.
He inclines his head, taps the embroidered nametag that says “Tanner,” before rounding my vehicle to look at the engine. I follow, trying to will my mouth to work. Unlike the last tow truck driver I met, he doesn’t say much. Tanner looks over my engine, checks the coolant, check the oil, grumbles something to himself, then pulls out his phone. I should be paying attention, but I’m still caught on him—on the way his rugged good looks pair so seamlessly with that no-nonsense focus. It’s hard to wrap my head around it, the way he moves with purpose, like fixing this is just another thing he was built to do.
He looks at me while on the phone and motions to the vehicle.
I blink when I realize he’s waiting for me to say something. I clear my throat and smile the best I can manage. “It started smoking. I didn’t hear any weird noises. I had it checked before I started my drive and everything was good. I’m sure you know what’s going on better than I do and you know what it needs.”
He grunts and nods before relaying it to whoever’s on the phone, but I swear I see something brighter in his eyes.
“If only cars could talk, then I’d know exactly what it needs,” I say, laughing softly.
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, but he just looks from me to the vehicle before replacing the caps on everything he’s checked. “Twenty five? Fine.”
“I’m actually trying to get to Oakrest Bay. I’m taking pictures along the way for a travel article about Route 14. I’ve been trying to find different stops along the way and just came from Saddleback,” I continue rambling, trying to calm down andregain control over myself. I’m sure he doesn’t care, he didn’t ask, but it keeps me from staring and drooling over him.
“The tow truck is on its way.” Tanner clears his throat and nods once. “I see. A photographer.”
Four words. Four words and I feel lit up like fourth of July. The way he looks at me, like he can see my entire soul, his brooding intensity focused on me, it makes my heart skip a beat. I rub my chest and notice his eyes dip to my bare belly.