Page 7
Story: Her Protector on Route 14
“I’m going to show you the best view,” he says, voice low and certain. My heart slams against my ribs, the camera suddenly forgotten.
No matter what I think or feel, I don’t think it’s possible to be ready for this man or his hidden warmth. When I realize he’s charging forward with purpose, I laugh. He slows his pace and glances at me with an eyebrow raised.
“You’re a man on a mission ... in a park,” I tease before giggling again.
“I’m determined,” he explains.
“Constantly, I know, but we can enjoy the moment, unless ...” I trail off and doubt threatens to open a trap door into insecurity. “Unless you have somewhere else more interesting to be.”
“I don’t, Holly,” he says, his voice lingering on my name in a way that makes my chest squeeze.
I squeeze his hand and slow our pace. “Then why don’t we savor this? We’re both out of our cars, without a time limit. Let’s enjoy it.”
He watches me a moment longer. “Are you saying you haven’t been enjoying our time together?”
“Isn’t it obvious that I have been?”
“You’re constantly up beat and optimistic, it’s hard for me to believe you’d ever admit to not having a good time,” he says.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“It’s not a bad thing, I just don’t want to assume with you,” he clarifies. “Now, let’s go, the bridge is safe.”
He leads me to a narrow, rickety-looking bridge that stretches over a shallow creek. It looks questionable at best—thin, weathered wood and just enough sway to make me hesitate.
But it held Tanner’s weight, and Tanner’s already made it very clear he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. So I follow, placing my steps where his just were, trusting him more than I probably should.
At the center, he pauses and motions behind us. “Look.”
I turn, raise my camera, and snap the shot. The view is stunning—sunlight cutting through the trees, the winding creek below, a stillness that feels almost sacred.
“What’s made you so quiet?” he asks after a beat. “That focused on the birds?”
“Theyarelovely,” I say, stepping off the trail and leaning gently against a large oak tree. “Even if they keep hiding in the leaves.”
“Holly,” Tanner says, his tone shifting as he steps closer “Tell me.”
I curl a lock of hair around my finger. “I know that I can be a little much sometimes. My dad says I’m constantly overcompensating. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
Tanner’s brow furrows.
Clearing my throat, I glance around like I’m about to tell him the world’s biggest secret and take a slow breath. “I feel like I’m not enough unless I’m making other people happy. It’s not enough to simply exist. I always worry I’m just the ... extra person, a burden unless I have something to add which ...”
He takes another step towards me.
“It means I talk too much and overshare sometimes, I suppose. If I’m too quiet, I’m afraid I’ll be overlooked or people will realize I’m not living up to the potential that everyone said I had when I was younger. If I talk too much .. at least I know what criticism to expect from others,” I explain.
Tanner’s lips turn down and he moves closer to me, resting his back against the same oak I am, his arm brushing mine as his fingers purposely play with mine. “Anyone who says you’re too much is too used to being around lesser people.”
I look up at him and prepare my argument, but he continues, “You’re more than enough, exactly as you are. Vibrant, genuinely kind, and open to new experiences. That’s ... astounding in the world we live in.”
“You’re the kind one. You’ve taken me to all these wonderful places, you keep going out of your way for me even though you have no reason to. And doing that after choosing a job that keeps you in solitude ...” I trail off, then turn towards him. “Why did you choose this job?”
He turns to face me as well and searches my face for something before very gently touching my cheek so close to my lip that I’m tempted to turn and run my lips over his fingers.
“I like solitude,” he murmurs. “When you get used to being alone, losing someone doesn’t hurt as much.”
“Tanner,” I breathe.
No matter what I think or feel, I don’t think it’s possible to be ready for this man or his hidden warmth. When I realize he’s charging forward with purpose, I laugh. He slows his pace and glances at me with an eyebrow raised.
“You’re a man on a mission ... in a park,” I tease before giggling again.
“I’m determined,” he explains.
“Constantly, I know, but we can enjoy the moment, unless ...” I trail off and doubt threatens to open a trap door into insecurity. “Unless you have somewhere else more interesting to be.”
“I don’t, Holly,” he says, his voice lingering on my name in a way that makes my chest squeeze.
I squeeze his hand and slow our pace. “Then why don’t we savor this? We’re both out of our cars, without a time limit. Let’s enjoy it.”
He watches me a moment longer. “Are you saying you haven’t been enjoying our time together?”
“Isn’t it obvious that I have been?”
“You’re constantly up beat and optimistic, it’s hard for me to believe you’d ever admit to not having a good time,” he says.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“It’s not a bad thing, I just don’t want to assume with you,” he clarifies. “Now, let’s go, the bridge is safe.”
He leads me to a narrow, rickety-looking bridge that stretches over a shallow creek. It looks questionable at best—thin, weathered wood and just enough sway to make me hesitate.
But it held Tanner’s weight, and Tanner’s already made it very clear he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. So I follow, placing my steps where his just were, trusting him more than I probably should.
At the center, he pauses and motions behind us. “Look.”
I turn, raise my camera, and snap the shot. The view is stunning—sunlight cutting through the trees, the winding creek below, a stillness that feels almost sacred.
“What’s made you so quiet?” he asks after a beat. “That focused on the birds?”
“Theyarelovely,” I say, stepping off the trail and leaning gently against a large oak tree. “Even if they keep hiding in the leaves.”
“Holly,” Tanner says, his tone shifting as he steps closer “Tell me.”
I curl a lock of hair around my finger. “I know that I can be a little much sometimes. My dad says I’m constantly overcompensating. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
Tanner’s brow furrows.
Clearing my throat, I glance around like I’m about to tell him the world’s biggest secret and take a slow breath. “I feel like I’m not enough unless I’m making other people happy. It’s not enough to simply exist. I always worry I’m just the ... extra person, a burden unless I have something to add which ...”
He takes another step towards me.
“It means I talk too much and overshare sometimes, I suppose. If I’m too quiet, I’m afraid I’ll be overlooked or people will realize I’m not living up to the potential that everyone said I had when I was younger. If I talk too much .. at least I know what criticism to expect from others,” I explain.
Tanner’s lips turn down and he moves closer to me, resting his back against the same oak I am, his arm brushing mine as his fingers purposely play with mine. “Anyone who says you’re too much is too used to being around lesser people.”
I look up at him and prepare my argument, but he continues, “You’re more than enough, exactly as you are. Vibrant, genuinely kind, and open to new experiences. That’s ... astounding in the world we live in.”
“You’re the kind one. You’ve taken me to all these wonderful places, you keep going out of your way for me even though you have no reason to. And doing that after choosing a job that keeps you in solitude ...” I trail off, then turn towards him. “Why did you choose this job?”
He turns to face me as well and searches my face for something before very gently touching my cheek so close to my lip that I’m tempted to turn and run my lips over his fingers.
“I like solitude,” he murmurs. “When you get used to being alone, losing someone doesn’t hurt as much.”
“Tanner,” I breathe.