Page 39

One year later

The sunlight hovers at the horizon, stretching long, golden rays across Flathead Lake, painting the water in strokes of amber and violet. The air is alive with the scent of wildflowers and the murmur of the lake lapping against the shore.

I stand at the water’s edge, my bare feet brushing against petals scattered in my path—a trail of pink roses and blush-colored blooms that leads to a life I could have never imagined, but one I fought for with every piece of me.

The bouquet in my hands feels steady despite the tremor of anticipation. Pale roses glow against the silky white of my gown. The bustier hugs me as though it was crafted for this moment—simple yet timeless—while the skirt flows in gentle waves, brushing against my feet.

Ahead of me, Ivy Connor corrals the flower kids: her adorable twins and little Laramie, toddling along with petals in hand. Their efforts leave a beautifully uneven sprinkle of flowers in their wake—joyful and endearing, just like them.

At my side, Mark Connor waits to walk me down the aisle. He’s not old enough to be my dad, but his steady hand has been a constant through all the ups and downs that brought me here.

“Last chance to back out,” Mark teases, his grin a mix of mischief and affection. The Red Mark founder looks surprisingly at ease in his casual attire, perfectly in tune with the laid-back vibe we’ve chosen for this wedding.

“I left him once. I’ll never do that again,” I reply without hesitation.

“Good. I don’t think I could handle Chase moping around. Someone’s got to run HQ in Bozeman.” His humor earns a soft laugh from me. Then his tone shifts, light but sincere. “You look stunning, by the way.”

I shoot him a glance, one part gratitude, one part humility.

The strum of a guitar grows stronger as we approach the altar. Best man Huxley shifts on his feet, looking more nervous than anyone else in the groom’s party. Next to him is Oakley. His shirt is crinkled in places, but he holds his charm like a pro. Ethan, dressed in the same ensemble but far tidier, still manages to pull off a secret agent vibe thanks to those ever-present sunglasses. For all I know, they could double as a lie detector or beam messages to space.

And then there’s Chase. Forget polished suits. Today, he’s a groom made for romance. That loose ivory linen shirt, open at the collar, paired with casual wedding pants that skim the sand, transforms him into a different kind of handsome. Add devastatingly sexy to the mix, with his thick, wavy hair catching the breeze, giving him the look of an unintentional hero.

It’s more than just clothes and hair, though. It’s the way he’s looking at me right now, like I’m his entire world, the only thing that truly matters. For a man who’s been through hell, who’s faced danger and loss and somehow come out stronger, this moment—this look—feels like coming home.

I’m almost at the end of the petal-strewn path, the hem of my dress whispering against the ground.

My father’s absence tugs at me for a brief, bittersweet moment, but then I catch Chase’s eye again, and the ache fades. He’s waiting for me. He always has been.

When I reach him, he takes my hand, his grip steady, warm. “How on earth are you standing here with me, Honor?” he murmurs. “See, I keep doing the right thing when I’m with you.”

The altar, framed by driftwood and blooms, feels like a portal, not just to marriage but to something unbreakable.

The officiant begins, but I barely hear the words, my focus entirely on Chase. When it’s time for the vows, he speaks first.

“Honor,” he begins, his eyes holding mine. “When we met, I was sure the universe had made some mistake—twice over.” He pauses, his gaze deepening, and I know exactly what he means.

We promised never to speak of Kalispell thirteen years ago, but in this moment, it’s there between us. Sacred, guarded by our souls. The guests might hear poetry, but only we know the weight of it.

He takes a breath and continues, “Then you came back into my life, proving me wrong in ways only you could—stubborn and unapologetically you. Laramie, that little sweetheart, probably saw this moment coming before either of us did. I promise to keep fighting for you, for Oakley, for all of us, because that’s what you’ve taught me: how to fight for what matters.”

He slides the ring onto my finger, then lifts my hands to his shoulders, guiding me closer until my arms naturally loop around his neck. The gesture isn’t lost on me. That ridiculous dance we shared at the western bar, the one where I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me upright, laughing the whole time.

Finally, he says, “Honor, I love you. Always have, always will.”

I hold on to him, my fingers curling against the back of his neck. The ring I’m supposed to give him can wait.

“Chase,” I say. “When my world fell apart, I boxed myself in. I thought that was safety, that it was the only way to survive. Then you came along, and you didn’t just break down my walls. You showed me I didn’t need them in the first place.

“Our journey has been a wild roller coaster—highs that stole my breath and lows that tested my strength. But through it all, you’ve been my steady track, pulling me back to solid ground every time. You give without expecting anything back, love without limits. Now it’s my turn to match that same honesty and selflessness—to love you with everything I am, flaws and all.”

The tears in Chase’s eyes mirror my own. Slowly, I release my hold on him and slide the ring onto his finger, solidifying the promise between us.

Then, as planned, we crouch beside the glass jar, its rim adorned with a band of silver. With two smaller jars in hand—mine and his—we pour lake sand together, blending the grains until they’re inseparable. A simple act, yet it feels monumental.

The officiant declares us husband and wife, but it’s Chase who seals it, pulling me into his arms and pressing his lips to mine. The cheers from the guests blur into the background as his warmth anchors me to this moment, to him.

The sky cradles the last ember of the sun, its light spilling across the lake. The bonfire crackles to life, its warm glow dancing on the rippling water. I sit close to Chase, Laramie sleeping in my arms. Oakley is having a dance-off with Ethan and Noah. Around us, laughter and music swirl in the air. Ivy’s twins chase each other in circles, their giggles like wind through chimes.

Chase leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “You know what I’ve realized?” he murmurs, his voice low but carrying the weight of something profound.

“What?” I ask, tilting my head to meet his gaze.

“For the first time in forever, I’m not looking over my shoulder. I’m not waiting for the next fight, the next storm. With you, I’m just… here.”

I let my head rest on his shoulder, the moment wrapping around us.

Slowly I turn to the lake. It’s dark, but I know Mom and Dad are there in spirit. I can hear Dad’s voice in the wind, thanking Chase for saving his little girl—if only he could hear it. And me, I thank this remarkable man for what he’s done for me and my little girl.

As I watch the flames dance, a thought takes root. My collection of boxes. The cartons have crumpled and torn, tossed away somewhere they’ll never be seen. My life and Chase’s life are one, along with Laramie and Oakley.

I’m free.

* * *

Thank you for reading Her Remarkable Protector . I hope you loved Chase and Honor’s story.