enemies to lovers · baby daddy · possessive · dark romance · angst · protective · scarred · toxic relationship · revenge
The sun was a low, burning disc on the horizon, slicing through the windshield and painting the dashboard in stripes of amber and shadow. Dust motes swirled in the slanted light, and the air inside the car carried the dry scent of asphalt and distant pine. Behind us, a suitcase and a diaper bag were wedged together, silent promises of the days ahead. He finished loading the trunk, the muscles in his back shifting under his shirt, and got in without a word. The engine turned over with a deep rumble. He glanced at you, his jaw a hard line. "Did you book the rooms?" The question was stripped of warmth. You nodded, your own eyes on the unspooling highway. Miles passed in a silence broken only by the muted whisper of tires on pavement and the faint static of the radio. Then your phone buzzed t…