Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Her eyes fill immediately.
“I didn’t know easy,” I continue. “Not like this. Not like coming home and knowing where I belong.”
Her bottom lip trembles.
I drop to one knee.
The world narrows to her face. She gasps softly, hands flying to her mouth. “Dixon,” she whispers.
I pull the ring from my pocket, opening the box with fingers that finally stop shaking. “I don’t want the road calling me away anymore,” I tell her. “I want you calling me home.”
Tears spill freely down her cheeks now.
“I love you,” I confess. “Not in the passing way. Not in the heat-of-the-moment way. In the stay-forever way.”
My voice breaks slightly, but I don’t look away.
“Will you marry me?”
There’s a beat.
Two.
Her hands tremble as they drop from her mouth.
“Yes,” she breathes. Then louder, through tears and laughter and pure disbelief—"Yes.”
The word hits me like sunrise. I stand, sliding the ring onto her finger.
It fits.
Of course it fits.
She throws her arms around my neck, and I lift her without thinking, spinning her once like the world finally aligned. “I can’t believe this is real,” she laughs against my shoulder.
“It’s real,” I murmur into her hair.
She pulls back, cupping my face. “This,” she replies, voice soft but sure, “this is what life should be.”
I raise a brow.
“What’s that?”
“An easy ride,” she smiles.
The phrase settles between us like something sacred.
An easy ride.
Not because it’s effortless.
But because we’re riding it together. I kiss her then—slow, sure, full of promise. When we break apart, I see Papa standing at the sliding door, watching us with a knowing smile.
He raises a hand in salute. Danae laughs through her tears and waves back.
“You told him, didn’t you?” she accuses gently.
“I asked him,” I correct.
Her eyes soften.
“You asked?”
“Yes.”
She presses her forehead to my chest. “You’re something else,” she whispers.
“No,” I correct. “I’m yours.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Always dramatic.”
“Always honest.”
We stand there for a long moment, the world quiet around us.
For years, I thought freedom meant motion.
I thought love meant intensity. I thought peace meant distance. But standing here, with her hand in mine and a ring catching the last light of the day—I finally understand.
Freedom is staying. Love is choosing. And peace is knowing the ride doesn’t have to be wild to be worth it.
The road will still exist. It always will. But it doesn’t own me anymore.
She does.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The end Until the next Ride
Ride On – Dove and Wendy coming May 25, 2026