The simple gesture steadies me. "Together," I agree.
My father opens the door before we reach it, face set in the hard lines that have intimidated criminals for decades. But I'm not a criminal. I'm his daughter, making my own choices.
"Finally." He steps back to let us in. "We've been waiting."
The "we" becomes clear as we enter the living room. Brett sits on our couch, looking uncomfortable but determined.
"What is he doing here?" I demand, dropping Colt's hand to confront my father.
"Savannah." Brett stands, eyes pleading. "Just hear me out."
"There's nothing to hear." I turn to my father. "Why would you involve him in this?"
"Because he cares about you." Dad's voice is clipped. "Unlike some people in this room."
Colt crosses his arms, unimpressed. "Trying to sabotage our relationship won't change anything, Sheriff."
"Relationship?" Brett scoffs. "You've known each other what, four days? This isn't a relationship, it's a mistake."
"Three months," I correct automatically, remembering our cover story. "We've been seeing each other for three months."
Brett's eyes widen. "What? That's not possible. We were together until three days ago."
I wince at the slip. Colt steps in smoothly, arm sliding around my waist. "Savannah was trying to find the right time to tell you. Things between us happened... unexpectedly."
The implication hangs in the air. That I'd been cheating on Brett. With Colt. It's not true, but it might be the simplest explanation for our sudden engagement.
"You cheated on me?" Brett looks gutted. "With him?"
"I never physically cheated," I clarify, which is technically true. "But emotionally... I wasn't where I should have been in our relationship."
My father looks between us, suspicion clear in his narrowed eyes. "This doesn't add up, Savannah. You expect me to believe you've been secretly seeing this man for months?"
"Believe what you want." I lift my chin. "I'm marrying Colt in two weeks. We've already set the date."
"Two weeks?" Both men shout in unison.
"Courthouse ceremony," Colt adds, his calm confidence a stark contrast to their outrage. "Nothing fancy."
"This is insanity." My father runs a hand over his face. "Savannah, think about what you're doing."
"I have thought about it." I lean into Colt's side, drawing strength from his solid presence. "I've never been more certain of anything."
Brett stands, anger replacing his initial hurt. "You'll regret this. When the excitement wears off and you realize what you've thrown away for... for this criminal."
"That's enough." Colt's voice drops to a dangerous rumble. "You had your chance with her. You didn't appreciate what you had. Your loss. My gain."
The possessive declaration sends a thrill through me that I try to suppress. This is an act, I remind myself. A performance for our audience.
"I want my things," I tell my father, breaking the tense standoff. "I'm moving in with Colt officially today."
"Fine." Dad gestures toward the stairs. "Pack your stuff. But don't come crying to me when this all falls apart."
I head upstairs, Colt following close behind. Once in my childhood bedroom, door firmly shut, I release a shaky breath.
"That went well," Colt says dryly, looking around at the pink walls and stuffed animals with amusement. "Nice room."
"Shut up, and help me pack." But there's no heat in it. "It’s my childhood room, I just store stuff here because I have a roommate and my room is too small."
