"Wyatt, I?—"
The sound of a vehicle stopping nearby and three sharp knocks at the door shatter our moment. Wyatt frowns, pulling away from me with visible reluctance.
"Stay here," he says, rising to his feet, his shoulder tense.
"No, I'll get it." I'm already moving toward the door, tugging at the hem of Wyatt's flannel shirt that I'm wearing over sleep shorts. "It's probably just a lost hiker like me."
"Baby, let me?—"
I pull the door open, blinking in the bright morning sunlight. Two uniformed rangers stand on the porch, their expressions shifting from professional to surprised as they take in my appearance—Wyatt's oversized shirt, my bare legs, my obviously just-woke-up hair.
"Emma Carter?" asks the taller one, checking a photo on his phone.
My stomach drops. "Yes?"
"Bill?" Wyatt appears behind me, his hand coming to rest protectively on my shoulder. "Richard? What's going on?"
The rangers exchange uncomfortable glances.
"Hey, Wyatt," says the one called Bill. "Wish this was a social call."
Before either can elaborate, the rumble of an approaching vehicle cuts through the morning quiet. A truck pulls up beside the rangers' vehicle, and my blood turns to ice as my parents step out.
"Emma!" My mother rushes forward, her face a mask of panic and relief. "Oh my God, it's really you. You're alive!"
My father follows more slowly, his eyes taking in everything—my state of undress, Wyatt's protective stance, the cabin behind us.
"What is this?" I ask, my voice barely audible.
Richard, the shorter ranger, clears his throat. "Your parents filed a missing person report three days ago when you didn't return to campus. Your phone pinged near this area before going offline."
"We've been looking for you, sweetheart," my mother says, reaching for me. I step back instinctively, bumping into Wyatt'ssolid chest. "When your roommate said you'd gone hiking and never came back?—"
"I've been perfectly fine," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I got lost, panicked, and Wyatt helped me."
My father's gaze hardens as he looks at Wyatt. "And you just kept her here for nine days without letting her contact anyone?"
Wyatt's hand tightens slightly on my shoulder. "Emma has been free to leave whenever she wanted. I offered to take her back to town the first morning."
"He did," I say quickly. "I chose to stay."
My mother's eyes widen in horror. "Emma, look at yourself! This man is … he's?—"
She gestures helplessly at Wyatt, at his size, his beard, the scar on his face.
"He's scary, honey. Did he threaten you? Make you stay? Did he force himself on you? It's okay. You can tell us."
The accusation ignites something fierce inside me. "No! Wyatt helped me when I was lost and terrified. He's been nothing but kind and respectful."
"Kind?" My father's voice rises. "You've been missing for over a week! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped!"
"I'm an adult," I say, straightening my spine. "I chose to stay."
Bill shifts uncomfortably. "Wyatt, it's fine. I know you wouldn't?—"
"You don't know what he would do." My mother glares at him. "You don't know what he's done to my daughter."
"He hasn't done anything to me!" My voice cracks with emotion.
