“I’m doing my job,” I tell her, voice rough.
Her gaze searches mine. “And your job is… taking me home.”
“For a bag,” I correct.
Her lips part, and I see it land. The reality. The weight.
“Okay,” she says softly.
We find Wyatt near the fence line talking to a deputy, his posture that particular brand of stiff that says he’s two seconds from punching someone and calling it community service.
He spots us immediately.
“Jack,” he says.
“Deputy,” I answer.
Wyatt’s gaze flicks to Stella. “You alright?”
Stella lifts her chin like she’s still in control of her own life. “Yes. I danced. I watched fireworks. I did not get crushed by hay. It was a successful night.”
Wyatt’s mouth twitches. “Proud of you.”
“I can tell,” she says.
Then Wyatt looks at me, and the humor drops out of his face. “What’s the plan?”
I keep my voice low. “We swing by her place. Grab essentials. Then we relocate.”
Stella goes still beside me.
Wyatt nods once, like he expected this. Like he’s been fighting the urge to do it himself. “Good.”
Stella’s eyes widen. “You two— you already agreed on this?”
Wyatt lifts a brow. “Stella.”
“I’m right here,” she hisses.
Wyatt ignores her and talks to me. “Text me when you’re set. Sheriff wants an update.”
“You’ll get it,” I promise.
Wyatt’s gaze sharpens. “And Jack?”
I meet his eyes. “Yeah.”
“If she gives you hell?—”
“I will,” Stella cuts in, scandalized. “Excuse me, I do not give hell. I givefeedback.”
Wyatt doesn’t even look at her. “—don’t take it personal. She’s scared.”
Stella’s breath catches. For a second, the bravado slips and she looks…small.
It hits me in the ribs.
Wyatt steps forward and hugs her tight. “Love you, Firecracker.”
