My brother drops his pack again like he didn’t drop it hard enough the first time. “Absolutely not.”
“Wade,” I warn, but my voice is already tight because I can feel the storm coming off him.
He points at my hand like it personally offended him. “Ellie. What the hell happened?”
“A lot,” I say.
Wade’s gaze flicks around the cabin like he expects an explanation to be taped to the wall. “I’m gone for two weeks and you—” He gestures wildly between me and Wyatt. “You married him?”
Wyatt’s brows lift. “Don’t say it like it’s a tragedy.”
“Shut up,” Wade snaps.
Wyatt doesn’t blink. “No.”
I inhale slowly. “Wade, you were off grid. I couldn’t?—”
“I have a satellite—” Wade starts.
Wyatt cuts him off, calm as a guillotine. “You left it at home.”
Wade goes still. “How do you know that?”
I lift my chin. “Because I told him.”
Wade’s eyes snap to me, and for a second something else flashes there—guilt, maybe—before his anger surges back to the surface.
“So you told Wyatt but not me,” he bites out.
“I couldn’t reach you,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “I tried.”
Wade scoffs. “So your solution was to marry my best friend?”
“It was not my ‘solution,’” I snap, heat rising. “It was a decision I made because I needed help and you were not here.”
Wade’s jaw tightens. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know?”
Wyatt’s chair scrapes as he stands, tall and controlled, the room suddenly smaller with him on his feet. “You weren’t available.”
Wade whips toward him. “Don’t you dare?—”
Wyatt doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. “Look at her.”
Wade pauses, eyes flicking back to me like he has no choice.
Wyatt’s voice stays low. “You see her ring and you’re mad. You didn’t see her outside her shop with foreclosure papers on the window and nowhere to go.”
The words land hard in my chest.
Wade’s face shifts. “Foreclosure?”
My throat tightens. “Graham.”
Wade’s expression turns ugly instantly. “That asshole.”
“Yeah,” I say, bitter. “That asshole.”
Wyatt steps closer, angling his body slightly between me and Wade like he’s instinctively shielding. He doesn’t touch me—just stands there, solid, a wall I didn’t realize I’d started leaning on.
