One second I’m holding my phone like it’s the only solid thing left in the world—recording saved, hands still shaking, Levi running his mouth in the background like a siren made of sarcasm—and the next, the shop door swings open hard enough to rattle the bell.
Wyatt fills the doorway in turnout pants and a station tee, hair damp, jaw clenched, adrenaline still riding him so sharp it changes the air. He looks like he ran straight from fire to war and didn’t bother switching gears.
His eyes lock on me.
Then they lock on Graham.
And something in Wyatt’s face goes blank in the scariest way.
Not calm. Not controlled.
Empty.
Graham is near the counter with that polished smile half on his mouth, but it’s cracking now because he can feel it too—Wyatt’s heat, Wyatt’s size, Wyatt’smineenergy that doesn’t ask permission.
Wyatt doesn’t say hello.
He doesn’t ask what happened.
He just takes two long strides and plants himself between me and Graham like my body is a line no one crosses.
“You put your hands on her,” Wyatt says, voice low.
Graham lifts his palms in a practiced gesture. “I did no such thing. I asked for my property back.”
I stiffen. “I’m not your property.”
Graham’s eyes flick to me like I’m a child interrupting adults. “Ellie, sweetheart?—”
Wyatt moves again, so fast my breath catches. He closes the last foot of space and Graham’s whole posture shifts back without even thinking, his body reacting to threat before his brain can spin a story.
“Don’t,” Wyatt says. One syllable. A command with teeth.
Levi makes a noise in the corner that might be a laugh, might be a gasp. Sadie’s eyes go flat and dangerous like she’s deciding which weapon in this shop would hurt most.
Graham forces a smile back onto his face. “Wyatt, right? Firefighter hero. Congratulations on your… arrangement.”
Wyatt’s shoulders rise with a slow inhale. His hands are at his sides, but they look like they want to become fists.
“I heard about your message,” Wyatt says.
Graham’s brows lift. “Message?”
Wyatt’s gaze doesn’t flicker. “The photo.”
A muscle jumps in Graham’s jaw. The mask slips for a second—just enough for me to see irritation underneath, the way he hates being cornered, hates being watched, hates losing control.
Then he recovers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I take a step forward before I can stop myself. “You sent me a photo of myself at Wyatt’s cabin.”
Graham’s eyes land on me, and the softness in his expression is fake enough to make my stomach turn. “Ellie. You’re stressed. You’re imagining things.”
Sadie lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I hate him.”
Levi nods. “Same.”
Wyatt’s head turns slightly, just enough to look at me over his shoulder. “Phone.”
