Summer
It is ten when the morning rush finally slows enough for me to check on Mia, who is coloring in the corner with Grace.
They are making Christmas ornaments to put on the tables next week.
I turn and find Ethan standing beside them, watching me with that dimpled smirk that drags last night straight back into my chest. Warmth spreads through me.
The bell above the shop door jingles. I turn.
And my stomach drops.
I freeze.
Kevin.
He never responded to the message I sent yesterday.
Did he decide to show up instead?
My heart pounds like a drum, nerves snapping awake all at once.
“Daddy!” Mia squeals, running to him and wrapping her little arms around his leg.
He barely pats her head. “Mia.” Then he looks at me, smug smile, hands in his pockets.
No. I know that look.
He is not here for her.
His daughter, who he has not seen for months, is right there, and he cannot even pretend to care. My blood boils.
She deserves so much better than this.
And I know instantly that my parents put him up to something.
“Summer,” he says, voice smooth, too casual.
A hand lands on my shoulder. Ethan steps behind me, eyes locked on Kevin like he is looking at trash.
Grace comes over to Mia. “Hey, princess, want to decorate Christmas cookies with me in the kitchen?”
Mia looks at her dad, waiting for him to notice her.
“Daddy, do you want to come with me?” she asks hopefully.
“Not now, Mia.” Kevin pulls her hand off his designer pants without even glancing at her. “Go with her.”
He turns back to me. My heart cracks wide open for my daughter.
As soon as Grace and Mia slip behind the kitchen doors, I face him fully.
“What do you want?”
“I am here to take you home,” he says. “Now.”
I laugh, sharp and incredulous. “I am not going anywhere with you.”
His eyes narrow. He steps in close, and before I can move, his fingers clamp around my wrist, hard. Pain shoots up my arm.
“Get your hands off her. Now.”
Ethan moves, body sliding between us, but Kevin does not let go. He looks Ethan up and down, then sneers at me.
“So what, you are whoring yourself out to some cowboy just to get some?”
His words slice through me.
“I would rather whore myself out to him than ever go back to you,” I spit. “And do not you dare speak about him like that.”
I let him see every ounce of disgust I feel.
“You are worth less than the dirt on his boots after he shovels manure all day.”
Kevin’s grip tightens until I cry out. “Kevin, let go!” I try to pull free, but pain shoots up my arm.
“I said let go of her.”
Ethan’s voice is calm. Controlled. Lethal.
Time seems to slow around him. His jaw locked, eyes gone dark, fists curling. I have never seen him like this.
Kevin scoffs. “Mind your own business.” He yanks me harder.
Ethan snaps.
His fist connects with Kevin’s face, clean and brutal. The crack echoes through the small shop.
Kevin finally releases me, stumbling back with a hand to his lip as blood blooms across it.
I am shaking, knees weak.
Ethan does not even glance at him.
He turns straight to me.
“Summer.” His hands hover before touching me, checking for injuries without crowding. “Sweetheart, did he hurt you? Let me see your wrist.”
I am shaking too hard to speak.
He gently takes my arm, his touch warm and steady. “Breathe,” he whispers. “You are safe. I have got you.”
No one has ever fought for me this fast, this fiercely.
It feels like a vow.
Behind us, Kevin groans, pushing himself upright.
Ethan wraps an arm around my back, pulling me close before finally acknowledging him.
“Touch her again,” he says quietly, deadly,
“and you will answer to a hell I have seen up close.”
But his hands on me stay soft, so gentle it undoes me.
Kevin stands and smirks like this is some kind of game. He pulls folded papers from his coat and shoves them toward me.
“You have twenty-four hours, Summer. One day to come home, or your parents and I will file for custody of Mia.”
His tone is bored. Like he is giving a weather report.
I stare at the papers, chest tight, breath stuck somewhere between my ribs and throat.
Ethan’s arm tightens around me, heat pouring off him in waves, his eyes never leaving Kevin until he is out the door.
“Baby,” he murmurs, voice low but still edged with a growl. “Are you okay? Let me see your wrist.”
I shake my head, barely breathing. “What if they take Mia from me?” My voice cracks and then breaks completely. I start crying.
Ethan cups my face, forcing my eyes to his. “Breathe, baby. In for six, out for four.”
I do what he says. My pulse slows by a thread, anchored by him.
“He will never get to her, not while I am breathing,” Ethan says, voice softer now but fierce beneath it.
I shake my head. Panic claws up my throat. “You do not understand. They have the best lawyers. They... I cannot... oh God, Mia.” I break, sobbing. Ethan pulls me into him, holding me tight.
“No, baby. No one is taking you or your little girl from me. I promise.” He kisses the tears off my cheeks.
The bell above the door jingles. Cas and Chris rush inside.
“What happened?” Cas asks, scanning the shop. “Grace called me.” He looks from Ethan to me.
Ethan hands him the papers. Cas reads them, then gently takes my wrist, careful of the bruise forming.
“Baby,” Ethan murmurs, “you need to tell Cas everything and file a restraining order against your ex-husband.”
I stare at them, stunned. “A restraining order?”
“It will help with custody if the judge sees Kevin is violent,” Cas says.
“I cannot lose her,” I whisper.
“You will not,” Ethan promises.
And this time, I believe him.