Chapter 12
Ellie
Wyatt shows up like a storm.
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’s mine energy 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.”
I swallow. “I have it.”
“Give it to me.”
My pride flares automatically. “I’m not handing you my phone like—”
Wyatt’s voice drops. “Ellie.”
My name on his tongue is a leash. My pulse jumps. I hate it.
I also… don’t.
I pull the phone from my pocket and hold it up. “I recorded him. It’s saved. Maddie made me back it up.”
Wyatt’s gaze flashes with something like approval. “Good girl.”
Heat licks up my spine and I want to shove him. I want to kiss him. I want to throw a truffle at his head.
Maddie steps in from the side like she’s been waiting for her cue. She moves to my shoulder, calm and steady, eyes on me first. “You did it right.”
I nod, throat tight. “He tried to grab it.”
Maddie’s gaze slides to Graham like a blade. “Of course he did.”
Ethan appears in the doorway behind them, ranger jacket on, face hard. He scans the room once, then steps in like an authority figure who doesn’t need permission to occupy space.
“Graham,” he says, voice level. “We’ve got reports of harassment and trespass near a backcountry residence.”
Graham’s smile twitches. “Are you accusing me of trespassing?”
Ethan’s gaze doesn’t change. “I’m saying we have reason to believe someone’s been circling property lines and watching windows. That’s a crime.”
Graham’s eyes narrow slightly. “This is ridiculous.”
Wyatt’s voice goes flat. “Not to me.”
Graham’s gaze flicks to Wyatt’s hands like he’s calculating whether Wyatt will actually swing. Then he looks toward the front windows—toward Main Street—toward the fact that people have definitely stopped walking and started watching.
He resets. Straightens his jacket. Performs.
“Ellie is in default,” he says, louder now. “I’m here to resolve a financial matter. This man is threatening me.”
I laugh, sharp. “You threatened me.”
Graham tilts his head, all fake concern. “I warned you. There’s a difference.”
Maddie leans in toward me, voice low. “Don’t argue definitions. Stick to facts.”
I swallow. “You changed the locks. You restricted my accounts. You contacted me after I told you not to. You showed up here after Wyatt told you to leave.”
Wyatt’s body tenses at the mention of the locks, the accounts—like every detail is another match on gasoline.
Graham’s smile goes tight. “Ellie, you’re spiraling.”
Wyatt turns his head toward me again, just a fraction. “Eyes on me.”
I blink. “What?”
Wyatt’s voice stays calm, but it’s not gentle. “Look at me.”
Something about the order cuts through the noise. I lock onto him.
Wyatt’s gaze holds mine for one beat—steady, grounding—and then he turns back to Graham like he’s decided something final.
“You want to talk legal?” Wyatt says. “Fine. You can talk to the sheriff.”
Graham’s eyes harden. “You think your little town badge scares me?”
Wyatt steps in close enough that Graham’s smile finally cracks. “No,” Wyatt says. “But my patience should.”
Graham’s composure slips—just slightly. “You can’t keep her,” he snaps, and the words are sharper than he intended, too possessive, too revealing.
The shop goes quiet.
Even Levi shuts up.
Wyatt stills, and for a second I swear I can see the exact moment his restraint fractures.
His hand shoots out, grabbing Graham’s wrist—hard. Not enough to break it, but enough to make Graham suck in a breath.
My stomach drops. “Wyatt—”
Ethan steps forward instantly, voice firm. “Cooper.”
Wyatt doesn’t look away from Graham. “Say that again.”
Graham’s face goes pale for half a second, then goes red. “Get your hands off me.”
Wyatt’s eyes go cold. “Say. It. Again.”
Maddie’s hand clamps around my arm, pulling me backward, her voice steady in my ear. “I’ve got you.”
I stumble half a step into her, breath catching, and she positions herself between me and the men without hesitation. She’s small compared to them, but she feels like steel.
Sadie’s voice cuts in, sharp. “Wyatt, don’t.”
Levi mutters, “Ohhh this is about to get messy.”
Graham jerks his arm, trying to pull free. “This is assault,” he spits.
Wyatt tightens his grip. “You threatened my wife.”
Graham’s eyes flick to me over Wyatt’s shoulder, and the mask is gone now. His mouth curls. “Your wife,” he sneers. “She’ll get bored of you. She always comes back to me.”
My stomach twists.
Wyatt’s grip goes brutal for one terrifying second. Graham makes a sound—pain, shock—and I flinch.
“Wyatt,” I snap, voice sharper than I feel. “Stop.”
Wyatt’s head turns a fraction, eyes flashing. For a second he looks like he doesn’t know where he is—like he’s still in smoke, still in flames, still in that place where you do whatever it takes to eliminate a threat.
Then my voice lands.
His grip loosens.
He releases Graham with a hard shove that sends him stumbling back into the display case. Truffle boxes rattle. The bell on the front door jingles as someone outside shifts closer.
Graham straightens, fury blazing. “You psychopath—”
A new voice cuts through the shop like a gavel.
“That’s enough.”
Captain Saxon Cole stands in the doorway in uniform—dark jacket, badge, authority in every inch of him. He looks like judgment made human. His gaze flicks once over the scene: Wyatt’s posture, Graham’s rage, my pale face, the way Maddie’s arm is braced in front of me like a barrier.
Saxon’s eyes land on Graham. “You.”
Graham scoffs, trying to recover. “Are you in charge here?”
Saxon walks in slowly, controlled. “I’m in charge of Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue,” he says. “And I’m in charge of what happens when someone brings their little power games into my town and puts my people at risk.”
Graham’s mouth tightens. “This is a private matter.”
Saxon’s gaze doesn’t move. “Harassment isn’t private.”
Graham’s eyes dart toward the window again—toward the audience. He adjusts his jacket like he’s about to perform.
Saxon doesn’t let him.
“You’re being recorded,” Saxon says, calm. “And you just said ‘you can’t keep her’ in front of witnesses.”
Graham’s face flickers. “That’s not what I meant.”
Maddie’s voice is sweet and deadly. “Sure it is.”
Ethan steps forward, ranger presence filling space. “We also have evidence of trespass near a backcountry cabin. Tracks. Surveillance gaps. And a texted photo from outside the window.”
Graham’s gaze snaps to Ethan. “You can’t prove—”
Ellie-in-me wants to shrink. My old instinct wants to say I don’t want trouble. My old instinct wants to apologize for making a scene.
I force my spine straight.
I lift my phone. “It’s all on here,” I say, voice steady. “He threatened me. He admitted he’d ruin me. He tried to take my phone. He said—” I swallow hard and look at Graham. “He said I always come back.”
Graham’s eyes flash. “Ellie—”
Saxon’s voice cuts in, sharper now. “Stop talking.”
Graham freezes, stunned.
Saxon pulls his own phone out and makes a call, voice low and clipped. “Sheriff’s office? I need a unit at Devil’s Kiss Chocolates. Now.”
Graham’s face shifts. “This is insane. I’m a citizen.”
Saxon’s gaze goes flat. “So is she.”
Wyatt hasn’t moved much since I told him to stop. He’s standing there like a coiled spring, breathing controlled, but his eyes are still on Graham like he’s a threat that needs to be neutralized.
I can feel Wyatt’s anger like heat coming off him.
And under it… something else.
Fear.
Not for himself. For me.
The bell jingles again as the door opens and a deputy steps in. Then another.
Graham’s mask snaps back into place, but it’s shaky now. “Officers,” he says smoothly. “Thank God. These people are—”
Saxon raises a hand. “Save it.”
The deputy looks between us, taking in the scene. “What’s going on?”
Saxon gestures toward me. “She has recordings.”
I hold my phone up again. “Texts, threats, harassment. He escalated foreclosure to trap me. He followed me. He sent me a photo from outside a cabin window.”
The deputy’s gaze sharpens. “He sent you a photo from outside where you were staying?”
Graham’s smile tightens. “That’s an allegation.”
Maddie’s voice stays calm. “It’s an image with metadata. Ask her.”
I blink, surprised. Maddie meets my eyes. “I told you. Facts.”
I swallow and nod. “I still have it.”
The deputy steps closer. “Ma’am, can you show me?”
I unlock my phone with fingers that finally feel steady and pull up the image.
The deputy’s face changes when he sees it.
Graham’s face changes too, just slightly. A flash of “oh.”
Then his jaw tightens. “This is a misunderstanding.”
Wyatt makes a low sound that isn’t a laugh. “You’re done.”
The deputy looks at Graham. “Sir, we’re going to need you to come with us.”
Graham’s composure finally cracks. “You can’t— I didn’t— this is—”
Saxon’s voice turns colder. “You should’ve left when you were told.”
The deputies step in. Graham’s eyes cut to me, furious and desperate. “Ellie, you’re making a mistake.”
I lift my chin. “No. I’m correcting one.”
The deputy takes Graham by the arm.
Graham jerks slightly, trying to pull away like he’s never been handled in his life. “Get your hands off me—”
Wyatt moves one step forward.
Saxon catches him with a look. Not a shout. A warning.
Wyatt stops.
Barely.
They walk Graham out.
The bell jingles again, but this time it feels like release.
For a second, no one speaks.
My knees go weak out of nowhere, and Maddie’s hand tightens around my arm. “Breathe,” she murmurs.
I inhale shakily. Exhale.
Ethan gives Wyatt a look—quiet respect, quiet caution. “You did good stopping.”
Wyatt’s jaw flexes. “I shouldn’t have to stop.”
Ethan’s voice stays calm. “But you did.”
Saxon steps closer to Wyatt, voice low enough that it’s private even in a room full of people. “You almost crossed a line.”
Wyatt’s gaze doesn’t flicker. “He crossed it first.”
Saxon’s eyes narrow, but there’s something like understanding under it. “Go cool off. Now.”
Wyatt’s gaze shifts to me.
His eyes soften just a fraction, and it hits me like a punch because I realize he was terrified. Not that Graham would “win,” but that Graham would take something from me again.
Wyatt walks toward me slowly, like he’s approaching something breakable even though he knows I’m not.
Maddie steps back, but not far. Still there. Still solid.
Wyatt stops in front of me, gaze dragging over my face like he’s checking for damage. His voice drops. “You okay?”
I swallow. “I didn’t fold.”
His mouth twitches. “No. You didn’t.”
His eyes flick to my lips, and my body reacts like it remembers his mouth on mine, remembers the claim, remembers how fast the contract stopped feeling like paper.
The air between us tightens again, different now—danger passed, adrenaline still high, the kind of tension that makes a kiss feel like a match in a gas leak.
Wyatt’s voice goes lower. “You were brave.”
I scoff, but it’s weak. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make me—” My throat tightens. “Don’t make me feel like I’m going to cry.”
Wyatt’s gaze holds mine. “Then don’t cry.”
It should sound harsh.
It sounds like permission.
I inhale, steadying.
Saxon clears his throat behind Wyatt. “Cooper.”
Wyatt doesn’t turn.
Saxon’s voice stays firm. “Office. Now.”
Wyatt finally looks away from me, jaw tight. He takes a step back like it costs him, then pauses.
He looks at me again, and his expression shifts into something I can’t read at first.
Not anger.
Not heat.
Something sharper.
Something that cuts.
Then he says, quiet enough that it feels like it’s meant only for me.
“We can annul this—if you want.”