“No.” Her voice is small but certain. “I want him to leave.”
“You heard her.” Zach and I form a wall—two men who have nothing in common except the woman behind us and our willingness to protect her. “Leave. Before this gets ugly.” He points to the gate door that’s still open from when he walked through and waits.
For a long moment, no one moves. Ella shifts in my arms, making a small sound, and I adjust my grip automatically, keeping her secure.
Tiff's father looks at his granddaughter for the first time, really looks at her, and something crosses his face. Regret? Longing? I don't know and I don't care.
“This isn't over,” he finally says, but he's already backing toward his car. “She's my blood. I have rights—”
“You have nothing,” Zach says flatly. “And if you show up here again, I'm calling the police. Trespassing, harassment, whatever sticks. Try me.”
The man glares at us one more time, then walks to the gate, all the while Zach follows him. When he’s on the other side, Zach slams it shut, leaving us with no sight of him.
He’s gone, but the tension doesn't leave immediately. We all stand there in the aftermath with the sound of Ella's soft breathing as the only thing anchoring us to the present.
“Tiff.” I turn carefully, mindful of the girl in my arms. She's standing on the porch, tears streaming down her face, and her whole body shaking.
“I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I'm so sorry—”
“Don't.” Zach moves first, taking the steps two at a time to pull her into a one-armed hug. “Don't you dare apologize for him.”
I follow more slowly, Ella still asleep against my shoulder despite everything. When I reach the porch, Tiff looks up at me, her eyes red and devastated.
“Thank you,” she manages. “Both of you. I don't know what he would have—”
“Don't think about it.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “He's gone, and we’re all safe.”
Zach releases her and pulls out his phone. “I'm calling our lawyer. They need to know about this. We might need to get a restraining order—”
“Zach—”
“No arguments, T.” His voice is gentle but firm. “We're not taking chances with this asshole.”
Tiff nods weakly, then looks at Ella. “I should take her.”
“I've got her,” I say softly. “Let's get inside first.”
Tiff fumbles as she unlocks the door, but when it’s finally open, we file into the house. The warm, safe interior feels like a haven after the confrontation outside. I carry Ella straight to herroom, laying her carefully in her bed and pulling the covers up over her small form. She doesn't wake, just curls into her pillow with a contented sigh.
When I come back downstairs, Zach is on the phone with the lawyer, pacing the living room and explaining the situation in clipped tones. Tiff is sitting on the couch with her face in her hands and the baby monitor on the table next to her.
I don’t even hesitate. I need to comfort her, so I sit beside her and rest my hand on her knee, letting her know I’m here.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “You okay?”
She lets out a sound that's half laugh, half sob. “No. Not even a little bit.”
That’s when she leans into me, and I freeze for a second, but I can’t hold back when it comes to her. I wrap my arm around her, pull her into me and let her sob into my chest.
I rub her back in an attempt to calm her, feeling terrible that there was nothing I could do to make this different.
Tiff takes a deep breath before backing up to look me in the eyes.
“Thank you, Jamie. You didn’t have to do that,” she whispers.
“Yes, I did.” The words come out simple, factual. “He was threatening you, and Ella. You’ve severely misjudged my intentions if you ever think I’m going to let anyone hurt you again.”
I think that comment takes her by surprise. It surprised me too. Not because I didn’t mean it, but because I was willingly opening myself up to her again.