Page 19 of Making the Save

“Wyatt, did you at least get to fuck her?”

We were only ten, maybe fifteen feet from the SUV, but Wyatt stopped in his tracks and I bounced off his back.

“What the fuck did you say?” He asked and lunged for the, and I use the word loosely, journalist.

It was exactly the reaction they wanted.

Cameras went off in Wyatt’s face. People were shoving for position to get closer to him even as he barreled his way through them. He was like a bowling ball, plowing through pins. It was absolute pandemonium and I needed it to stop before someone got hurt.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Wyatt roared, just as his hand wrapped around the short man’s neck. I wasn’t even sure how he knew who had said what, but Wyatt seemed convinced.

I ran behind him and reached for his free hand. I had zero ability to alter his momentum, so all I could do was squeeze his fingers as hard as I could to communicate to him that he needed to back off.

“Wyatt!” I shouted over the noise. “Let’s go!”

Something about my tone must have penetrated his anger, because he released the guy and turned back to me.

“Don’t engage!” I shouted.

“Did you hear what this fucker said?”

“Let’s go,” I said, trying with all my weight to pull him forward.

It was a joke. He was only going to move if he wanted to move.

A brave soul, a woman this time, shoved a microphone in Wyatt’s face.

Great. She was probably fromCelebrity Truth.

“Mr. Locke, how long have you known Sydney? Was this a drunk Las Vegas wedding or a planned event?”

Wyatt, going completely rogue at this point, took the microphone from the woman’s hand and held it to his mouth.

“We’ve actually been dating for months,” Wyatt said, his face dead serious. “This was not some drunken accident. Sydney isn’t a flake or a slut or any of the other shit you say about her. This is my wife and you’ll watch what you say about her. Are we fucking clear?”

I closed my eyes.

This wasn’t happening.

He dropped the microphone on the ground and together we launched ourselves into the back seat. Me first, then him behind me, shutting the car door, blocking out most of the noise and flashing lights.

“Drive and don’t worry if you run over anybody,” Wyatt said.

That was a little unfair to put on a paid driver, but I had other concerns.

“Wyatt!” I slapped his massive shoulder and hurt my hand in the process. “What were you thinking? Why would you say that?”

He leaned back against the seat and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“They pissed me off.”

My eyes nearly rolled back in my head. “Of course they pissed you off. It is their job to piss you off. I told you they only want the reaction!”

“Yeah. Well. They got one.”

I dropped my head into my hands. “Beatrice is going to kill me. No wait, Tyler is going to kill me. No wait, I’m going to killyou.”

“I changed the narrative,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “You said we could do that.”