The party is already loud when you step inside—music rattling the walls, cheap beer, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder. Eddie thrives in it. He’s already halfway across the room, leather jacket tossed over a chair, laughing too loud with Gareth and Jeff like the place was built just for him.

You squeeze his hand once before letting go. “I’m gonna go say hi to Nancy and Robin,” you shout over the noise.

Eddie leans down, presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Don’t disappear on me, sweetheart.”

Across the room, Nancy is mid-argument with Robin about something serious—college, probably—while you nod along, laughing, chiming in when you can. You don’t notice it at first. Eddie does.

From where he’s standing, beer sweating in his hand, Eddie sees the way some guy near the kitchen keeps looking. Not just a glance. Not accidental. Long looks. Repeats. The kind that linger a second too long, like he’s cataloging you.

Eddie’s grin fades.

He doesn’t rush. That’s the thing. He takes a slow pull from his beer, jaw tightening, eyes never leaving the guy. Gareth says something to him—Eddie doesn’t hear it. He sets the bottle down, rolls his shoulders once like he’s loosening up, then walks.

The guy doesn’t notice Eddie until Eddie’s already there. Eddie slides in easy, like they’re old friends, slings an arm around the guy’s shoulders with a casual weight that makes it very clear he’s not asking permission. He smells like beer and cigarettes and confidence.

Eddie tips his head closer, voice low but unmistakable. “You see my girl?”

The guy stiffens, eyes darting across the room—finding you laughing with Robin, completely unaware.

Eddie follows his gaze, smiles wider. Proud. Dangerous. “Yeah. Very pretty,” he continues, tone almost conversational. “Kinda hard to miss, huh?”

The guy swallows. “Man, I—I was just—”

Eddie chuckles softly, the sound friendly but sharp around the edges. His arm tightens just a fraction. “Doesn’t matter what you were just doin’,” he says. “What matters is what you’re not gonna do.”

He leans in, voice dropping even lower. “She’s very off limits,” Eddie murmurs. “Very mine.”

The guy nods fast. “Got it. Yeah. Totally.”

Eddie releases him like nothing happened, gives his shoulder a light pat. “Good talk.”

Then Eddie turns back toward you. His mood flips instantly—grin back in place, eyes softening as soon as they land on you. You catch him watching, eyebrows lifting like he’s checking in.

You smile back, a little confused, but warm. Safe.

Eddie grabs another beer, settles back with his friends—but every so often, his eyes drift to you again. Not possessive in a cage-you way. Protective. Certain.

Everyone in that room might be loud, drunk, and careless.

But Eddie Munson? He knows exactly what’s his—and exactly how to make sure everyone else knows it too.