Chapter 4 Frost
Frost
The tension in the truck is so thick, you could cut it with a harmless butter knife.
Only the hum of the heater whirs between us, and the scrape of snow and gravel under the truck’s tires.
Noelle sits as stiff as a board, angling her body away from me as she makes a point of gazing out the window. She clutches the brown parcel on her lap like it’s her lifeline, her jaw clenched tight.
She’s tense, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.
Noelle hates me—all because I was stupid enough to let her go ten years ago.
I was a stupid kid, and any hope I ever had with her went out the window the day she left for New York.
Out of all of us, I was the one who treated her the worst. I deserve her snark and hatred.
Worst of all, I deserved the barb about my long-abandoned music career. I’d forgotten that I had dreams of being bigger than the goddamned Beatles.
Unlike Noelle with her writing, I never had a chance. I lacked the drive and the ambition.
But Noelle is too stubborn to give up. If someone tells her that she can’t do something, then she goes ahead and does that very same thing.
I’m not surprised a publisher finally took a chance on her. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
There are so many things I want to say. That I was an idiot—that my brothers and I never should have given her up, all just because our own mother gave us up.
Noelle is nothing like that woman. She was always so warm and kind and always had a way of cheering me up. The way her big brown doe eyes always sparkled whenever she read Emily Bronte.
I think I just reignited that spark now when I used my old pet name for her. And there she was again, the same bespectacled girl with her unconventional ideas about romance and happily ever after.
They say true artists are born when they’ve experienced great pain… So, what pain did Noelle use as inspiration to forge her words?
My throat tightens as I keep my hands on the steering wheel. I have no doubt in my mind what pain she drew from.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I were the villain in her story.
Damn, she still smells as good as I remember, like melted caramel. It looks as if the big city hasn’t managed to wash away that pure scent.
And she’s just as beautiful as I remember, too. Lush red hair, small button nose—the perfect perch for her big tortoiseshell glasses—and the same plump lips.
She never knew it, but Noelle was the hottest girl at school. She had no idea that every guy was pining for her, and the only reason the other girls were mean to her was because they were jealous.
Noelle always had that beauty that just hit you at the most unexpected of times, like when she was writing or reading her favorite novel.
I even wrote a few songs about her whenever she was in those states of being. Whenever she was in the zone, she came to life.
My Alpha wants to park this car and drag her onto my lap so I can kiss and bite on those perfect lips, but she would only push me away.
I’ve been with many women since she left, but it was always her I imagined beneath me whenever I fucked them.
When they would moan out my name, it was always her voice I heard singing back to me.
Fuck, how my Alpha aches for her. How my cock aches for her.
My grip tightens on the wheel.
She turns her head, and shit… Does she know how much I want her right now?
She huffs, shaking her head. “You haven’t changed at all.”
I will my Alpha back inside his cage, sniggering, “That so? Well, you’ve changed a lot. Where are the glasses?”
I look at her from the corner of my eye.
“Ever heard of contacts, Ringo?”
I bite the inside of my cheek at the name. Is that a jibe about my failed career as a musician again?
“I’d say I was more of a Lennon,” I chuckle.
“You wish,” she snorts, gazing back out the window again.
I laugh. “Damn, big attitude for a big-city girl.”
“And what a small attitude for such a small-minded, small-town boy…”
Ouch.
Still the same spitfire, I see. Most men can’t handle a bit of fire, but I always loved her smart mouth.
“Yeah, well… this small-minded, small-town boy just saved your life. You could have frozen out there.”
“And now you’re starting to remind me of why I would have preferred to become an Omega popsicle by dawn.”
I scoff. “Not if the bears got to you first.”
She gives me the side-eye as I hold back another snort. Yeah, I got the whole bear thing. I don’t live in a cave…
I have the internet.
The distant lights of Silverpine morph into view, and in the pitch-black night, the town almost resembles an ocean liner as snow spreads around it like a vast sea of white.
I sense Noelle tensing in the passenger seat as we reach the outskirts of town, and the Yuletide spirits are in full swing already.
Lights dazzle on every structure and building, glowing warmly in the frigid air.
Silverpine really does look like the miniature town you find inside a snow globe. Even the snow sprinkles down from the sky to fall in fluffy white flakes on the sidewalk.
Even though she turned her back on Silverpine, I still spy the way her brown eyes dance when she takes in all the familiar sights.
This was her home until she was eighteen. So, she must still have some fondness for this place.
Even if it is home to three of the worst Alphas who have ever lived.
“The same address, I take it?”
I’m talking about her Nana’s old address, of course.
She stares at me again as if I just said something stupid. “Obviously. Don’t pretend as if you don’t know.”
She’s got me there. Hardly anything changes at Silverpine. Noelle’s grandmother is a staple of the town. Her baked goods are always to die for every year at the Christmas Market.
We soon arrive at the house, and I recall all the times I spent here as a child. It still has the same wraparound porch. A wreath of holly berries hangs on the front door, and Christmas lights glow in the windows.
Noelle gets out of the car wordlessly after I park, and I make sure my voice carries as I call out, “No thanks for the ride, Frost.”
“Kiss my big-city derriere, Ringo.”
I have to hold back another howl of laughter as she makes her way up the snow-covered front steps of the porch. Her mother greets her at the door, but I wait a moment, even long after the door slams shut.
Snow sweeps off the sloped roof in her wake.
When I finally realize she isn’t going to come back out and offer me her thanks, I restart the truck, then drive back to the lodge.
My brothers aren’t going to believe me when I break the news to them.