Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
By the time Noah got home from the community center, his fingers were still numb and there was glitter embedded in places no glitter should logically reach.
He flipped the switch in his workshop, filling the space with warm, golden, familiar light, and set his gloves on the radiator. The place smelled like pine shavings and varnish, the scents grounding him instantly. He breathed in, breathed out.
Today had been… a lot.
Eli Winters had been a lot.
Noah leaned both hands on his workbench, bowing his head and letting the adrenaline taper.
He could still feel the ghost-pressure of Eli’s shoulder brushing his.
And then there was the quiet, thoughtful way he said things.
The sight of Eli’s faint smile whenever Noah accidentally flirted filled him with warmth.
Which probably happened more often than I’d like to admit.
He straightened and rubbed his eyes.
Get a grip, Carter.
A tap on the window froze him, and he frowned. Late visitors were rare unless something was broken, frozen, or on fire. Then he saw Mark Sullivan’s face through the dust-smeared glass.
Noah smiled. “Hey, stranger.” He unlocked the workshop’s outer door.
“I had a feeling I’d find you here.” Mark was bundled in a red puffer coat, his cheeks pink, his reddish beard dusted with snow.
“Duh. Where else would I be, this time of year? What are you doing here?”
“Dinner,” Mark announced, stepping inside. “You’re coming. I’m kidnapping you. Okay, it’s all very consensual, but I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Noah laughed. “What are you talking about?”
Mark grinned like a man who’d set his mind to something. “Liam’s made pot roast. And by ‘Liam’s made pot roast,’ I mean I bullied him into cooking something other than pasta. You’re joining us.”
Noah arched his eyebrows. “It’s a Monday.”
“Pot roast doesn’t care what day it is,” Mark said. “Also, neither do we. Go get your coat.”
Noah stared, suspicion dawning. “Did Elsie call you?”
Mark widened his eyes in innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You never could lie for shit,” Noah said with a groan. “What did she tell you?”
“That you were vibrating today,” Mark said cheerfully.
“I don’t vibrate.”
“Not according to her. You were absolutely vibrating.”
“Elsie has no boundaries.”
“She also isn’t wrong.” Mark folded his arms. “Coat. Shoes. Move.”
Noah sighed dramatically but warmth crept into his chest.
Mark and Liam were good, solid friends. Noah’s first attempt at dating after Tyler left had been with Mark, and it had been tentative and short-lived. Both of them had realized within three dates that they had zero romantic chemistry but excellent friendship chemistry.
The town, however, had rooted far too hard for a small-town HEA.
“Just us?” Noah asked as he grabbed his coat.
“Yep,” Mark said. “Unless you want Liam’s brother to join us, but I don’t recommend it. He’s still convinced you’re in love with me.”
“Oh my God.”
“Right? More than a year since Liam and I married, and Garth still thinks you’re pining. Honestly, rude.”
Noah laughed and followed him out the door.
Maybe this is exactly what I need.
Liam’s and Mark’s house smelled like heaven, the aroma of rich broth, herbs, butter, and warm bread filling the air.
Liam was at the stove. He beamed at the sight of Noah as though he’d just won a prize.
“Noah! So Mark managed to bully you into coming.” He put his spoon down and held his arms wide. Noah walked into them.
“He didn’t bully me,” he murmured, accepting the hug.
From behind him, Mark scoffed. “He absolutely did.”
Liam released Noah, then stepped back and studied him with a teacher’s stern concern. “Have you eaten today?”
“Yes,” Noah lied.
“He hasn’t,” Mark added.
“I had cocoa. That counts, right?”
Liam clicked his tongue. “Sit. You can mash potatoes or tell us about your day.”
Noah sat at the counter. “Potatoes. Way safer.” He added butter to the saucepan and proceeded to bash the potatoes into submission.
“That depends,” Mark said. He took the stool facing Noah, his elbows on the counter. “Tell us why you were glowing when we drove by the community center earlier.”
“I was not glowing.”
“Oh, you were so glowing,” Liam confirmed. “Like Frosty the Snow-himbo.”
Noah groaned and dropped his head onto his folded arms. “I hate this town.”
“No you don’t.” Mark nudged him. “Now spill.”
Noah hesitated. He wasn’t ready to dissect today, not fully. It felt too new, too fragile.
But these two care.
There’d been a couple of dates after Mark, not successful ones. Tyler still haunted him. And when those memories threatened to break Noah, to crack his world open, Liam and Mark would show up with casseroles and wine, to make sure he wasn’t alone.
I trust them.
“There’s this guy,” Noah said quietly.
In perfect unison, Mark and Liam both went utterly still.
“Oh my god,” Mark whispered.
“Oh my GOD,” Liam gasped.
“Why does Elsie call him bakery man?”
“Is he cute?”
Noah lifted a hand. “Will you two just stop? It’s nothing. He’s… helping. At the community center.”
Liam leaned closer. “And?”
“And he’s nice,” Noah said. “Quiet. Sarcastic. Smart. Warm.”
Mark sighed dreamily. “A man with layers. I love a lasagna.”
“Mark, please,” Noah said.
“Tell us his name,” Liam demanded.
“No.”
“Is he cute?” Mark pressed.
Noah stared at the potato masher in his hand. “Yes.”
“Hair?” Liam asked.
“Dark. Kinda neat. So’s his beard.”
“Eyes?”
“Brown. A warm brown,” Noah said helplessly. “Hazel, depending on the light.”
Mark clasped his chest. “Flannel-wearing carpenter tragically falls for color-shifting bakery man—”
“He’s not—” Noah stopped. “He’s Aileen’s brother.”
Both husbands froze.
“Oh,” Mark breathed.
“Ohhh,” Liam whispered, eyes wide.
Noah scowled. “Don’t make that sound.”
“That sound,” Mark said, pointing dramatically, “means destiny.”
“That sound,” Liam added, nodding vigorously, “means you have the town’s full blessing.”
Noah blinked. “What? Why?”
Mark stared at him as if he’d missed something obvious. “Aileen Winters is basically Mapleford’s Patron Saint of Good Decisions. If her brother is interested in you—”
“He’s not—”
“—then it means he’s pre-approved,” Mark finished.
Liam leaned in. “Also, the bakery is emotionally sacred ground. You pairing up with the bakery brother? The town will combust with joy. They’ve been waiting for your next good love story.”
“No,” Noah groaned. “Nobody is combusting.”
Mark patted his shoulder solemnly. “My friend… they’re already warming up.”
“We do not ship anything,” Noah insisted.
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Are you attracted to him?”
Noah drained half his water, debating whether drowning himself in the sink was socially acceptable. “Yes.”
“Does he feel it too?” Liam asked.
Noah swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Meaning?”
“He… looks at me like…” Noah struggled for the word. “Like he’s trying to figure me out. As if he likes what he sees. And today—at the door—we almost…”
Mark leaned forward. “Almost what?”
“Almost…” Noah gestured vaguely. “Kissed.”
Liam clapped. “Our boy is back.”
Noah buried his face in both hands. “We didn’t kiss. The moment was ruined.”
“By who?” Mark demanded.
“Elsie.”
Mark and Liam groaned in sympathy.
“That woman,” Liam muttered. “Agents of chaos, all art teachers.”
“I swear she has radar for emotional tension,” Noah said miserably. “She appears out of thin air anytime two people stand too close.”
Mark grinned. “She cares.”
“She meddles.”
“She cares by meddling,” Liam corrected.
Noah dropped the potato masher into the pan. “I don’t know what to do.”
Mark and Liam exchanged a look.
Liam spoke first, his voice softer this time. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let it happen.”
Noah stared at him. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Love is dangerous,” Mark remonstrated. “But he sounds good for you.”
“He is,” Noah said before he could stop himself. “And… his name is Eli.”
Both husbands smiled gently.
Noah scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” Liam asked.
“That I’m reading too much into it,” Noah said. “That I’ll screw it up. That the town will get invested again, and—”
Mark touched his forearm. “This town loves you. Not because of Tyler. Not because of drama. Just because you belong here.”
Liam nodded. “And they’re not waiting for you to find someone. They’re waiting for you to be happy.”
Noah’s throat tightened.
“And if Eli makes you smile the way you’re smiling right now?” Mark beamed. “Then they’ll be thrilled.”
Noah stared at him. “I’m smiling?”
Mark snorted. “You look as if someone told you Christmas got extended through February.”
“Or as if you found a cute guy in a hardware store,” Liam added.
Noah threw a kitchen towel at him. “Guys, I say this with love, okay? You have got to stop this acting in unison shit. You do it all the time, and it’s seriously creepy. It’s as if you share the same brain.”
They laughed, but it was the light kind.
The healing kind.
Dinner was a success, a blend of warm food, easy conversation, and gentle teasing. Mark and Liam didn’t push or pry. They simply let Noah feel safe.
That safe feeling extended beyond their front door as he left to walk home through the snow. Mark offered to give him a ride, but Noah wanted to think.
Snow whispered through the trees as Noah walked, crunching beneath his boots. Mapleford glowed in the quiet way only small towns did at night, its shop windows dim, its streetlamps haloed in frost, wreaths swaying in the cold breeze.
He’d left Mark and Liam’s house feeling full in a way he hadn’t felt in years. It hadn’t been because of pot roast or laughter, or even because they’d been so stubbornly, lovingly supportive, but because of the truth he’d finally said out loud.
He wanted something with Eli.
Something real.
Something new.
He wasn’t sure what it would look like. He wasn’t even sure he deserved it.
But for the first time in a long time, he wanted to try.
When he reached home, he went into his back room and flicked on the small lamp over his desk. Warm light bloomed across the woodgrain.
Noah pulled out a fresh string of lights, his hands already remembering tomorrow’s tasks, his mind drifting ahead.
He imagined Eli standing beside him, his breath fogging the winter air, his fingers brushing Noah’s.
He imagined the moment that almost happened in the community center.
And for the first time since Tyler left, Noah didn’t feel the tightness in his chest.
Instead, he felt possibility, bright, unreasonable, and hopeful.
The feeling left him a little stunned.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured to the empty room. “Please don’t let me make an idiot of myself.”