Chapter 11 Callum
CALLUM
My hands move slowly through Noelle’s dark hair, careful not to startle her.
The strands are soft, still carrying the faint scent of snow from the walk over.
She’s warm against my side, her body folded in on itself, limbs tucked tight like she’s trying to make herself small enough to disappear.
I shift a little, easing her closer so her head rests against my chest instead of the hard arm of the couch.
She doesn’t resist, just breathes in a shaky, uneven rhythm that gradually starts to calm.
I’d managed to get her onto the couch right before she completely collapsed.
One second she was trembling under my hand, and the next her legs were giving out, sinking her down onto the floor. Now she’s here pressed against me, silent except for the faint hitch of breath every so often.
Her walls are sky-high again, higher than I’ve ever seen them before.
I can’t exactly blame her for that. After what just happened, anyone would’ve snapped shut like a trap too.
Across the room, Dean’s got his phone to his ear, half-hidden by the little stretch of wall that separates the kitchenette from the living space.
He’s been there for almost fifteen minutes, pacing a short path back and forth, murmuring occasional replies but mostly listening.
I can’t make out every word, but I don’t need to. I can feel Richard’s fury bleeding through the air even from here.
He runs a hand down his face, looking more tired than I’ve seen him in years.
Yeah. Whatever’s being said on the other end isn’t good.
I glance back down at Noelle again, watching the faint rise and fall of her chest. She’s still trembling slightly, tiny, involuntary shivers that have nothing to do with the cold, but at least she’s finally relaxing.
I smooth my hand along her shoulder, slow and steady like grounding a skittish horse.
“You’re okay now,” I murmur quietly, leaning close so she can hear me even if she’s half-asleep. “He’s gone. We’ve got you and Eli. You’re both safe.”
For a moment, she doesn’t respond.
Her breathing stays uneven, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as though she’s still caught somewhere between now and the memory of him.
Then, finally, she exhales a long, tired sound.
Her muscles go slack, the tension draining out of her all at once.
It takes only a few more minutes before sleep finds her completely. Her head tilts against my arm, her mouth parting just slightly, breaths slow and even.
I sit there for a while longer, staring down at her.
There’s a quiet kind of strength to her even now.
This fragile, exhausted woman who’s somehow been holding up an entire world on her own shoulders is still trying to make things work.
Every time I think I understand her, something like this happens and reminds me just how much I don’t really know.
Gently, I slide my arm out from under her and ease her down until she’s lying flat on the couch.
She doesn’t stir, just curls instinctively toward the warmth of the blanket when I drape it over her.
I linger there for a second longer, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead before stepping away.
The mini fridge hums softly when I open it.
I grab a bottle of water and twist the cap off, glancing toward Dean as I do. His voice is low and tense, each word clipped.
Richard’s voice spills through the speaker, sharp enough to make out from where I am. “—fucking bastard’s been coming around for months after they broke up.
Had to chase him off with my damn shotgun more than once.”
“Jesus,” he mutters back.
My stomach turns at the image Richard’s words paint: Jared showing up over and over again to their house, stalking her wherever she and Eli went, threatening her, forcing her to live like she’s always waiting for the next shoe to drop.
No wonder she looked terrified when he appeared tonight.
No wonder she shut down the second he left.
I set the bottle down on the counter and scrub a hand over my face, trying to swallow the anger rising in my throat.
The thought of Jared cornering her and scaring her while Eli was around makes my skin crawl.
But not from fear. It’s a righteous sort of anger that simmers low in my gut, crawling under my skin until my own shiver races up my spine.
I’ve never seen a man look that deranged before, let alone in front of a woman he once had an intimate relationship with.
Dean’s voice cuts through the silence again, softer this time.
“Yeah, we’ll keep her here until the coast is clear.
Don’t worry. Let us know what happens with the cops and if they manage to get him.
” He listens for a moment, nodding even though the man on the other end can’t see him.
“Alright. Yeah. I’ll tell her. Try to get some sleep yourself, alright? ”
He ends the call and lets out a long, tired sigh before leaning his body back against the counter. For a few seconds, neither of us says anything.
The only sounds are the ticking of the heater in on the other side of the room and the sounds coming from the hallway outside the door where Grant disappeared a few minutes ago to follow Jared outside and make sure he actually left the property.
It feels like forever before I finally break the silence. “So. He’s been bothering her for months?”
Dean nods grimly. “According to her dad. Said the guy wouldn’t take the hint after she dumped him last Christmas. Cops couldn’t do much, apparently. Not enough evidence for a restraining order and no physical proof other than her word against his.”
My brow springs up. “Even though Richard was a former fire chief?”
Dean nods. “Guess that shit doesn’t mean much when you’re retired.”
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, my hand curling into a fist.
He glances at me. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That if he shows his face again he won’t walk away without a few broken bones?” I say, voice flat.
Dean’s mouth lifts in a humorless smirk, but there’s no argument in it, just tired understanding. “And that we need to keep tabs on Noelle and Eli. Keep them close to us until the psychopath gets dragged into jail.”
I exhale through my nose and turn to look back toward the couch.
Noelle’s still asleep, her breathing soft and even now, but her brow creases every few minutes like she’s still fighting behind her closed eyes.
She shouldn’t have to fight this battle alone, but the problem is she’s not exactly the kind of person who lets anyone fight her battles with her.
For whatever reason, besides the obvious, she’s built her life in a fortress with no room for anyone else to get close.
Especially not us.
Which means keeping her and Eli close long enough to protect them?
Yeah, it’s going to be a pain in the ass to get her to listen.
I run a hand over my face, dragging it down slowly, then glance back at Dean.
He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the soft light bleeding from the light overhead.
“You think he was telling the truth?” he asks.
My brows lift, the question catching me off guard. “About what?”
He lifts his chin toward the door, toward the memory of the bastard’s words still ringing in both our heads. “Her ex. About Eli. You think he’s actually the father?”
For a moment, I just stare at him.
My mouth stays shut, not because I’ve got nothing to say, but because I’ve got too much. The words from earlier come back to me again, “didn’t tell them you’ve been keeping my kid away from me?”
Along with the way Noelle’s whole body went rigid when he said it, how her voice shook, how she couldn’t even meet our eyes after that.
My gut reaction is simple: no way in hell.
The man strikes me as a liar, an abuser, a drunk who gets off on breaking whatever’s in front of him like a little kid bored with their toys.
I saw it the second he opened his mouth.
But then I think of Noelle and how she flinched when Dean looked at her, how she fell apart the second the door closed and the certainty wavers.
Not because I believe him, but because there’s something in her silence that scares me. I cross my arms, stare down at the floor for a long moment.
“It was always a possibility that Eli wasn’t ours,” I say finally. “Richard told us that years ago. Said it was a one-night stand from college. Could be this is the guy they meant. We all took the explanation at face value. I did, anyway.”
Dean snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, because we were idiots. We didn’t want to rock the boat. Easier to believe what we were told than deal with what it might really mean.”
He’s not wrong.
I’d buried that suspicion for years, shoved it so far down so I could almost pretend it wasn’t there.
But seeing her again, seeing Eli and those same hazel eyes and that stubborn tilt to his jaw brought everything roaring back to life.
And now with this ex in the picture, the whole equation’s shifted again.
I blow out a slow breath. “Seeing her again…reignited the same suspicion I had years ago. But this ex angle?” I shake my head, jaw tightening. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Dean studies me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to read between the lines.
Then he huffs out a dry laugh, smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “So you’re saying you think it’s true.”
I meet his gaze evenly. “It’s possible.”
“No, genius, I know it’s possible. I’m asking if you actually think it’s true.”
I glance back toward the couch again.
Noelle’s shifted in her sleep, her hand twitching where it rests near her face.
Her long curls spill across the pillow like ink, the faint lines of exhaustion etched deep even in rest.
The sight of her kills whatever diplomacy I was clinging to.
“No,” I say finally, the word coming out rough. “I don’t.”
Dean’s eyebrows lift, but I keep going.
“I don’t believe that piece of shit has any claim to that kid.
Richard never mentioned custody issues before this.
I think that guy saw a way to twist the knife when Noelle broke up with him and is trying to get back at her any way he can.
That’s what guys like him do.” My jaw clenches.
“Regardless, I do think she’s hiding something about Eli.
And I think whatever it is scares her more than Jared claiming he’s Eli’s dad ever could. ”
Dean exhales slowly. “You think she’s scared of us?”
I hesitate. “Not scared, just…unsure. Like she doesn’t know what’ll happen if she admits it to us. I mean, can you blame her? Richard alone will castrate us.”
He looks over at her too, both of us caught for a moment in the sight of her asleep on that couch, small and stubborn and still somehow holding herself together even in rest.
“No, I don’t.” Dean says quietly. “Whatever happens after this, we’ll be there. She might not like it at first, but we aren’t going anywhere. Period.”
For once, I don’t argue.