Chapter 12 Noelle
NOELLE
I stir awake slowly, the world coming back in soft fragments.
My body aches in that deep, bone-heavy way that comes from emotional exhaustion more than anything physical.
Beside me, Eli’s curled close, his small frame bundled in blankets, one hand tucked beneath his chin.
His chestnut curls are a wild halo across the pillow, his lips parted just slightly as he breathes. I lie there watching him for a long moment, my chest tightening with something that feels too big to contain.
Love so fierce it borders on pain.
He’s the only good thing I’ve ever done completely right.
My reason for even still being here, my anchor, the one piece of my life that’s never felt like a mistake.
I brush my fingers lightly through his hair, careful not to wake him, then ease myself out of bed.
My bare feet sink into the carpet, and I pad toward the window, wrapping my arms tight around my body.
The morning light is dim and blue, filtered through a sky swollen with snow.
Outside, the town looks like something out of a postcard—rooftops capped in white, trees bent under the weight of it. Across the street, the park in the courtyard is buried completely under.
It’s a shame it snowed so badly and out of the blue yesterday.
Every December, our town throws together a Christmas Market in the park, Eli’s favorite weekend activity. With how deep everything is buried, I doubt there will be one today.
I spot a few deep tire tracks carved into the road, proof that someone braver—or hell, stupider— than me tried driving through it.
Probably someone from the committee coming around to check how bad this side of town got hit.
But judging by how still everything is, I doubt anyone’s going to be leaving their houses today.
Aside from that, there’s no way I can drive back to Dad’s house. Which means we’ll have to wait it out or walk.
The idea of trudging through the snow again, especially after yesterday, feels impossible.
Not to mention even if I do try, I’ll be scolded by Callum again.
A dull ache throbs behind my eyes, the leftover echo of too many tears and not enough sleep.
I rub at my face, trying to push the heaviness away, but the memories creep in anyway.
I don’t remember much after Callum sitting me down on the couch. Just the blur of voices and the sound of someone locking the door sometime after.
The solid warmth beside me had lulled me to sleep, and I should have woken up on the couch.
Which means one of them must’ve carried me in here sometime last night.
I shouldn’t feel comforted by the thought of one of them tucking me into bed, but I do.
I glance back at Eli, his tiny hand still fisted in the blanket, and I remind myself what’s at stake.
Losing myself in them is only going to complicate things.
Even if I could believe the spark from years ago was still there, even if I could delude myself that their protectiveness, their desire to keep me around wasn’t something born out of nostalgia, eventually they’ll have to return back to their old lives, states away, while I remain here.
I move to the mirror by the dresser and grimace at my reflection.
My eyes are red-rimmed, the faint smudges of sleeplessness still shadowing the skin beneath them.
My hair’s a mess, tangled from tossing and turning all night, and there’s a faint crease down the side of my cheek from the pillow.
I look like someone who’s barely holding it together.
And the worst part? That’s exactly how I feel.
In just a few minutes, once Eli wakes up and I have to step out there, I’ll have to face them.
They’ll have questions about Jared, about Eli, about what the hell last night was and I’m not at all ready for any of it.
I’m pissed about Jared, furious that he managed to find me after all this time, but underneath that anger there’s something uglier clawing its way up my throat: shame.
Not just for the things he said, but for the way I let myself fall apart in front of Dean, Grant, and Callum like that.
I’m more angry at myself than anything else.
They’ve been kind, more than kind, but that’s the problem.
I can’t.
I just…can’t.
“Mama?” Eli’s tired voice stirs me out of my thoughts.
I smile and head back over to the bed. “Want to see the winter wonderland outside?”
He nods his head, one hand coming up to rub at his eyes while he blinks the other one sleepily.
I smile, pulling him into my arms, inhaling the sweet, sleepy scent of him.
Lifting him up into my arms, we shuffle to the window together.
The second he looks outside, he gasps at the sight, his face lighting up like the Christmas lights in my shop.
“Pretty, hm?” I say, kissing his warm cheek.
To my surprise, a utility van has pulled up at the curb over by the park. Two people are already out grabbing shovels from the back of it to work on removing the snow covering the sidewalks.
Behind them, a large truck pulls up.
The driver gets out and even from here, I recognize him: Mark Walters, the holiday board’s supervisor.
His hand cups over his eyes as he stares out at the park, his other moving while directing the two guys with shovels.
The Christmas market is a quirk of our holiday-obsessed town and one of the only things people around here look forward to.
Booths draped in garland, twinkling lights strung between trees, the faint scent of mulled cider wafting through the park as people walk past.
It’s a yearly tradition that no one wants to miss, which apparently includes our board’s supervisor.
I have no doubt that if he can get the park cleaned up by noon, vendors will brave the bad roads just to set up their booths.
Eli bounces in my arms. He practically suctions his face to the glass, fogging it. “Can we go? Please, Mama? The market!”
I hesitate, glancing at the adjoining door where the men are stirring. They’ve been my unexpected guardians, but venturing without them feels like tempting fate. But so does letting them tag along.
What kind of rumors would start circulating if people started reading into their protectiveness of Eli and me?
“Please?” Eli begs, leaning back from the window to look at me.
Beyond his face print, three more vans have pulled up to start working on clearing things.
I sigh, feeling the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose as a slight headache starts to form.
“How about we eat breakfast first, and then we’ll see how far the clean-up efforts have gotten.”
“Yay!” He cheers, wiggling from my arms.
He drops down to the floor and scrambles over to the door. It’s thrown open with a flourish. He’s greeted by three sets of rumbling voices before he disappears into the other room.
I catch my tired reflection in the mirror one last time before joining him.
Dean’s already ordered room service for the five of us in the form of pancakes stacked high and dripping with syrup, bacon crispy with perfectly cooked eggs on the side, and coffee still steaming in the little to-go cups.
I sit down in between Dean and Callum, thanking them when a plate is slid my way.
Over breakfast, Eli chatters about the market, talking endlessly about the previous years he remembers and all of the gifts and food he ate.
The guys are enraptured by his animated stories, nodding along and probing him with questions in between bites.
Eventually, I finally give up and agree to go.
Callum volunteers to stay behind, his tone casual but his eyes serious when he turns to look at me. “In case that ex of yours is stupid enough to show his face again. I’ll hold the fort.”
I don’t know why but hearing that makes my chest flutter.
Grant and Dean bundle up with us, their presence a comforting presence as we step into the crisp, winter air.
The snow crunches under our boots, Eli's mittened hand in mine as we cross to the park.
Within only a few hours, the market is alive and well.
I have to say, I’m incredibly impressed.
Vendors are scattered all around under their tents and behind their booths, hawking handmade ornaments and crafts.
The sizzle of chestnuts roasting makes my stomach ache despite my breakfast still settling.
A live band plays carols from the gazebo in the center of the park, the sound lightly drifting over the area.
Eli’s eyes widen at every booth, and I watch in enchantment as Grant and Dean fall into step with him easily.
There’s a tenderness in Dean’s eyes when Eli grabs his hand and drags him forward.
A depth to it that makes my heart ache. Seeing his soft spot for me extend to Eli stirs a deep longing in my heart I thought I'd buried.
Grant keeps up with them, points out booths where tall wood carvings are being showcased.
He squats down to my son’s level, carefully explaining the process behind each little itch in the hard surfaces of the statues.
Eli listens with rapt attention, their heads bent close.
It’s intimate and fatherly, and it makes tears prick my eyes.
These men, who shared my body in a weekend of passion, now care for my son with such natural ease, making me feel so emotional that it’s hard to contain.
They don’t even know he’s one of theirs, yet that hasn’t stopped any of them from caring all the same.
Would this have been what life could be if I let them in?
If I told them back then the truth?
I can’t help imagining it now, watching them wander with my son as I follow behind them.
My life would’ve been forever changed, Eli’s too.
But what about my dad?
Would he have come around eventually?
Forgiven me, forgiven them, and wanted to be a part of this with us?
I wish, more than anything, I knew.
“Noelle!” a voice calls out to me, stopping me in my tracks. As I turn, I spot a familiar head of grey hair pushing her way over to me. “There you are. I thought I saw you.”
My entire body stiffens.
Jared’s mother, Evelyn.
Fuck…
“Hey.” I manage, swallowing back my anxiety.
Her fur-trimmed coat is bundled tight up to her chin, her face pinched with disapproval.
She’s a formidable woman, her silver hair always perfectly coiffed on top of her head.