Chapter 13 Grant #2
She wipes her hands on her apron then leans forward like she’s telling us something she’s been meaning to.
“Oh, that boy. He’s trouble. Cheated on poor Noelle, broke her heart right good.
Came by every day with flowers and apologies, but my girl wouldn’t have any of it. Kept throwing him out of her store.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, pride blooming in my chest at the image of Noelle standing her ground like that. “You have any idea where he lives? Or works?”
She shakes her head, then brightens like she’s suddenly remembering the town’s gossip map.
“Last I knew, he lived with his mama up on Maple Street. Worked over at Milton’s Hardware.
Used to spend most days loitering around there twiddling his thumbs.
But, who knows? He’s always getting fired from somewhere. Can’t keep a job to save his life.”
That sounds about right.
A guy who sows trouble and can’t hold down a job is small-town nightmare formula on steroids.
Every place like this has one, always with a new excuse, a new story, and someone else footing his bills, and Jared fits the part to a damn T.
It doesn’t surprise me this guy has a reputation that precedes him.
What does surprise me, what bothers me the most, is wondering how in the hell Noelle ever got tangled up in his drama in the first place.
She was never naive.
Even six years ago, she carried herself with quiet caution. Smart, grounded, steady in a way that made you take her seriously even when she was teasing you.
So what happened?
Did the weight of everything that came after our weekend break her down enough that she started reaching for something reckless, even if it was all wrong?
The thought twists in my gut.
Had we left her so spun around that she went looking for comfort in the arms of the first guy who offered it?
The idea makes my stomach turn, but not because I’m angry with her. I’m angry at myself.
Because if Jared found her when she was at her lowest, when she was alone and scared and was still coming to terms with what happened between all of us…
Hell, I can see how it happened.
Guys like him have a sixth sense for women like Noelle: strong on the outside but bleeding quietly on the inside.
They swoop in with promises they don’t mean, offering warmth that turns cold the second they get what they want.
It wouldn’t surprise me if he followed her down from college after finding out she was expecting and decided to make himself the hero in a story he never deserved to be in.
Guys like Jared love that kind of redemption arc, the whole “father of the year” act while stealing cash from your purse and calling it a gift.
Noelle probably tried to believe him.
Tried to make it work for Eli’s sake because that’s who she is. Who she’s always been.
I grit my teeth, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets.
The anger doesn’t help, but it’s better than the ache of shame and regret sitting behind it.
“Thanks for the info, Miss,” Callum says, snapping me back to the present. He offers her a polite nod.
“You tell Noelle I said hi and that she did the right thing, keeping him out. Men like that? They don’t change,” she adds the last part almost gently.
“That they don’t,” I murmur.
She gives us a knowing look, then she goes back to her tray of cookies, humming under her breath as the door jingles behind us with a new customer walking in.
We thank the woman, promise we’ll pass along her message, and step back out into the cold morning air.
The door swings shut behind us, rattling softly from the bell hitting against the inside glass.
After retrieving the shovels, we head back down the street.
My car sits half-buried back at the hotel’s parking lot.
When we get to it, Callum wipes at his face with the back of his glove, muttering something under his breath that I don’t catch, and helps me unbury it before climbing into the passenger side.
The engine groans before turning over, the heater whirring to life. I rest my hands on the steering wheel, staring out at the line of brick storefronts dusted in white.
We’ve got a name.
A street.
A place of work, maybe.
If Jared thinks he can keep circling Noelle like a damn shark smelling blood in the water, he’s got another thing coming.
“Downtown?” Callum asks, glancing my way.
“Yeah,” I say, throwing the car into gear. “Let’s see what kind of trouble Milton’s Hardware attracts.”
The drive isn’t long, maybe ten minutes up the road, but it might as well have been an hour with how heavy the silence feels.
The heater hums low, blowing out a weak warmth that struggles to cut through the chill clinging to me.
Snow drifts lazily past the windshield, the flakes fat and slow now, no longer raging like yesterday’s blizzard but still falling steady enough to blur the road ahead.
The wipers squeak with every pass, clearing a narrow strip of visibility that only gives me more time to think.
Callum’s sitting in the passenger seat, one elbow propped on the window, his jaw set tight in thought.
His reflection flickers in the glass.
Sharp features wrinkling in thought and grey eyes scanning the white-coated town as if the answer to everything might appear between the snowbanks.
I don’t blame him for being worried.
Hell, I am too.
The tension isn’t bad exactly, just thick and heavy with everything neither of us wants to admit out loud.
I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing I am: that Noelle’s descent into getting together with Jared has something to do with us.
It pains me to think that—and even more to believe it.
Having any kind of hand in nudging Noelle in that direction, one that eventually leads her to experience this kind of hurt, makes my teeth clench.
She’s not just someone we’re helping out of a bad situation, she’s a person all three of us deeply care about.
Taking over six years to come back here is a mistake I’ll never get over regretting.
We should’ve done it sooner, should’ve stopped letting excuses like life and our jobs get in the way of reconnecting with her.
It may have never stopped her from getting pregnant, but perhaps it would’ve saved her all the heartache that came afterward.
Every time she looks at me, it feels like a door reopening to something I didn’t even realize I’d been missing.
But I can’t afford to think like that.
Not now, at least.
Callum clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “So, what’s the plan?”
I grip the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking under my gloves. “If he still works there, we’ll go in and watch him from a distance. Get a feeling for his routine. I’m not saying we full-on stalk him, but I want to know how the hell he hangs out with and where he goes.”
He leans back against his seat. “Sounds like a plan.”
We pass the diner on the corner, its neon sign still blinking lazily, pulsing in time with the beat streaming faintly into the car from the radio.
The street narrows as we turn down Main.
The hardware store looms a few yards away, old brick with a faded red-and-white sign that reads Milton’s Hardware and Supply.
I scan the cars as we pull into the parking lot.
My eyes land on the beat-up sedan parked crooked near the snowbank. Rust creeps up the wheel wells like rot.
The back bumper’s held on with duct tape.
There’s no doubt in my mind when I see it, it’s the same one from the night he came to our hotel room.
I exhale through my nose, forcing my hands to relax on the wheel as I park a few spots away from it. “We’re not here to start anything, Callum. Just to talk.”
He gives me a look that tells me exactly what he thinks of that idea.
“Sure,” he says, dryly. “You telling yourself that or me?”
I don’t bother giving him a response to that.
We both know how this will go down if Jared decides to open his mouth and say something stupid.
We head inside, the blast of heat from the overhead vents ruffling our clothes.
There’s a radio humming softly behind the counter, some old country song playing low.
Two older guys in work jackets are sorting through bolts near the front, but otherwise the place is empty.
I nod for Callum to follow me and head down the first aisle.
We spot him when we reach the back of the store.
He’s at the far end of the aisle two down from us, leaning on a cart full of disorganized boxes.
His hair’s greasy and unkempt, sticking out from under a beanie that’s seen better days. Wrapped around him is a muted color apron that’s stained beyond repair.
The moment his gaze lifts and catches mine, something in his posture changes. His smirk flickers to life.
He straightens up, puffing his chest out. “Well, if it isn’t the goddamn cavalry coming out to play. What, didn’t get enough last time? Or did Noelle actually wise up and kick you both to the curb?”
Callum doesn’t rise to the bait. He just folds his arms across his chest and levels Jared with a firm look.
“We came to make sure you understood what the term staying away means. Since last time you seemed eager to rehash things in the future, we’re here to tell you to reconsider that if you know what’s good for you. ”
Jared chuckles, the sound grating on my nerves. “Yeah, is that so? Interesting you think you have any business getting in the middle and mine and Noelle’s. I suggest you both stick your nose somewhere else if you know what’s good for you.”
That smirk, that slick tone, they’re enough to make me want to swing, to knock the arrogance right out of him.
But it’s more than that.
It’s the way he talks about Noelle like she’s something he owns, something he can hurt just to prove a point.
“You’re done with her, Jared. You so much as drive past her shop again, or try to harass her at her home, we’ll make sure you regret it. If the police won’t deal with you, we will.”