Chapter 9
HANNAH
We just dropped Dad off at his house, and now Noel’s truck is idling in the dark street, engine running but neither of us moving.
The silence stretches between us. I can hear the heater blowing, the occasional pop of the engine settling. My hands are twisted in my lap, and I’m staring at them like they hold all the answers.
“So,” Noel finally says, turning slightly in the driver’s seat to face me. “Do I take you all the way back to Lily’s place? That’s over an hour from here. Or you could crash at mine tonight.”
My immediate reaction is to say no. To politely decline, make up some excuse about not wanting to impose, maintain the boundaries I’ve been desperately trying to keep between us.
But I’m exhausted. The party drained every ounce of energy I had, and the thought of that long drive followed by trying to sleep in Lily’s spare room and not making too much noise to wake up her little ones sounds overwhelming.
“I couldn’t—”
“Look.” Noel cuts me off, and his voice is gentle, but there’s steel underneath. “Lily already told me what happened with Scot. About him packing up your stuff, changing the locks, kicking you out of your own apartment.”
His admission freezes me in my seat. Of course she told him. My face burns up and I turn away, staring out the passenger window at absolutely nothing, just needing to not look at him right now.
He knows. They all know that I got kicked out, that I’m so pathetic I couldn’t even keep a job.
The shame is suffocating.
“I don’t need your pity,” I manage, and my voice comes out sharper than I intended.
“Good.” Noel’s response is immediate. “Because I’m not giving you any.”
That has me turning toward him.
He’s watching me and he’s right; his expression isn’t pitying. It’s… understanding. Maybe even angry on my behalf.
“But you don’t have to be so stubborn,” he continues. “Or hide when you need help. That’s not weakness, Hannah. That’s just being human.”
My throat tightens. I want to argue, to insist that I’m fine, that I don’t need anyone. But I’m so tired of lying.
“What’s going on?” he asks quietly. “Talk to me.”
I take a breath. Hold it until my lungs burn. Let it out slowly.
“This is really hard for me,” I finally say, and my voice cracks on the words.
“I’ve always been the strong one. Always.
When Mom died, I was fourteen, and suddenly I had to be the adult for Lily.
I took care of her while Dad worked doubles at the diner, made sure we ate and helped her with her homework and didn’t fall apart.
I held the bakery together when we had no idea what we were doing.
I kept everything running so Dad didn’t have to worry, so he could just focus on keeping us fed and housed. ”
Noel doesn’t interrupt. Just listens, his hand resting on the console between us.
“And I was good at it,” I continue. “Being strong and the one who had all the answers. Making sure everyone else was okay.” My hands are trembling. “But now it’s all falling apart, and I don’t know how to not be that person. I don’t know how to ask for help or to admit I’m falling apart.”
“You just did,” Noel says softly.
I glance at him, and there’s something in his expression that leaves me smiling.
He reaches over, places his hand on my thigh. His palm is warm, grounding, real. He squeezes gently. “You’re allowed to need people, Hannah. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you brave for admitting it.”
“Doesn’t feel brave.”
“The bravest thing you can do is let someone help carry the weight.” His thumb strokes small circles against my leg, and the simple touch is almost too much. “You’ve been holding up everyone around you for years. Let someone hold you up for a change.”
No words come.
“Besides,” Noel continues, “it makes more sense for you to stay somewhere in Whispering Grove rather than out of town if you’re building your business.
Lily lives over an hour outside of town, in the mountains.
You’d be driving constantly, wasting time and gas and energy.
Staying with us, you’re ten minutes from downtown.
From clients. From everything you need to succeed. ”
I stare at him, and my brain is already running through the logistics despite my emotional resistance. He’s right. It’s completely, frustratingly logical.
Lily’s house is beautiful but isolated. Every client meeting, every site visit, every supplier consultation would require driving over two hours round trip. I’d be exhausted before I even started working.
“Is that really a good idea?” I ask slowly. “An unmated Omega living with three Alphas under one roof?”
The question hangs in the air between us.
“We’re all well behaved.” His grin flashes in the darkness, but there’s sincerity underneath.
“Can’t speak for Corn Dog, but the rest of us have self-control.
We’ve got a nest room, fully stocked, completely private.
We’ll never enter without your explicit invitation.
You’d have your own space, your own sanctuary. ”
A nest room? Very modern of them. Very progressive. Which makes me wonder—are they planning to find an Omega for their pack? Is that why they built it? Have they been searching, and I’m just convenient timing?
My stomach twists uncomfortably.
“What have you got to lose?” Noel asks.
Everything, my brain whispers. My control. My independence. My carefully constructed walls that keep me safe from being hurt.
But out loud I say, “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair enough.” He nods, accepting. “But tonight, stay over. Save yourself the drive. Plus, I just bought this incredible imported ice cream, Italian, aged in bourbon barrels, costs more than it should, and I’m breaking into it tonight. You can help me demolish it.”
Despite everything, the emotional exhaustion and fear and confusion, I smile. “Tempting me with ice cream?”
“Solid strategy, right?”
I look at this huge Alpha who spent the evening defending me to my terrible relatives, who stayed close when I was drowning, who sees me struggling and doesn’t run away.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For tonight. For everything. I’ll think about moving in.
I promise.” I twist my hands together. “But I want to visit Scot’s uncle in the morning.
Super early so I can catch him. I don’t have my car here, and I need to see him before he’s fully poisoned against me.
Last chance to convince him to sell me the business instead of his nephew. ”
“I’ll drive you,” Noel answers. “And I’ll come with you. Feel better having backup in case Scot shows up. Chris told us what a jackass he is.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, unfurling like sunlight. “That might be nice, actually.”
“Perfect.” He starts the truck, and the engine rumbles to life. “Ice cream awaits. And trust me, it’s worth staying for.”
We pull away from the curb, and I’m watching him as he drives. The streetlights play across his face, highlighting his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way his hair falls past his shoulders.
He’s so different from anyone I’ve ever known. Dangerous and gentle all at once.
“So,” I say, needing to fill the comfortable silence. “Have you always wanted to be a bounty hunter?”
His jaw tightens slightly, just a small tell. “No. Actually almost quit early on.”
“What happened?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I watch him gather his thoughts. “One of my first jobs. I was twenty-one, stupid, thought I could handle anything alone. Went after a target who seemed low-risk, small-time fraud, nothing violent in his history. Should’ve been easy.”
“But it wasn’t.”
His hands grip the wheel tighter, knuckles going white. “I found him at a gas station outside Denver. Thought I’d just walk up, explain the situation, bring him in peacefully. But he panicked. Pulled a gun I didn’t know he had. Started shooting.”
My stomach drops. “Oh, shit.”
“There was a clerk working the night shift. Woman, maybe forty-five. She was restocking cigarettes behind the counter.” His voice goes flat, emotionless in a way that means he’s likely feeling too much.
“He shot her. Three times. She died before the ambulance arrived, and I blamed myself for years. Thought if I’d waited for backup, if I’d approached differently, if I’d been better at my job, she’d still be alive. ”
Without thinking, I reach over and place my hand on his thigh. The muscle flexes under my touch, solid and warm and real. “That’s not your fault,” I say firmly. “You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t make him bring a gun. You didn’t force him to shoot.”
“Took me a long time to believe that.” He glances at me, and there’s old pain in his eyes, scars that haven’t fully healed.
“Kane finally talked me down. We’d already started working together, and he spent weeks drilling it into my head that I can’t control what other people do.
I can only control my own actions, my own choices.
I can’t take responsibility for someone else’s decision to kill. ”
“It sounds like Kane saved you.”
“He did. He and Chris both.” The tension in his shoulders eases slightly as he talks.
“They convinced me not to walk away. Told me I could either quit and let the guilt win, or I could channel it into something better. Use it as motivation to save as many people as possible. Honor her death by preventing others.”
“It’s good you stayed,” I say.
“Yeah. We changed everything about how we work, always go in teams now, never take unnecessary risks, plan every detail before moving. And in the last few years, we’ve brought back over two hundred targets.
Helped put away some really dangerous people.
Made the world safer, even if it’s just a little bit. ”
“That’s incredible.” I squeeze his thigh gently, wanting him to feel supported the way he’s been supporting me. “You should be proud of what you’ve built.”