Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Noelle
“What are your options again?” Val asks over the phone.
“Murder the next-door neighbor and hide the body,” I joke, but it falls flat. Not because it’s a bad joke, but because I’m too pissed off to find any of this funny. I don’t actually want to kill Jacob, but right now, I’m so angry I could scream. What the fuck was he thinking?
Obviously, he wasn’t thinking—and that’s the problem. There’s no way I can get Mr. Oswald to back off. I’ve been trying to call him, but his assistant says he has “nothing to discuss with me.” Seriously? My dad told me to lay low, to move out of the apartment for a bit, so here I am, on a train, on my way back to Maple Ridge.
My boss agreed to let me work remotely for the next month, as long as I keep everything for the gala running smoothly. That part’s easy. I can make calls, send emails, and organize most things from my parents’ place. Of course, there are two problems with this plan.
One, I’ll have to pay for faster internet—my parents’ Wi-Fi is basically nineties-dial-up cue You Got Mail sound. And two, I’ll have to deal with Chad and Eleanor. Oh, and let’s not forget the whole town.
“You can’t maim your neighbor,” Val says and I wish I could wipe the amusement in her voice. “Especially when you two . . . Wait, are you two still together?”
I open my mouth, then close it. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m not exactly convenient anymore.”
“But you didn’t break up with him after his little stunt, did you?” she asks then add. “Why do you think he did it?”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “He wanted me out since I arrived. It’s probably something he did a couple of months ago. We both know Mr. Oswald doesn’t pay attention to anything for weeks, sometimes months. Remember when Grandma had to wait almost a year for him to fix her stove?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she groans. “Holiday break, I come home, and Grandma’s taken over my room—forever. Love the woman, but she’s not exactly the world’s best roommate. So, what are you doing with Jacob?”
I laugh, but my frustration is still simmering. “Not sure. Am I going to let it go easily? Absolutely not. He’s going to have to grovel, but I’m not breaking up with him just because he’s a very smart idiot.”
Val laughs. “Why do you think he did it?”
“He hated the decorations so much he tried to get me kicked out,” I complain, my heart racing as my mind spins with frustration.
Seriously, what was he thinking? He could’ve just shoved Frosty into a trash can. Or if Jack Skellington bothered him that much, he could’ve given him away. But snitching? Snitching because he couldn’t deal with a few decorations? That’s just . . . pathetic.
I swear if I ever see him again, he’s going to get a piece of my mind. It’s not like he’s going to come and visit me in Maple Ridge, or like I’ll be able to find a place to live so I can continue working in New York. Unless . . . I could call his friend, Emmersyn. She told me that if I ever needed a job, she’d give it to me and benefits would include a lot, maybe even housing.
“Move to California,” Valentina suggests for what feels like the hundredth time since the Chad debacle.
“You sound like Grandma. She keeps telling me to follow her to Costa Rica,” I say, shaking my head.
“That’s too far from me,” Val complains.
“You could always move back home,” I suggest, even though I already know her answer.
“Where everyone knows my name and gets all up in my business? Yeah, no thanks,” Val replies with a snort.
“This is why New York was perfect,” I mutter. “But of course, he had to go and ruin it.”
The train slows as we approach Maple Ridge station, and I feel a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. As much as I love my hometown, coming back always stirs up mixed emotions. I grab my bag, say goodbye to Val, and step off the train, bracing myself for small-town life again.
I barely have time to adjust to the crisp air when I see him.
Jacob McCallister. Standing there on the platform, holding a bouquet of poinsettias in one hand and a paper cup in the other.
My heart stutters. Of course, it does. Why does he have to look so damn good? The cold air makes his cheeks slightly flushed, and the sight of him, all tall and broody, waiting for me with flowers? It’s . . . swoon-worthy. There’s no denying that.
But then, reality sets in. I’m still mad. No, I’m furious. He’s standing here like everything’s fine, like he didn’t just get me evicted from my apartment. My mind is racing, torn between melting at the sight of him and remembering why I’m here in the first place.
I stop a few feet away from him, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to keep my heart from betraying me.
“Why are you here? In Maple Ridge?” I ask, my voice edged with disbelief, even though part of me—the very traitorous part—can’t help but soften. He’s here.
Jacob shifts awkwardly, holding out the poinsettias, his jaw tight. “Yeah. I figured I owed you more than just a phone call.”
I glance at the flowers, then back at him, my heart doing a ridiculous flip. Of course he brought flowers—Christmassy ones at that. “They’re . . . decoration flowers.”
“I know, Christmas is coming,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you could use something to smother your parents with the spirit of the holidays, make them happy.”
That’s adorable, but I resist him. I won’t be listening to this nonsense.
“Why are you here?” I insist again, trying to keep the edge in my voice, even though he’s standing in front of me with that sincere look, making it difficult to stay mad.
“To beg you to forgive me for being such an idiot,” he says, the words tumbling out as he steps closer. “I wasn’t thinking straight . . . I let my anger take over, and now . . . I just want you to come home with me, please.”
The way he pleads for me to go back is adorable but I can’t and since it’s not up for discussion I deviate the conversation. “How did you know I was here? Or get here before me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugs, glancing away for a second before meeting my eyes again. “I spoke with your grandmother,” he admits, sheepishly. “She told me where you were. And helicopters are faster.” He gives a half-smile. “If you’d picked up my calls, I would’ve given you a ride or convinced you to stay home with me.”
“Home with you?” I snort. “I’m currently homeless, thanks to you.”
“I’m working on it,” Jacob says, his voice calm but determined. “But in the meantime, you can stay with me.”
“Nope,” I reply, shaking my head. “I don’t know you well enough to move in with you, even temporarily. This time was supposed to be for us to get to know each other, and I guess . . . it’s over.”
“It’s not over,” he insists, his tone a mix of frustration and pleading.
“Then how do you propose we work this out, Jacob?” I challenge, crossing my arms. “You’ll be in the city, I’ll be here, and we’ll never see each other again. That’s not exactly a great plan. It doesn’t scream romance, does it?”
His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, I forget to be mad. “We make it work,” he says firmly. “I’ll visit you, you’ll visit me in the city, and this whole thing is temporary while I fix my fuckup.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying not to let the softness in his voice get to me. “And how exactly are you going to fix it?”
He shrugs, a little sheepishly. “I’m working on it, trust me.”
“Trust you? After everything that happened today?” My skepticism is palpable.
“Yes.” The way he says it all bossy and sure of himself makes me wonder what he’s up to.
I sigh, still unsure, but the wall I’ve been building starts to crack just a little.
It must be all the encouragement Jacob needs. He steps even closer, his hand gently cradling my face, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek. And before I can second-guess myself, his lips are on mine.
The kiss is deep, warm, and slow, like he’s taking his time—making sure I feel every bit of the apology that he can’t put into words. His other hand moves to the small of my back, pulling me closer, and for a moment, I melt against him, all the tension and anger slipping away.
It’s the kind of kiss that erases time, where the rest of the world disappears. His lips are soft but firm, sending little sparks through my body, igniting something I’ve been holding back. My fingers slide into his hair, and I kiss him back with everything I’ve been feeling—frustration, longing, maybe even forgiveness.