33. Cal
Chapter thirty-three
Cal
I burst into the diner ready to rain down fire, scanning the crowd. My pulse thundered in my ears. Where is she?
The curly blonde head at the counter in the back corner snagged my attention. My feet flew across the room till I was at her side. “Elle.”
She turned. “What . . . oh!”
I wrapped her in a hug, holding her close, breathing in the smell of her tropical shampoo. She’s okay. I repeated the words over and over in my head, burying my face in her hair. Feeling her sag against me.
“Why are you here?” she whispered.
“Marcel texted me.” Something I didn’t know was humanly possible.
The man abhorred most technology. There was a reason he didn’t handle the TV remote at the diner after they upgraded to flat screens—that TV had been stuck on the weather channel for eight days straight.
And I had no idea how he got my number. Somehow that fit his persona.
“He’s such a softy,” Noelle said with a chuckle. “Like Joe from The Princess Diaries.”
Agreed. Though not many would believe that about the grizzly, tattooed bartender who was allergic to a razor and stood as tall as my shoulder.
I pulled back just enough to see her eyes. I scanned her face, memorizing her. Checking for any hint of a lie that she wasn’t okay. She didn’t appear worse for wear, but her eyes were tired.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Denver happened. But Marcel went all ninja and then fired him. It was glorious. I wish I’d caught it on tape. The shakedown, not the conversation with Denver. He . . . made me feel cheap,” she whispered, resting her forehead against my shoulder.
“C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”
I tucked her against my side and led her through the crowd.
Let them talk, let them video. I was taking care of my girl.
The second the text came in I’d scooped a sleeping Khia into the car and driven down here as fast as I dared.
Khia was still zonked out in her car seat when I opened the passenger door for Noelle.
“Wanna tell me about it?” I asked after hopping in.
She shook her head. “It isn’t worth repeating.”
“That bad?”
She made a face. “It’s Denver. What do you think?”
“He should have been fired a long time ago. He’s got a reputation.”
The dark landscape lit by intermittent streetlights whizzed past the windows. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “I’ve handled my share of guys like that, but . . . it still always makes me feel gross.”
“No one should have to go through that.”
We were quiet the rest of the drive, and once I pulled into my driveway, she tried to open her door, but I laid a hand on her knee. “Wait a sec.”
I jogged around to open her door.
“Thanks,” she whispered, sliding out.
I cupped her shoulder and hooked a finger under her chin, tilting it up so our eyes met. “You sure you’re okay, Elle?”
Without hesitating, Noelle slid her arms around my waist and leaned against me. I hugged her back tightly, her nose brushing my neck. She sighed heavily like the stress was leaving her body and relaxed against my chest.
“Your touch makes me forget his,” she murmured into my shoulder.
The words set fire to my blood, and my grip on her tightened. I would do anything for this woman.
We stood there for a long time. Her arms around my waist, my arm around her back, my other hand cupping the back of her head. Just holding onto each other. It was the best hug I’d had in a long time.
“I’ll take a few more boxing lessons, if the offer still stands.”
“Consider it done.”
It could have been minutes or an hour; either way, she stepped away too soon. “Thanks for coming, Cal.”
“I’ll always come for you, Elle,” I said roughly, swallowing hard. “I should have come for you back then. I’ll always regret that I didn’t.”
She smiled sadly. “A wise man told me to acknowledge our mistakes but not to give the devil the reins to let our regrets eat us alive.”
“Wise words.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sometimes it’s harder to give grace to ourselves than it is to others.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” she huffed lightly, then she reached up and brushed a loose hair off my forehead. “I’m glad you’re here now,” she said softly.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Noelle’s fingers lingered on my face. My cheek. Then she kissed my jaw. “Me, too.”
She slipped up the single porch stair, but I caught her hand, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. Her brown eyes, now level with mine, swirled with questions in the dim porch light.
“Do you believe in second chances?” The question had been burning my mind since I’d laid eyes on her at the photo shoot. It was an answer to prayer, and yet . . . I needed to know where she stood. Where we stood.
Noelle smiled sadly. “For other people, sure.”
“What about us? Do we deserve a second shot?”
“Cal, after I hurt you, how can you even want that? I don’t deserve it.”
“Maybe let me weigh in on that decision,” I said, leaning close enough to feel her warmth but not touching her. “If I asked you out on a date, would you say yes?” I asked hoarsely, my heart pulsing in my chest like a Kentucky Derby winner.
“Maybe.” Her smile was sweet. The smile of the girl I remembered—my best friend.
“Holiday.”
“Why don’t you ask and see?”
I leaned even closer, lowering my voice. “Will you, Noelle Shepherd, go out on a date with me tomorrow night?”
Her answer was immediate. “I will.” She bit her lip. “Where?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” I tutted. “If I tell you I’ve got it all planned and handled, will you trust me?”
She froze, and I read the war on her face. Going with the flow and not being in control weren’t Noelle’s favourite things. I knew this about younger Noelle, and it seemed to still be true. But after a moment, she softened.
“I will.”
“Thank you.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ll text you the details. Rest up and take it easy with Khia tomorrow, okay?”
Her eyes widened in the dark, whether from the kiss or my take-charge attitude, I wasn’t sure. Buckle up, sweetheart, there’s more where that came from.
I grinned at her. “Till tomorrow, Miss Shepherd.”