54. Noelle #3
Nate scoffed. “He won’t stick around. Men don’t want”—he pointed to the cane—“that. He’ll move on.
Have you seen the women he dated?” He whistled in appreciation.
“You don’t come anywhere close. The girl next door is a nice time but not endgame.
Take your fifteen minutes and move on with your life. ”
The words curled over in my mind, trying to find a crevice to latch onto. It was the same old lie in new packaging. I’d believed the lie at nineteen when my mom told me Cal only valued me for what I did. At thirty-two, I wasn’t the same girl. And I wasn’t swallowing the lie. Not this time.
My watchdog, a.k.a. Juliet, had slipped away at some point.
Odd, but I didn’t need backup. I knew exactly what I wanted to say to this man.
No more burying feelings or buying into the idea that I needed to manage other people’s perceptions of me.
I had value as a person. Not because of what I could or couldn’t do.
But because God said I mattered. Cal said he loved me, and I believed him. That was good enough for me.
“No, Nate. I’m exactly where I need to be.
And if you want something to write, write this.
I love him. Not because of something he did or because he’s famous, but because I fell in love with the boy who could make me laugh until I cried over algebra homework, who remembered I loved butterflies and sunflowers, and kept lotion in his car because he knew I always needed it.
He could lose his job tomorrow and that wouldn’t change. ”
“Are you confirming or denying the rumours he might be called up to Seattle?”
I swallowed hard. This wasn’t something Cal and I had fully discussed yet, though it had come up in passing. Where we lived didn’t matter to me; I’d happily follow him anywhere. But that was between us. “No comment,” I said sweetly.
Nate’s eyes widened at something behind me.
What . . .? A muscular arm looped around my waist, holding me close, and the familiar musky cologne filled my nose. Cal. I immediately relaxed into him.
“Everything all right, sweetheart?” Cal asked in a deceptively calm tone.
I arched an eyebrow in challenge at Nate. “He was just leaving.”
Nate ignored me—big surprise—and held his hand out to Cal. “Nate Perkins with the New York Record. Big fan of your work.”
Cal didn’t shake the offered hand, his face masked. Not unlike how he looked when he was on the ice, ready to go down swinging. It didn’t get more attractive than that. “Nasty Nate?” he murmured in my ear, and I barely refrained from snorting. Gosh, I loved this man and his humour.
Nate wilted a fraction, dropping his hand, but the cockroach quickly rallied. “So, Cal, the world’s been taken with your new romance. Quite the ladies’ man.” He grinned knowingly, in a disgusting bro-club way. “You clearly have a type.”
Cal’s grip on me tightened. “Smart, beautiful, and kind? Yes, I do.”
Nate barked a laugh. “Right, right. Gotta say what the lady wants to hear. But we know the truth.”
Cal’s hand shot out, grabbing the front of Nate’s tailored shirt. “Listen very closely,” he said firmly.
“Cal, don’t,” I protested weakly. “He’s not worth it.”
“I know he isn’t, sweetheart.” Cal’s steady blue gaze bored into me. “But you are.” Ice cloaked his eyes as he faced Nate again.
Nate either lacked survival skills or forgot them alongside his manners because he opened his mouth and continued yapping like a socialite’s purse dog.
“Given the line of women you’ve dated, something else stands out—you have a saviour complex.
A thing for broken women, the damsels in distress. First, Izzy and then Noelle—”
CRUNCH.
Blood geysered from Nate’s no-longer-perfect nose.
Cal wrung out his hand. “Don’t you dare talk about my girlfriend like that,” he growled. “Now get out of here, and if I get even a whiff of you hanging around, I will sue you for harassment.”
And look, I didn’t condone senseless violence. But that display? I was metaphorically fanning my face. Spread me like butter over waffles, but chivalry was hot.
Dallas, bless him, clapped a heavy hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Time’s up.” And the two brothers marched the sniveling reporter—still holding his nose—down the street.
My hands shook as I watched them go, the whooshing blood in my ears quieting into a low hum. Tightness clamped my lungs. You’re okay. You did it. I stood up for myself. I didn’t make myself smaller for someone else’s convenience. Didn’t let them walk on me.
Too bad my body couldn’t recognize bravery as a good thing. Instead, the adrenaline crash roared through my veins, making me woozy. You’d think I’d just fought off a mountain lion instead of having a conversation with an ex.
But my body had been on the edge of crashing all day. Nate running his mouth was the proverbial straw to break the camel’s back. This was going to tip me over the edge if I didn’t find a quiet spot to catch my breath.
Leaning heavily on my cane, I limped around the corner. The words and accusations stuck to my skin like uncomfortable burrs, but I didn’t feel their sting. I knew the beauty of the truth.
And I wasn’t settling for the counterfeit lies anymore.