55. Cal
Chapter fifty-five
Cal
The bellyaching leech was gone.
I’d have escorted him all the way to the police station, but Dallas waved me off with a “Go see Elle. I can handle this.”
Don’t need to tell me twice.
Only she wasn’t where I’d left her. I scanned the busy street, now teeming with life and curious onlookers. Let them look. I meant every word. Where is she?
Juliet was closest so I started there.
“Where’s Noelle?” I demanded.
My sister stared at me. “She was just here.”
“I passed her walking towards the church,” Paisley added, coming up to us and looping an arm around Juliet. “I called her name, but she seemed dazed. And she was limping pretty badly.”
“Thanks.” I jogged away. Was she okay? Had that man hurt her? I hesitated calling him a man because he was more of a rodent than anything. A spoiled brat. An immature jellyfish. A spineless toad. Wait, toads had spines. Apologies to toads everywhere for the comparison.
“Noelle!” I hollered to a hunched figure perched on the front stairs of the church.
Her head popped up, and that little furrow deepened in her forehead. “Why are you yelling?”
“Woman, if you think I’m going to let you walk away from me a second time before I kiss some sense into you, you’ve got another think coming!”
She blinked, wide-eyed. Good, I’d gotten through to her.
“Cal, I wasn’t running,” she whispered. “I just . . . that felt good. But also kinda terrifying. I needed to sit and breathe for a minute. But I wasn’t running.”
Oh. Maybe I had overreacted just a tad. My chest heaved when I reached her. Relief mixed with pride poured through me. “You stood up for yourself and set a boundary. I’m proud of you. And nothing he said was true.”
“I know,” Noelle said, sincerity ringing in the words. “His words don’t matter to me when I know the truth.” She offered a mirthless smile. “I’m just sorry this ruined the mood.”
“Hey.” I crouched in front of her, bringing us eye level. “You aren’t responsible for his poor behaviour.” I touched her shoulder. Her whole body was vibrating. “Are you okay?”
“Adrenaline crash.” She grimaced. “I’ll be fine.”
“Elle.”
“I could have done without seeing him, but that moment was freeing. He tried to use the same lies my mom did.” Her face grew pensive. “But I’m different. I’m not the victim anymore. They don’t get to dictate my value.”
This woman. I’d loved Noelle the girl, but the woman? She’d grown and blossomed in ways I could have never imagined. We’d both grown. And now we could grow together.
She brushed at her jeans. “Nothing he said I haven’t said to myself—”
“Elle. You can’t talk that way about someone who’s so special to me.”
“Let me finish,” she said gently. “I used to repeat the lies over and over until they were a second skin. A part of me. But that’s just it. They were lies. I needed to replace them with truth.”
“And I’ll keep reminding you of that truth. Every day. You’ll be sick of me,” I promised. “You’re not broken, Elle.”
“No, but I am a mess. We all are. And that’s okay.” She cupped my cheek. “Because I’d rather be a mess with you, growing and letting Jesus use that mess to change us for the better, than be perfect with anyone else.”
That deserved a kiss because I couldn’t have said it better myself. So I obliged, pressing a lingering kiss to her pink lips. “You, me, and Jesus—sounds like the adventure of a lifetime.”
She laughed, free and clear. I’d never get tired of the sound. “Is your hand okay?”
“Perfectly fine. He wasn’t exactly physically intimidating.”
“We can’t all be like you.”
I grinned. “What? Big, strong, respectful, handsome, an excellent kisser—”
“You know it, so I’m not stoking your ego.”
“Just a little, Holiday?”
She laughed again, exactly as I hoped.
“C’mon.” I tugged her to her feet. “This festival needs you.” I paused. “Actually, they’re running smoothly. How about you sneak away with me? Because I need you.”
“Callan,” she scolded, but interest lit her eyes. “I have a job to do. And I’m worried Nate might have ruined the atmosphere with”—she flapped a hand—“all that.”
“Noelle.” I lightly pinched her chin, tilting her face up. “Don’t you see it? This town loves you. You don’t have to earn their love. You’ve got it. You belong.” Leaning down, I kissed her gently.
Her arms slid around my waist, and she leaned against me. “Thank you.”
“For punching that bag of candy corn? It was my sincere pleasure.”
She snorted. “Candy corn?”
“It’s the nastiest thing I could think of right now.”
“Don’t hate on fall tradition.”
“Sweetheart, if that’s a tradition, you need better ones.”
She shook her head, lips curved in a smile. “I meant thank you for not giving up on me.”
I kissed the tip of her nose. “I never will.”