41. Zoey
ZOEY
I chewed on my bottom lip, shoulders hunched as I sat on the couch next to Noah. Guilt gnawed at my stomach. Not because I blamed myself, but because George was such a pain in the ass to everyone.
“Could it have been a rival gym that vandalized your place?” I asked, even though I wholeheartedly believed it was George.
Noah shook his head. “Boxing is competitive, but gyms don’t stoop that low to sabotage each other.”
A knock sounded at the door. Noah went to answer it and returned with Chief Warman. The stern look on the police chief’s face made my pulse quicken.
“We interrogated the man arrested for trying to break in here,” Warman said gruffly. “James Gray. Turns out he owed money to George. Did this job to clear his debt.”
“Did he say anything else?” Noah asked.
“Claims George sent him a burner phone with instructions and where to pick up the weapon. He was told his wife and newborn would be hurt if he didn’t comply. George had pictures of them.”
A chill ran down my spine. George had stooped to threatening a baby to get what he wanted. Would this ever end?
Noah wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.
I resisted the urge to push him away, even though I couldn’t deny that his strength and protectiveness made me feel safer.
I wanted to put all my trust in him—and part of me did trust him—but after what George had put me through, it didn’t come easy.
“We’ll get him, Zoey,” Noah said. “He won’t keep getting away with this.”
Warman cleared his throat. “Zoey, you should get in touch with your lawyer about all this. Keep her updated. Every contact from George is another mark against him legally.”
“I will,” I replied. “Thank you, Chief.”
When Warman left, I turned to Noah, my stomach tied in knots. “I’m so sorry about all this.”
Noah opened his mouth to protest, but I held up a hand. “Please, let me get this out. I’m not trying to take the blame for George’s actions. I hate that he targeted your business and is causing problems for you, for Kyler, for the kids who train there...”
Tears welled in my eyes. The gym meant so much to Noah. It was his life’s work, his purpose. It gutted me that George had vandalized it and destroyed the equipment. Those kids relied on the place. Ro relied on the place. Now their second home had been violated.
Noah rubbed soothing circles on my back. “You have nothing to apologize for, you hear me? Nothing. This is all on George.”
I clung to him, finding comfort in his scent and his warmth. In his arms, I could almost believe we’d make it through this nightmare. That he could keep the broken pieces of my heart safe.
“We’ll recover,” Noah said against my hair. “We’ll figure out a way to keep training the kids. This is only a temporary setback. I won’t let him steal this from those kids.”
Noah’s determination bolstered my own. George had taken so much from me already—my confidence, my sense of security—I couldn’t bear him doing the same to others. To Noah.
Raising my head, I met his piercing blue gaze. “You’re right. We can’t let him win. I won’t let him destroy the amazing work you’re doing here.”
Noah’s lips quirked into a smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “That’s my brave Zoey.”
I wanted to believe him with every fiber of my being. To trust in his strength, his protection. But I knew all too well what George was capable of. We had to be ready for anything.
“Mommy, Noah, I’m starving.” Ro raced into the kitchen with the unstoppable energy only an eight-year-old could muster this early in the morning. “Can we make bacon and pancakes? Pretty please?”
Noah chuckled. “Hmm, I don’t know, buddy. You think you can handle flipping the pancakes all by yourself?”
Ro puffed out his small chest, a determined glint in his eye. “Of course I can. I’m a pancake-flipping master!”
My heart swelled watching them together, the easy banter, the genuine affection. Ro had been through so much, yet here he was, finding joy in the simplest things.
“Well then, Master Ro, looks like you’re in charge of the pancakes.” I ruffled his sleep-mussed hair. “I’ll handle the bacon if Noah will start whisking the batter.”
“On it,” Noah replied with a wink, already reaching for a large mixing bowl.
As the three of us moved around the kitchen, I loved the domesticity of it all.
The warmth and laughter, the sense of belonging.
It was everything I’d ever wanted but never dared to dream I could have.
Especially not after George. But here, with Noah and Ro, I could almost believe that happiness was within reach.
“No way, Noah,” Ro’s indignant voice pulled me from my musings. “You gotta make the bacon super crispy. That’s the right way to do it.”
Fighting back a grin, Noah held up his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right, crispy bacon it is. I bow to your superior breakfast wisdom, little man.”
I savored every moment, etching this precious memory into my heart. George might be lurking in the shadows, but he couldn’t touch this. Couldn’t taint the love and laughter present in this sunlit kitchen.
After we finished our hearty breakfast, Ro was practically vibrating with pent-up energy. He bounced on his toes, grinning up at us with those big, pleading eyes that were impossible to resist.
“Can we go to the park? Please, Mom? Noah? I wanna run around and play on the jungle gym.”
I glanced at Noah in question. He nodded, but I didn’t miss the concern in his eyes.
“Sure thing, buddy,” he said. “A trip to the park sounds perfect. Go get dressed while your mom and I clean up here?”
“Yes!” Ro jumped up and down before dashing off to his room.
Noah and I shared a glance, then started chuckling.
The park was alive with the laughter and shouts of children when we arrived. Ro took off like a shot, making a beeline for the monkey bars while Noah and I settled on a nearby bench to watch him.
But as the minutes ticked by, a prickle of unease crept up my spine. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching us. It was like a tangible weight on my skin.
I shifted closer to Noah and gripped his hand. “Noah,” I whispered, “do you feel that? Like someone’s watching us?”
Noah’s hand tightened around mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin. “I do.” He glanced around. “But I don’t see anyone suspicious. Our instincts are on high alert.”
I tried to take comfort in his words. But the fear continued to churn in my gut, a cold, slithering thing that refused to be ignored.
“You’re probably right.” I attempted a smile that was brittle on my lips. “I might just be paranoid. But with George still out there...”
Noah turned to face me fully, an intense sincerity blazing in his blue eyes. “Zoey, listen to me. Your instincts are valid. Don’t ever discount them.” He cupped my cheek, his touch achingly tender. “George could have eyes and ears anywhere in this town. It’s not paranoia if the threat is real.”
“I hate this,” I whispered, my vision blurring with unshed tears. “I hate that he’s still controlling my life, even now.”
Noah pressed a kiss to my forehead, a silent promise. “He won’t be for much longer. We’ll make sure of that.” He looked over at Ro. “I’m going to take a quick walk around the park, see if I can spot anything out of the ordinary. Will you be all right here for a few minutes?”
Part of me wanted to beg him to stay, to not leave me alone with my spiraling thoughts. But I pulled myself together and nodded. “I’ll be fine,” I mustered a more-convincing smile. “Go. I’ll keep an eye on Ro.”
As Noah strode off, I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders. I was done letting George dictate my life and my emotions. If he was watching, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.
Instead, I focused on the good things—Ro and the delight on his face as he played; the warmth of the sun against my skin and the distant strains of birdsong; the knowledge that I was not alone, that I had Noah and a fierce, loyal pack protecting me.
And so I sat there, head held high, until Noah returned. He slid onto the bench beside me and draped his arm around my shoulders.
“I didn’t see anyone,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I think we’re in the clear.”
Relief rushed through me, dizzying in its intensity. I turned to Noah, my hand finding his cheek, guiding his lips to mine in a soft, sweet kiss.
“Noah, can you take me to the gym? I want to see the damage.”
Noah hesitated. “Are you sure, Zoey? It’s not pretty.”
“I need to see it.”
He heaved out a sigh. “All right. Let’s go.”
We called Ro over, then drove to the gym. Noah’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. My heart thudded erratically.
As we pulled up to the gym, my heart sank. The windows were shattered, and graffiti marred the walls. Noah helped me out of the car, his hand a steadying presence at the small of my back as we walked inside.
The sight that greeted us was worse than I could have imagined. Broken equipment littered the floor, the padding on the walls shredded and torn. Ro gasped, his eyes wide as he took in the destruction.
“Oh, Noah,” I whispered, my heart breaking for him. “I’m so sorry.”
Noah shook his head. “It’s not your fault. This is all on George.”
Ro, bless his heart, immediately set to work, sorting through the scattered pads and equipment. “These ones are okay, Noah,” he announced, starting a pile of undamaged items. “We can still use these.”
Noah and I shared a smile despite the situation. We joined Ro, sifting through the debris, separating the salvageable from the ruined. It was tedious work, but there was something cathartic about it. It was like I was taking back control in the face of George’s cruelty.
Ro held up a pair of gloves, a hopeful grin on his face. “Hey, Noah, these and some of the pads are still good. Maybe you could give me a lesson?”