Chapter 12 Noelle #3
Eli watches his movie, curled up in a blanket, a mug of cocoa cupped between his small hands that he eventually exchanges for a bottle of water and a candy cane Dean stole from the concierge’s desk downstairs.
Around dinner time, Grant returns with takeout from the diner down the street, his gaze lingering on me the entire time.
I know they all want to ask questions, just like they did when Jared came around, but I’m too emotionally and mentally drained.
My chest is heavy, my mind far away.
In the back of my mind, all I can think about is Evelyn’s voice creeping back in. “I better see you bringing him to my house by next weekend, or else you know what will happen.”
When I finally tuck Eli into bed, I linger beside him longer than usual.
Watching his little chest rise and fall, I let the silence fill the room again, hoping maybe by morning, I’ll wake up and the world will feel a little less like a shit show.
But deep down, I know better.
My karma would never make things that simple.
With a soft exhale, I pull the blanket higher over his shoulder and slide off the bed.
The floor creaks beneath my bare feet as I cross over to the door.
I hesitate, glancing back once more at him before I step into the adjoining room and pull the door shut behind me.
The sound of the TV is faint. A hockey game plays on the screen, some local teams I don’t recognize, but it’s obvious none of them are actually watching it.
Dean’s perched on the edge of the armchair closest to the door, a bottle of beer in hand that he’s barely touched.
Grant sits at the far end of the couch, elbows braced on his knees, his broad shoulders tense.
Callum’s sitting on the opposite end, one arm draped over the back of the chair, his gaze flicking to me the second the door clicks shut.
They don’t say anything, not right away, but I can feel the questions hanging in the air.
Questions they’ve been holding onto since Jared’s sudden appearance, since the moment Evelyn started berating me just like her son loves to do.
I fold my arms over my chest instinctively, aware of how small I suddenly feel.
Grant leans back against the couch, his expression unreadable but his eyes gentle in that quiet, steady way of his. “You okay?”
I let out a soft laugh, but it sounds thin and brittle even to me. “Define ‘okay.’”
Callum pats the cushion between him and Grant, his expression calm but expectant.
“Come here,” he says gently, not quite a command but not a request either.
When I don’t move, his hand lingers in the air for a beat before falling back to his thigh.
He studies me for another long second, his jaw ticking once in quiet resignation, then he leans forward and reaches for the remote.
The TV goes silent with a single click.
“You don’t have to talk about anything, Noelle. But you also don’t have to deal with any of this alone either.”
My chest constricts, my breath catching as my eyes flick between the three of them. Something inside me tightens at that.
There’s worry written all over their faces in different shades.
Normally, this would be the moment I turn on my heel and retreat, duck back into the other room and shut th
e door behind me before they can coax more of the truth out of me. That’s what I’ve always done when compassion starts to feel like pressure, when kindness feels like a spotlight glaring down on everything I can’t admit.
But this time I don’t.
My legs stay rooted to the floor. The weight of the last twenty-four hours presses down on me.
It’s all just there, heavy and relentless. And maybe that’s why I can’t make myself move. Maybe I’m just too tired to keep running with no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel.
Maybe I’m just…over carrying all of this by myself like I always do. Of pretending that the weight doesn’t crush me sometimes.
That I’m fine being both the shield and the soft place for my son to land.
That I don’t wake up most nights choking on all the things I can’t say out loud.
I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat, blinking fast to keep the tears at bay. “Thank you…for earlier. For stepping in when you did. That…meant a lot to me.”
Grant’s the one who answers first. “You don’t need to thank us, Noelle. Neither of them have any right coming up to you like that. You shouldn’t have to thank anyone for being treated with respect.”
His dark blue eyes soften, the warmth in them cracking through his stoic facade.
His silver-threaded hair catches the light when he shifts again and for a moment, I’m back in that living room, his callused hands gentle against my skin, his gruff whispers turning my pleas into prayers.
I let out a shaky breath and stare down at my hands, tracing the seam of my sleeve with my thumb. “I know. But still…thank you.”
The words feel small, inadequate against the storm of emotions swirling within me.
It’s not just gratitude that I feel, it’s longing for things I can’t have.
From the weight of carrying these secrets that I’ve guarded for years to protect my dad and Eli. To protect them too from the fallout.
I look up again, meeting Grant’s eyes, then Callum’s, then Dean’s. Something shifts in the air, a spark igniting in the quiet.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper. “Being here, with you all…it’s too much.”
Callum lifts his hand again toward me. “You don’t have to think about it. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
But we all know that’s a lie.
I’m standing on the edge of something reckless, something I thought I’d left behind all those years ago.
But their closeness, their care even now when they have no obligation to show me any, pulls me under anyway.
I step toward Callum first, letting my hand brush along his. He tightens his hold around my fingers, tugging me into his lap.
I go willingly, letting myself fall because I have no choice to. My heart won’t let me walk away, not until business is finished.
My lips brush over his in a kiss that’s both an apology and an invitation. It’s soft at first, deepening within seconds as he responds to it. His hands cup my face, his touch hungry and yearning.
More hands touch me. They find my sensitive spots and caress over my curves. I pull back, breathless, and turn to Grant who’s already crowding close to us.
His blue eyes are dark with need, a storm contained in a man. I reach for him, and he meets me halfway, drawing my mouth against his.
His kiss is rougher and more desperate, his callused hands framing my face with a tenderness that unravels me instantly. His mouth claims mine with a growl that vibrates down to my core.
Dean’s fingers brush my arm from the other side, a quiet question.
When I groan, I’m turned toward him, my lips popping off Grant’s with a wet noise.
Dean’s hands are steady as he lifts my chin back to kiss me. I’m lost in the warmth of him, in the way his lips move against mine from above.
The room spins, and I’m back six years ago to where this all began. But since then, I’ve changed.
I’m not that girl anymore. I’m a mother, a survivor, and tonight I’m choosing this.
Choosing them despite the secrets and the fear that may just fuck us all over in the end.
We move as one, a dance of instinct and memory, their hands guiding me down onto the floor.
Callum’s fingers slip under my sweater, lifting it over my head to toss away.
The cool air kisses my skin as his hands trace the curves of my body, igniting shivers that ripple through me.
Grant’s lips find my neck, his breath hot and ragged as each kiss claims me. His teeth graze my pulse point, drawing a soft gasp from me.
Dean’s hands are steady when they unbutton my jeans.
His fingers brush over the sensitive skin of my hips as he pulls them down my thighs, his eyes locked on mine.
I nod with permission, my body humming with need as I spread my legs open.
Callum’s shirt comes off, revealing the lean muscle I remember.
I trace the lines of his chest, my fingers lingering on the familiar planes.
His breath hitches, his eyes dark with desire as he pulls me close, his hands finding the front of his jeans to pull them apart.
I groan at the sight of his cock springing free, hard and ready, and I open my mouth as an invitation, my lips parting with need.
He guides himself inside, letting out a soft noise the second my lips wrap around the head of him.
He rocks into my mouth, pressing deeper with each thrust. His hands thread through my hair as his low groans fill the room.
Grant finds my breasts, his thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks through the thin material of my bra, drawing a moan I can’t suppress.
The sound is muffled against Callum.
Grant lifts me just enough to unhook my bra, freeing me.
His large hands cup my breasts, the calluses rough against my skin as he teases the sensitive buds.
Dean tosses my pants the second he wrestles me free, his fingers slipping beneath my underwear to trace the curve of my hips.
They move lower, finding the heat of me.
His fingers are relentless, circling my clit and teasing me until I’m bucking up against his hand.
A chuckle leaves him. “So eager.”
I pull back from Callum, my lips already swollen.
I keep my hand tight around him, stroking up and down his shaft and delighting in how easy it is to make his body jolt.
Grant moves next, nudging Dean to my other side. Grant’s already stripped down to just his t-shirt, a hand wrapped around the hem of the fabric to expose his abs.
His body aligns with mine and with my other hand, I guide him inside me.
His cock fills me with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes us both groan.
Dean’s fingers don’t stop, his touch on my clit is a counterpoint to Grant’s rhythm.
While Callum slips back into my mouth again, his hand takes over pinching my nipple, trapping it between two of his knuckles.
I’m trembling, my body a live wire as each sensation builds my impending orgasm higher.
I reach for Dean, grabbing him closer by the front loop of his jeans. He pops himself free and my hand finds his cock easily.
“Fuck, you are everything, Noelle,” he groans.
Pleasure crests, a tidal wave crashing through me, and I cry out, my voice swallowed by Callum’s cock ramming down my throat.
Grant digs his hands into my hips, lifting me slightly off the floor and into his lap as he pounds into me.
His breath is ragged as he comes, pumping me full until I’m dripping his release and my own slick all over the carpet.
He slips out of me easily, and Dean takes his place.
His cock slides into me with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes my toes curl, and I moan again.
Callum pulls back, his cock spurting out as his release spills all over my chest.
He leans over to grab my jaw in a tight hold, moving my face over to kiss him.
Grant’s hands roam my sides, his touch gentle now, grounding me as Dean’s rhythm quickens.
I’m trembling, my body overwhelmed from their touches as they all merge together.
I cry out again, my orgasm crashing through me and pulling Dean with me as he groans.
He comes hard, his body shuddering against mine.
Callum pulls his mouth off mine, leaving a trail of saliva dangling between us.
I collapse onto the floor, panting heavily.
“Wow,” Dean says.
And I can’t help but agree.