Chapter 13 Grant
GRANT
The next morning, the world outside is a muted shade of white.
The storm has finally eased, leaving behind a heavy silence that clings to everything.
Callum and I manage to barter two shovels from the front desk clerk who looks relieved enough just to have someone else dealing with the mess outside besides themselves and offer us a complimentary set of gloves from their lost and found.
Our boots crunch as we step out into the street.
Noelle’s car sits still buried outside her shop, a white mound barely recognizable beneath the snow.
When we get to it, it’s clear there’s a thick layer of ice hidden underneath the twelve inches, along with all four of her tires having been swallowed by hardened slush.
Clearly, this is going to take a while.
But that’s fine. Physical work keeps my hands busy, keeps me from thinking.
Or it should, anyway.
But every scrape of metal against ice, every grunt of effort, just makes my mind wander back to her.
The heat of last night is still under my skin, simmering despite the freezing air.
The way her breath hitched with every thrust, her hands reaching down to wrap around my wrists to hold on, her body moving in time with mine—it’s seared into my memory.
Reckless, that’s what it was.
Absolutely reckless.
Her son was asleep behind an unlocked door.
A single sound could’ve ended it all and none of us would’ve had anyone but each other to blame. But hell if I can bring myself to regret any of it.
I grip the shovel harder, forcing myself to remain focused. The rhythmic scrape of steel against ice helps a little, but it doesn’t clear my head entirely. Not when I can still taste her on my tongue.
I glance sideways at Callum. He’s working in silence, as always.
His movements are steady and precise, every bit the ex-soldier he is.
He moves in an efficient rhythm only someone like him can manage, his breath fogging in even bursts. He’s got his hood up, jaw tight, eyes narrowed in concentration.
Not surprising, Callum’s never been one for small talk, but what is surprising is the fact that he hasn’t said a damn thing about last night.
Not one comment, not even a knowing look. I’d half expected it the second we got out here, away from Noelle and Dean.
He’s not nosy, but he’s observant.
He sees things other people miss.
Hell, I was sure he’d needle at me for letting things get carried away but instead, he’s just…quiet.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Not gonna say anything?” I mutter, leaning on the shovel and nodding toward the car. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
Callum doesn’t look up. “About what?”
“You know what.”
He pauses mid-scoop, the shovel blade buried in snow.
When he straightens, he leans his body against the handle and hooks one foot behind his ankle.
His breath fogs out in front of him again, a long exhale that keeps me from swinging my shovel against a large piece of ice guarding Noelle’s tire and instead focusing on him.
“Jared’s a problem,” he says suddenly.
I pause mid-swing, the metal edge of my shovel biting into a crust of snow. “Well, yeah… We all gathered that much.”
He doesn’t take the bait. Doesn’t even crack a smirk.
Instead, he plants the shovel upright in the snowbank and leans on it, his expression grim.
His eyes flick up toward the gray sky like he’s sorting through something he’s trying to find the words to say.
Eventually, Callum goes on. “He’s a coward, but he’s persistent. We all saw it in his eyes when he came to our hotel room. He’s petty and vindictive. He’s not going to let us being around Noelle go.”
I feel my jaw clench before I can stop it.
The image of Jared’s red, rage-splotched face flashes in my mind. The way he spat those vile things at Noelle, the way she’d physically flinched just hearing his voice.
Then the sound of her sobs afterward, muffled against her hands, the way she’d folded in on herself like she was trying to disappear from the world.
It took everything in me not to go after him and drag him out into the parking lot and make him pay for every ounce of fear he’d put in her eyes.
But I held back for her and Eli because going to jail over a man like him didn’t seem worth it.
What I did make sure of, was that he’d actually climbed his sorry ass into that ratty little sedan he owned and booked it off the property.
Because while I couldn’t beat him into the ground like I wanted, at least I knew for certain he wouldn’t be coming back for another round.
“Richard already said he’s involving the police,” I remind him, wiping the sweat from my brow despite the freezing air.
Callum scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. “Yeah, and that’s been working great so far. He told Dean it’s been going on for almost a year. The cops haven’t done jackshit. What’s one more report gonna change? We don’t even have it on video.”
I drag in a slow breath, forcing the tension in my jaw to ease. “I get what you’re trying to get at, but we can’t go around serving vigilante justice, Callum.”
He raises a brow, his mouth twitching into something almost like a challenge. “Why not?”
That one catches me off guard.
Not because I don’t have an answer, but because part of me wants to agree.
Wants to go track Jared down, drag him out of whatever hole he’s hiding in, and teach him what inflicting fear on someone actually feels like.
“Because,” I say finally, the word coming out as a sigh, “it’s going to make her life more complicated and give those people more ammo to use against her.
You think this mother won’t jump at the chance to call her unfit if she finds out we got involved?
Or worse, Jared drags her to court over custody? We start a fight, we give him exactly what he wants.”
Noelle didn’t want to talk about the woman who accosted her at the festival, but we knew who she was instantly.
She had the same nose, same set of the jaw, as Jared. Only his mother could protect his sorry ass like that, too.
Cal’s quiet for a moment, jaw ticking as he stares down at the snow. I know that look: he’s fighting the same instinct I am.
The need to do something, to fix it, to protect Noelle in the only way we know how.
“I’ve seen men like him,” I say after a beat.
“Small. Bitter. Lashing out because they can’t stand feeling smaller than everyone else in the room.
It’s not about love or custody, it’s about control.
He’s already got her looking over her shoulder, Cal.
We can’t give him more ammunition to hurt her with. ”
His eyes flash. “You really think backing off is going to make him stop?”
“No,” I admit. “But coming at him swinging won’t help either.”
He lets out a rough exhale, kicking at the snow near his boot. “I doubt Eli’s even his.”
I reply carefully, “We can’t say for sure…she hasn’t refuted it. So for now, that’s the truth we have to go with until she says otherwise.”
Callum looks up, his eyes narrowing. “And if she never says otherwise?”
“Then we keep our mouths shut and protect them anyway,” I say simply.
He exhales slowly, shaking his head. “You can’t seriously expect me to sit on my hands while that asshole harasses her over and over again."
“I’m not saying do nothing,” I counter. “But what I am saying is we need to be smart about it. We watch. We stay close. If he so much as breathes wrong in her direction, that’s when we deal with it.”
His gaze sharpens, something unreadable flickering behind it. “So stalk him. See what he’s up to and intervene if he tries anything. Document everything.”
I meet his stare evenly. “Something like that.”
He nods slowly, turning to look back the way we’d come from. His hand flexes around the shovel’s handle again, his shoulders lifting while he takes in a deep inhale.
He’s not wrong being worried—Jared’s a problem.
A big one.
And if the cops won’t do their damn jobs, then it’ll be us that will make sure Noelle and Eli stay safe.
I glance back toward the hotel too where I know she’s probably pacing, worrying, overthinking the same way I am.
When Callum turns back to me, there’s a gleam in his eyes. One I’m not used to seeing. “Let’s find out where he works—if that fucker even has a job. Or where he lives. That way we can keep tabs on him.”
I almost tell him no.
The word is on the tip of my tongue, but at the last second Noelle’s red and swollen eyes flash in my mind.
“Alright.”
We finish clearing the snow around Noelle’s car, the little hatchback now free.
We stash the shovels in Callum’s truck and head into the business directly next to Noelle’s.
Like Noelle’s shop, this bakery is a little slice of Christmas packed into one tiny spot.
The smell of sugar is overwhelming when we push the door open, letting in a brief cold draft with us.
The window displays are already packed with pies domed with powdered sugar, a pyramid of gingersnaps, and platters of sugar cookies.
Garlands of paper snowflakes dusted in glitter are strung from the ceiling, decorating the entire place.
They catch the low winter light, making the entire shop glimmer.
The woman behind the counter looks every inch of a baker that would run a place like this.
Late sixties, grey hair pulled back into a knot on top of her head, flour smudging her glasses, apron tied tight around her waist.
She gives us a smile when we wander over to the counter.
“You boys look like you need something hot,” she says, and without missing a beat she hands each of us a cookie straight from the tray in her hand, still warm and steaming.
The first bite is worth whatever diet plan I swore off this week.
The gingersnaps are soft and crack at the edge, the molasses and spice blooming on my tongue perfectly.
I hold the cookie in the center of my palm, soaking in the heat from it.
Callum swallows and nods toward Noelle’s shop.
“The girl next door. You seen her ex around at all?
Tall guy with blond hair. Looks a little…out of sorts?” he asks between mouthfuls, trying to sound casual when anything but that.
The woman’s face tightens instantly.