Chapter 18 Grant
GRANT
It’s just past noon by the time we manage to make a dent in the mess.
My shirt’s clinging to my back with sweat, my hands nicked from picking through shards and splintered wood to find items that aren’t completely destroyed, but I don’t care.
I just need something to do. Something to channel this storm brewing inside my chest before it eats me alive.
Callum’s sweeping debris into piles by the door.
There’s fury in every stroke of that broom, focused anger that’s worse than shouting.
His jaw is locked tight, eyes trained on the floor as each scrape of bristles against wood rings with restrained violence.
Dean’s back near the register counter, cataloging the damage on his phone for the insurance company.
The set of his shoulders is stiff, his usual easy grin nowhere to be found.
He mutters under his breath every so often, each word clipped short like if he doesn’t keep talking to himself, he’ll explode.
I’m across the other side of the store, my knuckles white around the edge of a fallen display case as I force it upright.
The old wood groans under the pressure, protesting with a low creak before settling back into place.
A few of the ornaments still clinging to the shelves tremble loose and hit the ground with a sharp crack, scattering glittering fragments across the floor.
I sigh at the iridescent dust that clings to my skin.
Noelle’s already gone home.
We convinced her to rest after she broke down, when the shaking finally overtook the tears.
She hadn’t wanted to go, kept insisting she needed to stay and help, to fix what she could, but Callum and I practically had to steer her out the door.
Watching her like that, her shoulders slumped, eyes swollen from crying, voice breaking when she tried to thank us, felt like being gutted alive.
Because no matter how much I wanted to tell myself this wasn’t our fault, I knew better.
All of this had been a direct result of Callum and me showing up at his work. And now he’s retaliating.
There’s no doubt in my mind that this is his doing. Jared’s too much of a coward to face her head-on, too manipulative to let his obsession with her and Eli die quietly.
And after that confrontation we had with him less than forty-eight hours ago, it was only a matter of time before he found another way to strike back.
Who else would have this much hatred festering inside them for a woman who’s just trying to live her life?
Who else would see Noelle’s happiness as a personal insult?
Her words still echo in my mind.
Eli isn’t even his.
Even now, it doesn’t feel real.
One of ours.
I’m not sure if I’m surprised or relieved about the news, but I’m certainly not unhappy.
The only thing we need to worry about now is the mother of our child is being hunted by a vindictive bastard who’s gone from harassment to breaking and entering. And if he isn’t stopped soon…it’ll escalate again to something much worse.
The thought of Jared laying a single hand on her or Eli sets off an anger I’ve never felt before.
I feel it rising like wildfire, burning from my gut to the back of my throat until all I can see is red.
My grip tightens around the edge of the display case, wood biting into my palms.
I want to hurt him.
I want to make him understand what it means to mess with the woman and child I care about most.
A loud clatter breaks through my thoughts.
I blink, and when I look up Callum’s broom has slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
He’s staring at me across the room, his brow furrowed as that sixth sense of his works overtime.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just studies me, taking in the way my fists are clenched and the way my breath’s coming out of me too harshly.
Then in that calm, unshakable voice of his, he says, “We’ll find him.”
“You’re serious?” Dean asks.
Callum doesn’t hesitate. “We’ll find him. Tonight. Wherever the hell he’s staying. We’ll get him to come outside and make sure he knows what it means to mess with her like this.”
Dean exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You planning to talk to him? Or put him through the wall?”
Callum’s mouth twitches, but it isn’t a smile. “Depends on how cooperative he feels.”
For a second, no one speaks.
I meet Callum’s gaze across the wreckage, and the unspoken understanding between us clicks into place.
This isn’t about anger anymore, it’s about protection.
Whatever Jared thought he could get away with, whatever twisted game he thinks he’s playing, it ends now.
“Count me in,” I say quietly, the words leaving no room for argument.
Dean’s eyes flick between us again, and after a beat, he gives a grim nod. “Guess that makes three of us.”
Callum bends to pick up the broom again. “Then it’s settled.”
Richard is already on the porch when we pull up, his breath steaming in the cold in front of him.
His face is hard as steel, eyes dark and fixed on the truck the second he recognizes it.
As soon as he sees us climbing out of it after we park and kill the ignition, his expression snaps into something far worse than anger: it’s full-bodied parental fury.
“What the hell happened?” he demands the second my foot hits the top stair. His voice ricochets around the front yard. “We came back from skating and found Noelle curled up on the couch inconsolable. She could barely get two words out before I had to send her upstairs.”
I swallow.
I can still feel every brittle slice of glass pinching against my palm, hear the creaking of the wood from the displays I righted and the shelves I picked up off the floor.
It’s a shame the state we had to leave it in even after we picked up as much as we physically could.
But no amount of us doing things ourselves will fix the damage that’s been done to Noelle’s heart.
Not when it never should’ve happened in the first place.
“Her shop was broken into sometime last night or early this morning.” I try to keep my voice steady, because if I don’t I know I’ll start apologizing in an endless loop and we’ll never get to the point.
Richard’s eyes widen immediately, disbelief cutting through the lines of exhaustion on his face.
“What?”
I take a step closer and rest a steadying hand on his arm, guiding him back into the warmth of the house.
“Cops came. They took photos and are filing a report with the precinct. They should be heading back sometime today or early tomorrow to dust for prints, but the street cam’s been down for months according to both Noelle and the officer.
They think whoever did it knew what they were doing.
Wanted to hurt Noelle because of how bad the destruction was. ”
He goes still for a long, heavy second before his whole face tightens.
The muscle in his jaw flexes and his nostrils flare as he exhales harshly through his nose.
He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he rubs his thumb along the bridge of his nose—an old habit I’ve seen him do plenty of times in the past whenever he’s trying to rein himself in.
It’s the same move I’ve seen him make while holding back anger that might just end with fists flying through a wall instead.
He drops his hand finally and looks between the three of us, his eyes sharp again. “She mentioned Jared’s name. Before she went upstairs.”
I nod slowly.
Richard’s face hardens further, that mixture of paternal instinct and decades of command flashing behind his eyes.
The man was a fire chief for most of his life, he knows all too well how to assess damage like this, how to read danger and tell when something’s escalating beyond control just like we do.
Right now, I can see him slotting every piece of this into place like a puzzle he’s been dreading to solve.
“Fuck,” he says finally, voice rough. “I knew he was going to be a problem when he showed up last time. Men like him don’t stop because they’re told to. They stop because they’re made to. I should’ve taken care of him back then.”
Behind us, Callum leans back against the door.
The sound draws my attention briefly, forcing me to break eye contact with Richard for a moment.
His arms cross over his chest. “The three of us are planning on heading out tonight to find him. Shake some sense into him.”
“Or worse,” Dean mutters.
Richard curses under his breath, a hand coming up to rub along his jaw line.
“While I appreciate the effort, boys, that’s not going to go well with the PD.
If a case is already being created, trying to act out some vigilante work is going to make it more complicated to arrest him and keep him behind bars. ”
“We can’t just sit back and do nothing,” Callum argues.
Richard lets out a humorless laugh. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“Then what?” I ask, because I can feel the same frustration clawing at me.
Richard glances between us, his eyes narrowing.
He looks like he’s fighting himself, the words in his throat catching right before he’s able to get them out.
Then, all at once, his expression breaks.
His eyes shine and before I can even register it, tears spill down his face.
It stops me cold in my tracks, surprising me. Richard doesn’t cry. I’ve known the man half my life, seen him through losses, injuries, funerals, and never once have I seen him like this.
“If this turns into something bigger, if he goes after her again—” He stops himself, jaw working as he swipes a quick hand over his cheeks. “He better pray the cops get to him before I do.”
I don’t doubt for a second he means it.
Guilt hits me hard.
I hate seeing him like this.
Richard, my brother in everything but blood, a man who’s dragged me out of my own wreckage more times than I can count, watching him unravel over his family feels wrong, like the world’s off balance.
I want to fix it for him.
For Noelle and for Eli too.
None of them deserve to be caught in the orbit of someone like Jared.
Finally, Richard drags a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.
When he speaks again, his voice has softened, worn down and sounding tired.
“She’s upstairs with Eli. I don’t want her dealing with any of this today.
Let her rest. I’m going to make some calls down to a few buddies at the station.
Get this passed along to the Sergeant and escalate the priority on it. ”
“Let us know what happens,” Callum says quietly.
Richard nods and when his gaze lifts again, the tears are gone. What’s left behind is fire, wild and fierce. “I will. Whatever happens, I know you’ll all back me up.”
“Always,” I promise.
Richard lets out a hollow chuckle. “So much for a peaceful birthday.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tight. “Once we get all of this sorted out, we’re throwing you a birthday bash you’ll never forget.”
For the first time since the conversation started, he smiles. “I look forward to it, then.”