Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
T wo weeks had flown by in a whirlwind of sweet and sizzling late nights with Eli and endless Christmas crafts. The Christmas market was only five nights away, and Willow felt Christmas magic sweep over all of Timber Falls. She threaded her way through the clusters of laughter and chatter in the bar, her heart swelling as she took in the scene before her. The whole crafting group was there, working hard to finish as many crafts as they could before the market.
“Look at this one, Wills!” Aubrey called out, holding up an ornament shaped like a moose, its tiny antlers wrapped in shimmering twine.
“I absolutely love that one,” Willow said. “Keep it for me. I want to buy it for the bar.”
Aubrey grinned. “Can’t. I already bought it.”
Willow smiled, but then focused back on all the crafts spread out on the four tables pushed together. They had pulled out all the crafts they’d done so far to get an overall look at them, determine pricing and form a plan for the market.
“Did I ever tell you about the first tree I decorated after leaving him?” Joanne asked the group, a hint of nostalgia in her laugh. “My kids and I hung up spoons and forks because it was all I had. But it was mine, you know?”
Amie said, “I bet that is one of the best memories for your kids too.”
“It was,” Joanne said, agreeing with a nod. “It truly was a wonderful Christmas.”
Charly grumbled something incoherent, drawing Willow’s attention. She was adding price tags to the wreaths. “Legit you’re all very good at crafting. I can’t even tie on these price tags properly.”
Laughter rippled through the circle, and even Willow chuckled, the sound mingling with the clink of glasses and the soft rustle of paper.
“Who did this one?” Amie asked out, holding up a crocheted snowman.
Betty raised her hand. “That’d be mine, dear.”
“It’s so cute,” Amie said, spinning the ornament in her fingers.
Betty grinned from ear to ear. “I’ll make you one.”
“Really?” Amie said. “Thanks, Betty.”
Willow just smiled at the room bursting with love. She glanced to Charly and Aubrey, who smiled too. The first Christmas craft group had been quiet... sad . But no longer was the pain shared, or hearts bleeding—laughter filled the bar now. Friendships had formed over the passing weeks. And Willow knew that was the best thing that could have come from Empowerment Elves, regardless of the money they made for the shelter.
“I’m really going to miss these crafting days,” Amie said.
“They don’t have to stop,” Willow said. “Seems around here there is a festival or market for everything. We’ll just change what we make.”
Betty laughed. “We do love our markets in Timber Falls. I think that’s a wonderful idea, Willow. I have so many knitted items we could sell too.”
Before Willow could answer, the bar’s door crashed open.
Willow’s gaze snapped toward the entrance, spotting a thirtysomething man with tousled black hair. He had a long, dark unkempt beard and his jeans and black T-shirt were covered in dirt. His nearly black eyes, predatory and unforgiving, scanned the room until they fixed on Amie, who sat frozen, a half-finished angel clutched in her trembling hands.
“Buck,” she breathed.
The temperature seemed to plummet, and Willow felt a chill snake its way down her spine.
“Hi, Buck,” Charly called in a light voice, taking a step forward. “This is a closed event. You should—”
“Shut it,” Buck spat. His boots thudded heavily against the wooden floor as he entered further.
Silence descended. Willow glanced at the ladies around the table. They all froze in their seats, their eyes wide with alarm, silent signals passing between them—a sisterhood united in fear that understood this moment meant danger .
Buck’s rage was a palpable force that seemed to suck the air from the room. “You think you can hide her from me?” he roared, his voice slicing through the silence.
Willow forced her voice not to betray the fear raging in her. “Amie doesn’t want to see you. You need to leave, or we’ll call the police.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he bellowed, stepping into her space, his breath hot with the stench of whiskey and anger. “I’ll wreck this whole damn place if I have to!”
That scent had Willow spiraling to another man...another time... pain ...
“Please, Buck,” Amie’s voice was a frail whisper. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t you say a fucking word, you stupid bitch.” Buck turned on her, his heavy hand flying up and crashing down across her face. The impact sent Amie sprawling to the ground, her chair clattering beside her.
Gasps filled the room, and Aubrey yelled, “Leave. Now.”
Buck sneered, his gaze flickering over the roomful of Christmas crafts and the women who had painstakingly created them. “This fucking place. You fucking women. All out to ruin a man’s good reputation. I was fired because of the lies spread here.” With an animalistic growl, he swept his arm across a nearby table, sending delicate glass ornaments crashing to the ground.
“Look at this crap! You think this junk is going to change anything?” Buck’s voice dripped with hatred as he stomped on a hand-painted ornament, grinding it beneath his boot. He began ripping up the Christmas cards, one by one.
Willow couldn’t move...couldn’t breathe...could only watch as each stomp felt like an assault on the happiness they’d discovered these past weeks.
The room, once filled with laughter, now echoed with the sharp breaths of fright. Women huddled together, their eyes round with terror as they watched Buck’s rampage.
“Call the police,” Amie begged.
Buck snarled, turning back to Amie.
Willow wasn’t thinking, but only knew she couldn’t let him hit Amie again. She raced in front of Amie, trying to form a human barrier between them and Buck’s wrath. “No,” she barely managed. But even as she spoke, she knew it was a futile gesture; he was a tornado of rage, and she was in his way.
“What are you going to do, huh? Protect her?” he sneered, his voice slicing through the air, sharp and malicious.
With a grunt of rage, he lunged forward, shoving Willow hard in the chest. She stumbled backward, her legs tangling with a chair that toppled over, sending her soaring toward the ground. A gasp escaped her lips as fear gripped her, the coldness of the floor a stark reminder of how quickly things could turn from bad to worse.
“Willow!” The cry came from multiple directions.
But as she struggled to right herself, her palms pressed against shards of glass, causing her to cry out. Buck towered above her. She could feel the heat of his anger, a palpable force that threatened to consume everything in its path. And with his looming presence over her, she was right back there with Niko that night...the pain...the fear...it all blanketed over her. She curled into herself, placing her hands over her head, protecting herself from the fury she knew was coming her way.
Suddenly, the front door of The Naked Moose burst open with a force that shook its hinges, and through it stormed a figure with eyes glinting with a dangerous fire as he held a box. Eli’s broad shoulders heaving, his gaze locked onto the scene before him. Until those blazing eyes landed on Buck towering over Willow, from her spot on the floor.
“Move. Now,” Eli said calmly—too calmly, setting the box down.
Buck’s face contorted into a mask of rage. “Stay out of this, Cole! This is between me and—” Buck’s sentence was sliced short as Eli charged forward, the very air seeming to ripple with the power of his movement.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Willow watched Eli bulldoze over Buck, his body a battering ram against Buck’s looming threat, as Eli tackled Buck into the table with the wreaths.
Willow forced herself up onto her feet to get out of the way, wincing against her bleeding palms. Aubrey gripped Willow’s arm a second later, yanking her away.
“Stop, please!” Amie’s voice rang out, as Buck managed to get back to his feet.
“Back off, Cole, or I swear—” Buck roared, his threats cut short as Eli landed a punch that sent him staggering back, his footing unsure.
Just as Buck regained his balance, Eli lunged with a blind ferocity.
The door suddenly crashed open again, and yet Willow couldn’t even find it in herself to feel relieved that the police had arrived, racing toward Eli and Buck. She stood frozen, unable to even process what had just happened. She should feel something , but she felt... quiet . Too quiet. Too silent. Too...disconnected.
But one thing she knew for certain, every wreath, ornament, Christmas card, all the items they made for the Christmas market were now destroyed...
“Timber Falls PD! Calm down!” A commanding voice shouted out as Eli was pulled off Buck and restrained with handcuffs. Finally, the adrenaline began to wear off and he struggled to recall what had occurred. He had dropped off Ranger at his new home with a very happy teenage girl and then picked up a craft box full of donations for Willow on the way back. But upon seeing her on the ground with Buck hovering over her, clearly having been pushed down by him, something inside Eli...broke.
“Stand down, Buck,” came another shout, followed by the scuffle of a brief struggle.
Eli turned his head, trying to see Willow, but only saw the damage then. All the Christmas crafts were destroyed, and the remainder of the adrenaline engulfing him left in a rush as he saw broken wreaths, smashed glass ornaments.
“It wasn’t Eli,” Charly said from somewhere behind him. “He was protecting us.”
The officers paid no attention to her as they forcefully pulled him up and led him out. He looked over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Willow, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Willow?” he called but was met with silence.
Eventually, he found himself being shoved into the back of a police car and then driven to a jail cell. He heard that Buck had been taken to the hospital; Eli had apparently broken his nose during the scuffle.
Nothing about any of this felt good. All those crafts were gone. Every minute of hard work the Empowerment Elves had made was now erased. Buck might have been the reason, but Eli had been a part of that destruction. His gut twisted.
In the jail cell, Eli sat on the metal bench, the back of his head resting against cold steel bars. He shut his eyes, breathed past the tension in his chest.
“Eli,” came a familiar voice.
He opened his eyes to Detective Harris, who stood outside the cell. “Interesting day?” Harris asked with a frown.
“You could say that.” Eli’s voice was gritty, raw.
“Listen, you know this is just protocol, right?” Harris leaned in closer, his voice dropping to ensure confidentiality. “Just gotta give your report, go through the motions. It’s all part of the process.”
Eli’s jaw clenched and he nodded, as he grappled with the reality of his situation.
“You protected people today,” Harris said, his eyes locking onto Eli’s with a steadying force. “So, whatever you’re feeling, stop. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Eli couldn’t even find it in himself to respond. He needed to think. He needed to get his head back on straight. His thoughts were muddled, cloudy.
“Come on,” Harris said after a long moment. “I’ll take you to give your report.” He unlocked the jail door.
The cell door swung open, and Eli stepped out, squaring his shoulders. He didn’t regret punching Buck. His fingers twitched to do it again, but all he could see were those broken crafts, and he knew there were broken hearts back at the bar. Including Willow’s.
The tension twisted inside him like barbed wire as they approached the door marked Interrogation Room. Each step felt heavier than the last, grounding him in a reality he couldn’t escape.
Before Harris opened the door, Eli said, “Before we go in there, can I make a quick call?”
Harris eyed him for a moment, then nodded with understanding. He gestured toward a phone mounted on the wall a few steps away. Eli’s fingers trembled as he dialed Willow’s number.
“Hello?” Charly’s voice filled the line.
Disappointment washed over Eli. “Charly, it’s Eli. I need to speak to Willow. Is she—”
“Willow can’t talk right now,” Charly interrupted, her tone gentle yet firm. “She’s giving her report.”
Eli closed his eyes briefly, imagining Willow’s tears. “Tell her I—” Eli started, but the words tangled up in his throat.
“I’ll tell her you called for her,” Charly promised. “Just focus on what you have to do there, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispered, the receiver cold against his ear. “Please have her call me when she can.”
“I’ll mention it to her.”
With a click, the line went dead, leaving Eli turning to Harris.
“Ready?” Harris asked, his hand resting on the door handle.
“Let’s do this.” Eli took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He entered the cold, sterile room and heard the door shut behind him with a loud thud. The walls were bare, except for a one-way mirror that he knew concealed others watching in. In the center of the room sat a single table, flanked by two hard metal chairs; one was already taken by a stoic police officer whose emotions were impossible to read.
“Mr. Cole?” The officer beckoned, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Eli took the seat.
“Whenever you’re ready,” the officer prompted, pen poised above a piece of paper. “Tell me what happened today.”
“All right,” Eli replied, his voice steady. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Let’s start at the beginning...” he began.
By the time he was finished, he couldn’t stop thinking about the million things he should have done differently. He should have kept his cool. He shouldn’t have punched Buck. He should have held him down until the police came. He shouldn’t have ever let Buck get up. He shouldn’t have crushed all the hard work the group had done.
The police officer’s pen stilled above the paper; he leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving Eli. “Did you feel Buck posed a direct threat to Ms. Quinn and the other women there at the bar?” the officer inquired.
“Yeah,” Eli replied without hesitation, the muscle in his jaw clenching. “Willow was on the ground, cowering away from him. It was clear Buck had shoved her, and Amie’s cheek was red as she sat on the floor, an indicator he’d hit her. Everyone there looked terrified.”
The officer nodded, his hand moving across the notepad, capturing every word. The rhythm of the pen scratching against paper resonated in the quiet room, a testament to the seriousness at play.
“I have your report written out here,” the officer informed Eli. “Take a few moments to read it over and if everything looks accurate, sign and date it.”
Eli took the paper and reviewed the contents, making sure they were correct. He then signed and dated it before returning it to the officer.
“We’re all good here for now,” the officer said. “I’ll reach out if there is anything further. You’re free to go.”
Eli nodded his thanks and walked out of the interrogation room. Harris met him out in the hallway and then showed Eli the way out. He was talking, but Eli couldn’t hear anything past the thoughts battering his mind.
Once outside, with Harris not following Eli out, the cool evening air brushed against his skin, a stark contrast to the stifling confines he’d just left. Jaxon and Gunner were there waiting, leaning against Jaxon’s pickup, expressions somber.
“All right?” Jaxon inquired, his voice calm and steady.
“No,” Eli answered.
Gunner pushed off the truck and approached, placing a comforting hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”
He swallowed hard. “No.”
“Eli,” Jaxon started, reaching out to place a hand on his other shoulder.
“Don’t.” Eli shrugged them off. He turned away from his friends and started walking toward his truck. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see the emotion in their eyes. He just needed to get to his truck, parked up ahead, and drive away from this goddamn mess.
The air in The Naked Moose was thick with tension, and Willow couldn’t make sense out of anything that happened. The police asked the rest of the women in the group to leave the bar after they got their statements. Charly and Aubrey began throwing out the crafts, keeping the ones that were salvageable. From Willow’s spot at a table, she watched as Amie gave her report on the other side of the bar to a female detective, while the paramedic administered first aid to Willow’s cut hands.
“I’m not seeing any glass in here,” the paramedic said, drawing Willow’s attention. “It’s up to you if you’d like to go to the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” Willow said, wincing as he wiped the small cuts with an antiseptic wipe.
The paramedic gave her a firm nod. “All right, let me just bandage your hands up for you.”
When the paramedic finished with ointment followed up by bandages, the female police officer came over to Willow, taking a seat next to her at the table.
“Ms. Quinn, right?” the woman with the tight brown bun and sharp blue eyes asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” Willow replied.
“I’m Detective Nelson,” she said, pen poised over a piece of paper. “I’ve got Amie’s report, but I’d like to get yours too, if that’s all right.” Her tone was professional yet tinged with empathy. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Willow nodded again and drew in a shaky breath, her chest tight. “Buck—he arrived,” she began, sure not to leave a detail out. Her words came out in a rush, laced with the sickness that swirled in her stomach at Buck’s rage.
The officer nodded solemnly, writing down her account. “I’m sorry this happened,” she said when Willow finished. “Buck is currently at the hospital under police watch but he’ll be taken back to the station and arrested on a slew of charges.”
Willow glanced over at Amie who was now helping clean up, her gray eyes meeting Willow’s with a silent strength. At least she’d be safe now. And possibly would be for a while if Buck ended up in jail.
“Thank you,” Willow said, looking to Detective Nelson again. “And Eli?” Her breath hitched.
“Mr. Cole? What about him?”
“He... He was defending me. I know how it looks, but Eli isn’t violent. He saw Buck standing over me being violent, he just...reacted. His sister was murdered by her abusive ex. He’s not like Buck. Please, he was only trying to help. He shouldn’t suffer for protecting someone. For protecting me.”
Detective Nelson gave a small nod, the lines around her eyes softening. “We’ll take his statement too. Self-defense is taken seriously, Miss Quinn.”
“Thank you,” she whispered in relief. The last thing she wanted was Eli arrested. She turned her gaze toward the bar, where all the crafts lay strewn across the floor, and her heart shattered.
All their hard work. Just gone.
“Is there anything else you can tell me that might help with the investigation?” Detective Nelson asked.
Willow shook her head, glancing back to her. “No, there’s nothing else.”
“All right then. We’ll be at the station if you remember anything else. And we’ll make sure both you and Amie are safe tonight,” she assured her, closing her notepad with a soft snap.
“Thank you,” Willow said, grateful.
As Detective Nelson walked away, Willow closed her eyes briefly, searching for strength in the very depths of her soul.
A hand suddenly slid over Willow’s arm, bringing much needed warmth. She opened her eyes to find Charly and then Aubrey there. They both wrapped their arms around her tight. With each inhale, Willow drew in a little more strength; with each exhale, she released a fraction of her fear.
When she backed away, her vision blurred as tears spilled over. The crafts had been more than mere decorations; they were symbols of the sanctuary she had striven to build within these walls. Each piece represented a promise of happiness, a whisper of hope in the darkness, now broken and scattered.
“I wanted this place to be safe for everyone,” Willow choked out. “I wanted...”
“Shh, it’s still safe because of you,” Aubrey soothed, squeezing her shoulder. “This...this is just stuff. We can clean it up, and we can fix this.”
“How?” Willow asked. “We don’t have time to make all new crafts before the market. We don’t have the supplies.”
“Not everything is gone,” Charly said. “There’s a few items and we can make more with what’s left.”
Willow glanced at all the garbage bags and knew the truth. There wouldn’t be enough for a substantial donation to the shelter. She felt the air grow thick, cloying, as if the very essence of the bar were tainted now.
“What do you need?” Charly asked gently.
“I just want to go home,” Willow admitted.
“Then let’s close up and go,” Aubrey said decisively. “Nothing’s keeping us here tonight. This place will still stand tomorrow, and we’ll put it right again.”
Willow rose, just as Amie said, obviously having watched their exchange, “I’ll go home too.”
“No, you’ll come with us,” Willow said firmly. She gingerly wrapped an arm around Amie’s shoulders, pulling her close. “You need friends right now. Not an empty home.”
“Willow, I—” Amie began.
“No arguing,” Willow said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Friends look out for each other.”
“Okay.” Amie smiled, teary-eyed.
It took no time to lock up the bar. The air outside felt cool against Willow’s skin as they stepped outside. Though the moment she looked right, she froze, spotting Eli walking down the street.
“Willow?” his voice was rough, tinged with concern and something darker, something that made her heart constrict.
“Just give me a minute,” she said to the others.
They nodded, heading for the car at the curb when she approached him. None of the rage she’d seen glimpsed in his stormy eyes remained. It was gone now, replaced by a clear regret.
“They didn’t press charges?” she asked. She saw the cuts on his knuckles, the mark on his cheekbone.
He shook his head, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Not yet, no. I’m free to go home.”
She didn’t know the words—didn’t have the words but forced her voice not to fail her. “Thank you, for...for what you did for me,” she managed, her words halting. “But Eli, I...”
“Don’t,” he interjected, his gaze dropping. “Don’t say anything yet.”
Silence stretched between them, a chasm filled with questions and fears too large to voice. In the quiet, Willow could hear her own heart, confused and tired of something always going wrong... so very tired .
“Go home, Willow,” Eli said softly, lifting his gaze to hers. “I’ll give you space, as much as you need. Come talk to me when you’re ready.”
Her lips parted but shut again, as Eli turned, heading for his truck, and Willow’s resolve wavered. She wanted to reach out, to bridge the distance, yet confusion, and her bleeding heart, held her rooted to the spot.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” Charly urged gently, guiding her toward the waiting car.
As Aubrey drove away, Willow’s gaze remained fixed on Eli, until his truck faded away, and all she felt was... tired .