Chapter Seven
Noah
I arrive at the diner a little late.
Wilder was supposed to pick the girls up, but he mentioned he had a meeting, informing me a bit late. From the entrance, I find Cammi and Millie alone in the diner. No patrons in sight. The bell above the door jingles softly as I step inside.
Everything looks normal. Millie is behind the counter, a pile of receipts and a ledger open in front of her, pen in hand as she works through the sales receipts.
She glances up when she sees me. “Oh, hey,” she says, offering a small smile. “You’re early.”
I step further in. “And I thought I was late. Wilder couldn’t make it. Figured I’d walk you both back.”
Her smile lingers. “That’s actually really nice of you.”
I nod once, leaning against the counter. “Where’s Cammi?”
“You just missed her. She’s taking the trash out back,” Millie replies, glancing toward the hallway that leads to the kitchen.
I follow her gaze. The back door is slightly open. So I nod, angling my body to face the area. I’ll see her the moment she enters. “You two almost done?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, flipping a page in the ledger. “Just finishing up the numbers.”
I nod again, settling into a quiet wait. The diner hums softly around us. The low buzz of the fridge. The faint ticking of the wall clock. The distant sound of a car passing outside.
But under it all, something feels off. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen Cammi, or I’m just being overly cautious.
Millie looks up. “Noah, can you keep an eye on the diner? I need to check through some receipts in Pete’s office.”
I jerk my gaze off the back door and toward Millie. “Sure.”
“Thank you. I won’t be long.” She hurries away from the counter to the back office.
I look around the diner for any threat. Nothing, but at the back of my mind, I’m wondering how long it takes to take out the trash. I decide to ask Millie when she gets back. Another minute passes. Maybe two.
Then, Millie runs out from the back, her expression filled with panic and fear. “Noah,” she whispers.
I freeze. “What is it?” I ask quietly.
She leans in, her eyes wide. “Cammi’s in trouble.”
Everything inside me goes cold. “What do you mean?” I demand.
“It’s Rick,” she says quickly, her voice shaking. “I heard his voice. He’s out there with her.” A harsh whisper coated in fear.
She inhales and continues, “The door is propped open. I heard everything. He’s trying to force her to go with him. He said he’s taking her back home.”
Something inside me snaps. For a split second, I see red. But I don’t let it take over. I can’t. Because panic gets people killed. I learned that early on in the army. And I’m not losing her. Not like this.
I grab Millie’s shoulders, grounding her. “Listen to me.” Her breathing is uneven, her hands trembling. “You stay here,” I say firmly.
“What? No, I can’t just stay…”
“Millie.” My voice cuts through her panic.
“You’re going to help her,” I continue, steady and controlled. “But you need to do exactly what I say.”
She swallows hard. “O-okay.”
“Call the cops,” I say. “Right now.”
Her grip tightens around her phone.
“And then you stay hidden,” I add. “You don’t come out. Don’t try to help. Understand me?”
“But…”
“Millie.” She stops.
“Trust me,” I say.
A beat passes. Then she nods. “Okay.”
I release her. Then I’m on the move. I use the front door to keep the element of surprise.
The night air hits me instantly, cool and sharp, but my mind is already locked in.
Focused. I’d already canvassed the diner’s surroundings—after Rick threatened Cammi the last time. I knew I couldn’t take any chances.
Now, I think back to my survey. Back alley. Narrow space. Limited exits. One unpredictable threat. With that thought, I move along the side of the building, keeping close to the wall. Every step deliberate. Every breath controlled.
Then I hear him. “You think you can just leave me?” Rick’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and angry.
I slow down.
Cammi’s voice follows. “I already did.”
My chest tightens. She’s scared. But she’s holding her ground. My protective instinct surges, but I have to do this right. I can’t hurt her. But Rick better pray she doesn’t get hurt. Because all bets are off the minute that happens.
“You don’t get to decide that,” he snaps.
I edge closer. Just enough to see. And there they are. Cammi stands with her back against the wall, her hands slightly raised, her body tense. Rick stands in front of her. A gun in his hand. He’s too close.
Fuck.
“You’re coming home,” he says.
“No,” she replies. Her voice shakes. But it doesn’t break.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he warns, lifting the gun slightly.
My vision narrows. I take in everything. The angle of his arm. The distance between them. The way his weight is distributed. He’s not trained. Doesn’t know how to handle a gun. Good. That gives me an opening. I slow my breathing.
One move. That’s all I get. I shift my stance slightly. And then, I strike.
I move fast. No hesitation. No warning.
My hand clamps down on his wrist before he even realizes I’m there, twisting hard and sharp, forcing the gun upward and away from Cammi.
“What the—” He doesn’t finish.
I drive into him, using his own weight against him, shoving him off balance and away from her. The gun goes off. The sound explodes through the alley. Cammi screams. It takes all my willpower, but I don’t look at her.
I can’t. Not yet. The need to protect her is greater. Rick recovers quicker than I expect, his other hand swinging wildly toward me. His movements are sloppy and uncontrolled. I block it easily, redirecting the force and slamming a fist into his cheek, keeping him off balance.
“Stay down,” I growl as I try to dislodge the gun from his hand.
His hold tightens. But I dig my thumb and forefinger hard into his wrist. He shoves at me, but I’m immovable. I tighten my grip on his wrist, twisting harder until I feel the resistance weaken. The gun slips. I wrench it free.
But Rick doesn’t stop. He charges at me again, tackling me hard. We hit the ground. The impact rattles through my body, but I’ve taken worse. The gun slips from my grip. In that split second, he secures the gun again.
I roll, shifting my weight until he’s trapped beneath me and the gun is between us. I grapple with him. My hand closes over his wrist again, and I yank.
He thrashes beneath me, panicking now. “You think you can take her from me?” he spits.
“She’s not yours,” I snap.
Then, he struggles to point the gun toward me. My grip tightens on his wrist, and I try to turn the weapon away. And then, it fires again. The sound is deafening.
Everything freezes. I wait for an episode to drag me under, already breathing to stay in the present. Bringing an image of Cammi to mind.
A loud gurgle sounds beneath me. I look down. And the sight of Rick, with blood bubbling from his mouth, brings the focus back. Rick chokes. The fight drains out of him instantly. His body goes slack beneath me.
I quickly slide off him, placing the gun beside his body. My breathing is steady even though everything inside me is anything but. I should feel remorse, but I don’t. I’m not sorry he’s dead. He terrorized Cammi, and that’s unforgivable. Silence crashes down around me.
“Cammi,” I say, turning immediately.
She’s still pressed against the wall. Frozen. Her entire body shaking. I move to her side quickly.
“Hey—hey, look at me.”
Her eyes snap to mine. Wide. Terrified.
“I’m here,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You’re okay.”
Her breath breaks. And then she’s in my arms. Clinging to me like I’m the only thing holding her together. I hold her tight—one hand at the back of her head, the other wrapped firmly around her.
“It’s over,” I murmur. “He’s not coming near you again.”
Her fingers grip my shirt. Hard. “I thought—” she starts, but her voice cracks.
“I know,” I say. “I’ve got you.”
Sirens cut through the silence. Getting closer. Good.
The police arrive fast. Lights flood the alley. Voices follow suit. They separate us, but I keep her in my sight. She’s my anchor to the present. To everything.
Someone starts asking questions. I don’t fight it. I stand still, hands visible, calm and controlled.
“Sir, step over here,” one of them says.
I do. They take the gun. Check the body.
“What happened?” the officer asks.
“Self-defense,” I say evenly.
He watches me closely.
“Start from the beginning.”
So I do. I explain it all, keeping it simple and clear. “He had a gun,” I explain. “He was threatening her. I stepped in. He resisted. The weapon discharged during the struggle.”
The officer nods slowly. Writing everything down. Another one crouches by the body, turning the weapon over with a gloved hand. “Twenty-two,” he says to no one in particular. “Cheap. Easy to buy on the streets.” He bags it
.
A second officer comes around the side of the building, nodding toward the corner of the alley. “There’s a camera back here. Looks like it’s got an angle on the whole thing.” He glances at me. “That’ll make this simple.”
Relief I don’t show moves through me. I knew that camera was there—Pete keeps it running over the back lot. I counted on it the second I rounded the corner. It saw everything. It’ll back every word I’ve said.
Eventually, they bring Cammi over. She looks smaller somehow. Shaken. My heart wrenches. I want to take her away from all the noise and chaos. To a place where it’s just us.
But when her eyes find mine, she steadies.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “I am now.”
Millie stands a few feet away, still on the phone with someone, probably talking to Wilder. She looks like she’s been crying.
“You did good,” I tell her.
She nods, swallowing hard. “I just…I didn’t know what else to do.”
It takes another hour before the cops finally decide it was self-defense and let us go. By that time, Wilder has arrived and now has Millie in his arms.
???
Back at Wilder House and in my apartment, I turn to Cammi. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Quiet.
“You want to talk about it?” I ask.
She hesitates. Then nods. “Yeah.”
I sit beside her. “Start wherever you want,” I say.
She takes a breath but doesn’t look at me when she starts talking. Her hands stay clasped tightly in her lap, fingers twisting together like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“I didn’t tell you everything about him,” she says quietly.
I already know that. I heard her give her statement to the cops. But I let her say it.
“He’s been calling,” she continues. “Texting. Threatening me.”
My jaw tightens. I keep my expression neutral.
“For days,” she adds, her voice shaking slightly now. “Different numbers. I kept blocking them, but he just…kept at it.”
I exhale slowly. “You should’ve told me.”
“I know,” she says quickly. “I know. I just—” She stops. Swallows hard.
“I didn’t want to make things worse,” she finishes.
“Worse how?” I ask.
Her eyes lift to mine. “You,” she says softly. “I didn’t know what you’d do if you knew.”
Her words are a punch to my gut—but not in a bad way. Because she’s not wrong. I run a hand through my hair, exhaling. “I would’ve handled it.” A beat. “But I get why you didn’t. You were trying to protect me too. From whatever I’d have done.”
“Yes,” she says.
We both go quiet. Because we both know how that ended.
“He’s gone now,” I say finally.
She nods. Relief flickers across her face. But it’s mixed with something else. A deep worry and fear. “I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispers.
That lands harder than anything else tonight. I exhale. “The same for me,” I state. “When Millie told me he was in the alley, my mind blanked.”
Her lips press together. “Noah. I’m already in too deep.”
A faint, humorless huff leaves me. “Yeah?”
She nods slowly. “I didn’t plan this,” she continues. “Any of it. You, me…this.”
“Me neither.”
She lets out a small breath. Then looks at me fully. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Everything in me stills. I’ve wanted to hear these words for so long. I was scared that she didn’t feel the same. Now, there’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. “I already am,” I say.
I watch her eyes widen. Silence stretches between us.
She shifts closer, leaning in until our breaths mingle and she presses a tentative kiss on my lips.
I make no move to take over. It’s her move.
She slides her tongue over my lower lip, sending all my blood straight to my cock.
Then she gets bolder, kissing me deeply, slowly until my breathing turns ragged.
I cup her cheeks, finally taking over and swallowing every gasp, every moan, and every sigh. I break the kiss reluctantly, my cock already hard as granite. One look at her pink, swollen lips and flushed face and I almost want to finish what I started.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say after a moment.
She stiffens slightly. “What is it?”
“I got a job offer,” I say. “Arranged by my brother.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me.
I continue, “Private security. Good pay. Solid work.”
“That’s good,” she says, but there’s hesitation in her voice.
“It’s in San Francisco.”
The words settle between us. I watch her closely.
“You’d have to move,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” Silence. “I don’t want to go without you,” I add.
Her eyes flicker in surprise. “You’d…want me to come?” she asks.
I give her a look. “Of course, I’m not leaving you here.”
Her answer is immediate. “Yes,” she says, smiling.
I frown. “Are you sure?” I ask.
She nods. “My mom hasn’t called me,” she says slowly. “Not once. I thought she would at least try,” she continues. “But…nothing.” Her hurt is tangible. “And this place…” She glances around the room slightly. “Is not a real home.”
My chest tightens. She looks back at me. “If you go,” she says, her voice steadier now, “I’ll go with you.”
Something in me locks into place. “I'll take the job,” I say. “We leave. Start fresh. No looking back. Is that okay?”
Her eyes soften, and she nods. That’s it. Decision made.
I pull her into me again, holding her close, my hand settling at the back of her head. She relaxes into me instantly. Like she belongs there.
And truly, she does.