Chapter 15 Noelle
Noelle
It was surreal, watching Shane laugh at one of Beau’s jokes like Shane hadn’t come here to tell me off. In fact, I was starting to think he’d come here for a different reason.
To check out the eye candy…and to interrogate my boyfriend.
My boyfriend.
I hadn’t called him that until this morning, when the title had slipped out as naturally as an exhale. Now, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Beau Ward. My boyfriend.
It felt both absurd and inevitable, the kind of thing you say as a joke until you realize it’s true. In hindsight, I’d been circling it for days…thinking it, teasing it, writing it in the margins of my brain.
And Shane, of course, had immediately latched onto it.
“Boyfriend, huh?” he’d asked when Beau disappeared into the bedroom to grab a shirt. “Two weeks in the middle of nowhere, and all of a sudden you’re settling down with Mr. Fix-It.”
I wanted to argue with him…but yeah.
That about summed it up.
Now we were halfway to Mabel’s, cars passing by on their way up and down Main Street as we walked to the diner. Shane looked around like he was waiting for a jump scare, his gaze latching onto the church, where a few people were walking inside.
It must have been a Sunday, then.
Fuck. We’d been in and out of bed for two weeks?
No fucking way.
It didn’t feel like two weeks. It felt like a long weekend. A fever dream. A perfectly preserved, slow-dripping stretch of time where the hours bent around the sound of Beau’s voice in my ear, the weight of his body over mine, the heat of his breath against my throat.
There’d been coffee. Showers. Bare feet on cool tile. Laughter. The occasional grocery run, always cut short by a horny detour into an empty aisle or the truck or the back of the auto shop.
But mostly?
We’d fucked.
We’d fucked like it was our full-time job. Like the house might vanish if we stopped touching. Like the only thing keeping the world from spinning off its axis was the way he kissed me. Touched me. Looked at me like I was a miracle.
And the scariest part was: it hadn’t gotten old. Not once. If anything, it was getting worse.
More intense.
More addictive.
I glanced over at him now, his hand brushing against mine as we walked. He looked like himself—messy hair with an old Ashmore County High baseball cap, worn jeans, calloused fingers, that low-slung gait.
And still, my whole body buzzed like I was seeing him for the first time.
Shane, beside me, was not subtle about clocking this. He let out a long, dramatic sigh.
“God,” he said. “You’re disgusting.”
I smirked. “Says the man who showed up unannounced because he was worried I’d been murdered.”
“I was worried you’d been murdered. Then I got there and realized you were just dickmatized beyond recognition.”
I opened my mouth to argue—but couldn’t. Not really.
Because yeah. I was.
And I wasn’t even sorry.
Shane’s eyes were still fixed on the church, which proudly displayed a pride flag and a billboard reading “All Are Welcome.” He frowned like he didn’t trust it at all.
“This…this place has to be a cult,” he said. “It’s freaky as hell.”
“You got a problem with the queer community?” Beau asked, completely deadpan.
Shane narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk like you’re part of the queer community, sir.”
Beau shrugged. “Just testing the waters. You free later?”
I nearly choked on my own spit.
Shane nudged me with his shoulder. “Okay, fine. He’s funny. I get it. You win.”
“I didn’t know we were competing.”
“We’re always competing,” he said. “And I’m gracious enough to admit defeat when my best friend gets railed into next week by a man who looks like a walking fire hazard.”
I was still laughing when we reached the front door of Mabel’s, Beau pulling the door open and ushering us both through.
I didn’t hesitate to make my way toward our usual booth, the restaurant pretty much empty while most regulars were in church.
I’d only been here maybe a total of five times tops, but it already felt familiar, with its red vinyl seats, checkered floor, and the smell of bacon and maple syrup clinging to every square foot.
Shane continued to treat the whole place with suspicion, taking a tense seat across from me while Beau slid in beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. Mabel came over a second later with three menus, eyeing me and Beau like we’d fulfilled a prophecy.
“What can I get for y’all this morning? The usual?”
I frowned. “I’ve only been here a handful of times—”
“And you have a usual,” she said. “Eggs over easy, two sausage patties, and a biscuit with honey butter.”
Shane’s look of suspicion only deepened, and Mabel didn’t pretend not to notice. She popped her hip, chewing on her pen.
“You look like…” she paused. “Oatmeal. Strawberries and cream? With three slices of bacon on the side.”
Shane cocked his head. “…yes.”
“And Beau, you’ll have the scramble?”
“Mmhm.”
Mabel nodded like it was all predetermined, scribbled something down that might’ve just been for show, and walked off. Shane waited until she was out of earshot before leaning in across the table.
“Okay,” he whispered. “What the hell is going on?”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this whole town. That lady just read my mind. I didn’t even open my mouth.”
Beau shrugged beside me, casual as ever. “That’s just Mabel.”
Shane gestured vaguely toward the rest of the restaurant. “Okay but it’s not just her. It’s the church, the rainbow flags, the vibe. I was ready for, like, Christian militia energy, and instead it feels like I wandered into a Twilight Zone episode about community healing.”
He didn’t say it like it was a bad thing. If anything, he sounded unnerved by how not bad it was.
I got that.
I’d felt the same way.
“You expected pitchforks?” I asked.
“I expected polite racism,” he said. “Passive-aggressive side-eyes. Maybe some deeply repressed sexual tension. I didn’t expect—” he waved toward the door, where a teenager with pink hair and a pierced septum walked in and got a wave from the cook—“this.”
Beau cracked a quiet smile. “We’re working on it.”
Shane glanced at him again, like he was trying to fit him into a mental model that kept coming up short. “You really grew up here?”
“Yep.”
“And stayed?”
Beau shrugged. “Didn’t have any reason to leave. Always got along with my family…would’ve missed ‘em too much.”
Shane looked like he wanted to press, but our food arrived, and he got distracted by the sight of his oatmeal—topped with a neat little spiral of strawberries and a perfect dusting of cinnamon. The bacon gleamed on a separate plate like it had been kissed by the gods.
He stared at it for a long beat.
“...Fuck me,” he muttered. “This looks incredible.”
“Told you,” I said.
He tried a bite, chewed slowly, and then visibly deflated. “Okay. Fine. I get it. You’re living in a Hallmark movie written by a queer witch.”
Beau chuckled.
“Does that make me the city girl who finds herself?” I asked, mock-sweet.
“No,” Shane said. “You’re the weird one who already believed in ghosts and accidentally summoned a hot mechanic with your horniness.”
“Pretty sure that’s the plot of season two,” I said under my breath.
Beau kissed my temple, not saying anything, just letting his presence do all the talking.
We ate most of our food in easy silence, the kind that only exists between people who’ve already said the hard stuff out loud.
Shane was still watching everything like it might disappear if he blinked too slow, but I could tell—he was softening.
Warming to it. Maybe even a little charmed, not that he’d ever admit it.
Beau’s phone buzzed once, then again.
He checked the screen, grimaced, and leaned over to press a kiss to my cheek. “That’s Whit. Something about a busted fan belt over at the shop. Mind if I run over real quick?”
I shook my head. “Go ahead.”
He slid out of the booth, clapped Shane on the shoulder like they’d been friends for years, and stepped outside into the late morning sun.
A second later, a familiar laugh floated through the glass—Rhett’s, I realized—and I turned in time to see Beau pause on the sidewalk to greet his older brother and Willow.
Rhett was pushing a stroller, and Hazel’s chunky little arms waved wildly from inside, reaching out for Beau—who didn’t hesitate to reach in and unbuckle her to hoist her into his arms, the baby laughing.
Shane watched all of this with slow, dawning horror.
“Oh my God,” he said.
I turned back to him. “What?”
He pointed at me with a slice of bacon. “You want his babies.”
I blinked. “What? No.”
“You do.” He pointed the bacon toward the window now. “You just watched that man pick up a baby and you went…sparkly. You made a noise.”
“I did not make a noise.”
“It was like a whimper crossed with a sigh,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Like…when you see a puppy.”
I tried to glare. Failed. Looked down at my coffee instead. “It’s not like that.”
“You’re planning your future. Don’t lie to me.”
“Okay,” I muttered. “Maybe it’s a little like that.”
Shane let out a long breath and leaned back against the booth. “Jesus, Kinney.”
“I know.”
“No, like—Jesus, Kinney. You’ve got a career, a podcast, rent that costs more than a small yacht, and you’re about to throw it all away for a man who owns a dog and a socket wrench.”
“I’m not throwing anything away,” I said quietly. “I’m just…recalculating.”
He stared at me for a long second. I could see the wheels turning, waited for another snarky comment.
But that wasn’t what I got at all.
Instead, he asked, “Does he make you feel safe?”
I blinked at the sudden seriousness in his voice. “Yeah,” I said. “He does.”
Shane put the bacon in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Can I be honest with you?”
I huffed. “When have you ever asked?”
“I’m being serious, Noelle,” he said. He leaned forward and clasped his hands, eyes flicking out toward where Beau was now walking with Willow and Rhett in the direction of the shop, Hazel still in his arms and pulling his hair.
“I’ve never seen you feel safe. And right now…
I don’t know, dude, it’s like—it’s like you let your shoulders relax for the first time since I’ve met you. ”
I went quiet.
Because he was right.
I’d never really thought about it like that before—hadn’t stopped long enough to notice the way my body had settled in the past week.
The way the constant buzz in the back of my head had dulled, the way I wasn’t gripping my phone like a lifeline or jumping at every email notification.
I hadn’t checked my calendar. Hadn’t kept one eye on the door. Hadn’t made an exit strategy.
I was just…here.
Breathing. Sleeping. Fucking. Laughing.
“I think,” I said slowly, “that I forgot it was allowed. Feeling safe, I mean.”
Shane’s face softened, just a little.
Then he said, “Don’t let that make you reckless.”
I nodded. “I’m trying not to be.”
“Because I’ll support you no matter what, you know that. If you want to stay here and raise chickens with that mountain of a man, I’ll figure out how to do remote production. But if you’re running from something, or if this is just escapism with really good abs—”
“It’s not,” I said. “It’s not that.”
He studied me. “You’re sure?”
I chewed on my lip, letting out a long breath. “I’m…a little freaked out, obviously. This is fast. But I’m not doing anything but staying for a bit, and he’s…he’s good, Shane. He’s really good. And not even a little bit complicated, just solid and kind and—”
“—absurdly hot.”
I gave him a look, but didn’t disagree.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “That too.”
Shane leaned back again, eyeing the dregs of his coffee. “You think he’s the one?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question—not because I hadn’t thought about it, but because I’d thought about it too much. In the quiet moments between the sex and the laughter and the grocery runs, I’d caught myself looking at Beau like I already knew.
Like I already had.
It felt like gravity.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I think…I think he might be.”
Shane didn’t smile. He didn’t joke. He just nodded.
“I’m glad he makes you feel safe,” he said after a beat. “You deserve that.”
I looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.
“Thanks,” I said.
We both went quiet again. Beau was almost out of sight now, Hazel bouncing on his hip as Willow pointed at something down the block. Rhett walked beside them, laughing at something I couldn’t hear.
Shane cleared his throat. “So…when do I get to meet the rest of the cult?”
I snorted. “You just did. That was the high priest and priestess.”
“No shit,” Shane said. “And the guy he mentioned—Whit? Another brother?”
“Mmhm.”
Shane hummed under his breath. “…would there happen to be a gay one?”
I let out a surprised laugh, leaning on my elbows. “You just got here, told me I’m in a cult, and now you want to join?”
“I’m just asking about availability!” Shane said. “That’s it.”
I shook my head, the grin on my face so wide it hurt my cheeks. “I think Whit’s head over heels for his best friend…but I can ask Beau about Holden for you.”
Shane arched a brow. “Holden, huh? Sounds broody. Does he own a bookstore? Have a tragic backstory?”
I laughed, full and loud, the kind that came from somewhere deep.
“He just moved back to town,” I said. “You’ll like him. He’s a mess.”
“Perfect,” Shane said, raising his mug in a toast. “To cult recruitment and emotional breakthroughs.”
I clinked mine against his. “To queer Hallmark movies and socket wrenches.”
Outside the window, Beau glanced back once before disappearing around the corner, Hazel still clutched against his chest like she belonged there. And maybe—just maybe—I did too.
For now, though, I let myself sit in the warmth of the diner, my best friend across from me, a half-eaten biscuit in front of me, and a future that didn’t feel so scary anymore.