Chapter 17 Noelle
Noelle
The fire crackled low in the firepit, casting long shadows across the grass and licking lazy sparks into the air.
The smell of charred wood clung to my hoodie, my legs tucked under me on a faded blanket that probably predated the Clinton administration.
My beer was half-warm, but I wasn’t about to get up—not with the way Beau’s thigh pressed against mine, his arm around me.
Willow had grabbed a bag of marshmallows to pass around, but had forgotten the graham crackers, so we were eating them right off the skewers. Shane currently had one over the fire, flames catching as a drop of mallow melted into the fire.
“You’re burning it,” I muttered.
He turned the stick like that might fix it. “It’s caramelizing.”
“It’s not an onion,” I said. “You don’t caramelize a marshmallow.”
“Actually…that is what it’s called,” Beau cut in. “Sorry to side with your friend here, but…that golden crust on the outside? That’s the Maillard reaction. Technically caramelization.”
I gaped at him. “How the hell do you know that?”
“I like cookin’,” Beau said. “And I was an A+ student in chemistry.”
“And he’s smart, too?” Shane asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Jesus.”
I huffed, shoving Beau gently. “Traitor.”
We all went quiet for a moment, the only sounds the crackle of the fire, the clink of bottles, someone’s low laugh from the porch.
June and Silas were sitting on the top step, her head on his shoulder, lost in conversation as Silas drew lazy circles on her back.
Ivy and Ash were sitting on Shane’s other side, Ivy scrolling her phone while Ash side-eyed Holden, who was trying to instruct Ivy on how best to roast a marshmallow.
Delilah was half-asleep on a wooden bench, her legs draped over Whit’s lap, his hand resting delicately on her calf like he couldn’t believe she was touching him.
It was domestic and weird and perfect.
And somehow, it didn’t scare me at all.
The fire popped, and I leaned in closer to Beau, nestling into his warmth. No one batted an eye at us—though I saw Rhett smile a bit, nudging Willow. The two of them sat like royalty presiding over the family, matching camping chairs set side by side.
This…this was peace.
Delilah cracked an eye open, looking over at Shane.
“So are you movin’ in too, or just stayin’ for the wedding?” she asked.
Beau choked on his beer, sputtering. Milo, who had spent the past hour snoozing on his knee, woke up just long enough to lap up the stray drops.
Shane took it all in stride, shaking his head as he pulled the marshmallow out of the fire. “I’ve gotta get back to Austin at some point,” he said. “Lucky for me, I’m the one who gets to deal with studio space, speaking engagements, contracts…Noelle gets to be the off-grid eccentric.”
“Hey, I earned that right,” I told him.
“Not saying you didn’t—just making it clear I’m not relocating anytime soon,” Shane said. “But I will come back for the wedding.”
I blushed, but I didn’t argue. It was a joke, right? A common, funny joke to make about couples who were joined at the hip.
I hadn’t even told Beau I loved him…but somehow, everyone else already knew.
Delilah sat up, Whit moving his hand to poke the fire with a stick. Nobody seemed fazed by the prospect of me and Beau getting married…it just seemed like an inevitability.
“Are you even going to get an episode out of this?” Delilah asked. “Seems like a shame to have been detoured and not cover any of our local legends.”
“I don’t know, don’t seem that bad,” Rhett said. “Wouldn’t want people swarmin’ all over lookin’ for monsters.”
“The Gloamstrider, right?” Shane gave me an accusatory glance. “Noelle made it seem like it was just local weirdness. Said she got a few interviews, a few photos of the festival…figured I’d slap it together for a bonus drop.”
“Oh hell no,” Whit said. “Not just weirdness. I’ve seen it.”
“Here we go again…” Delilah muttered.
Whit leaned forward, eyes catching the firelight. “I’m not kidding. Foggy Creek. Last week. I saw it again.”
I turned toward him. “You didn’t mention that.”
“You were a little preoccupied,” he said.
“Yes, we all know they’ve been fucking like rabbits,” Shane said, drawing a surprised snort from Rhett. “But I’m much more interested in the story.”
“You cannot trust him,” Delilah said. “Not only is he very frequently stoned in the woods, he’s also a liar.”
“You’re frequently stoned in the woods,” Whit shot back.
“Yeah, but I’m not trying to convince anyone Bigfoot is roaming around in Ashmore County,” she said.
“Can you two stop flirting so Whit can give me the scoop?” Shane said.
That shut them up. Delilah stood up, whispering, “Gross,” under her breath before she headed up the porch steps past Silas and June.
Whit leaned an elbow on his knee, marshmallow forgotten. “It wasn’t Bigfoot. And it wasn’t a bear…or a deer, or a wildcat, or nothin’ like that. I know what I saw.”
A chill crept up my spine at the mention of a wildcat. That’s what people had said about the Painter, too…and it drew my eyes to the darkness at the edges of the yard, the woods behind the house.
Beau raised an eyebrow. “You see it clear this time?”
“Clear enough,” Whit said. “It was tall—like, too tall. Lanky. Moved wrong. Like it was gliding instead of walking. And the woods went quiet when it showed up, like everything just stopped breathin’.”
The fire popped, sending sparks into the air. Nobody said anything.
Until Holden spoke.
“I’ve seen it too,” he said.
Every head turned.
“You?” Shane asked, blinking.
Holden didn’t flinch. “Yeah, when we were kids…me and Whit used to sneak out of the house at night to go throw rocks off the big bridge out at Foggy Creek. I didn’t tell anyone because I figured I’d imagined it. But Whit’s description matches.”
Ash narrowed his eyes. “Same shimmer eyes?”
Holden nodded. “And that weird sense of pressure in the air. Like…something was bending the space around it.”
Shane went very still. Then: “Okay, now I’m listening.”
I could see the gears turning behind his eyes—the same gears I’d watched spin every time we got a new lead.
He was switching into story mode.
…and that meant he was almost definitely going to haul me out into the woods for some kind of factfinding mission.
“I mean, we’ve got two sightings, same location, consistent description, temporal separation, no confirmed hoaxes,” he muttered. “That’s enough for a mini-series at least. Maybe even a cross-season thread.”
“Or,” I offered, “it’s just the same weird fog tricking two people in the same place.”
“Sure,” Shane said. “And that’s what we’re gonna find out.”
He turned toward Whit. “We need a route. Points of contact. Exact timing. I want to interview both of you separately. And if there’s anything out there, we’re bringing the full setup—night-vision, EMF, audio recorder, IR cams. I’ll get the episode arc down before I forget it…
three parts minimum. First one’s the setup—festival, folklore, initial sightings.
Second is the investigation. Third is the fallout. ”
“The fallout?” I asked.
He nodded. “Something always happens. Could be mundane, could be mind-blowing. Either way, we follow the thread.”
Beau muttered under his breath, “You’re gonna get us all killed.”
I smirked. “You scared?”
“Not scared,” he said. “Just not in a rush to meet somethin’ that glides.”
“Wasn’t it you who said the woods were safe around here?” I asked.
“Around here, yeah,” Beau said, holding me closer. “The woods around Foggy Creek are a whole other thing.”
Shane cleared his throat. “Anyway, you free this weekend?”
Beau gave him a skeptical look. “You serious?”
“I’m dead serious,” Shane said. “If we wait too long, the trail goes cold.”
Whit nodded. “Gotta move fast. The Gloam’s a liminal zone. Stuff don’t stick around long.”
“Did you just say liminal zone?” Holden asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a real term,” Whit said.
“Yeah,” I added. “It means thin space. Between worlds. Places where the veil’s thinner, where weirdness bleeds through.”
“See?” Shane pointed at me like I’d just made his case for him. “And who better to explore a thin place than us? A podcast host with a burning need for truth and his rapidly domesticated cohost.”
I threw a marshmallow at him.
The marshmallow bounced off his chest and landed in the dirt, but Shane didn’t even flinch. He just grinned at me, eyes sharp behind the firelight.
I’d spent most of my life trying to outrun the things that haunted me.
But maybe it was time to look one of them in the eye.