Two adjoining rooms, one door between them, and a view of the town buried under a thick blanket of white.
The windows are frosted over, the wind rattling faintly against the glass.
When we step inside, the space is lit by the soft, yellow glow of a couple of lamps.
The heater hums steadily, running off the generator, and the faint scent of coffee fills the air.
Grant stands as soon as we walk in, his broad frame filling most of the space.
He’s got that look on his face again—the one that saysI’m finebut never quite hides the worry beneath it.
When his eyes land on Noelle and Eli, his whole demeanor shifts. His gruffness softens instantly, replaced by something quieter, almost reverent.
“Welcome in,” he says, sweeping a large hand awkwardly toward the space. “Got it warmed up for you. Cal said the storm was getting bad.”
He gestures toward the couch where a pile of folded blankets waits, and the Keurig on the side table is already brewing, steam curling from a fresh mug.
Noelle starts to shrug off her coat, shaking snow from her dark curls, but before she can even set it aside, Grant moves.
“Here, let me,” he says, already stepping forward.
He’s got it bad for her.
But hell, don’t we all?
Noelle, oblivious or just pretending to be to the sudden shift in the air, thanks him softly before crouching beside Eli to help him take off his coat and boots.
She avoids eye contact with any of us, keeping her head down.
When Eli’s finally free from his winter layers, he springs back to life. He spins once in the middle of the room, his socks sliding slightly against the carpet. “Woah! This place ishuge!”
Grant chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Glad you approve, little man.”
Noelle smiles faintly, smoothing her son’s mop of curls back from his face. Her touch is tender. “Say thank you to Mr. Grant for letting us stay.”
“Thanks!” Eli beams, throwing his arms out wide like he’s about to hug the entire hotel suite.
Grant’s reply comes out in his usual low rumble but his grin betrays him. He’s smiling in a way I haven’t seen in years. “Anytime.”
I can’t help myself. “What, are we chopped liver?”
Noelle’s head snaps toward me, her eyes widening just slightly before she laughs, quick and nervous. “And…Mr. Dean and Mr. Callum,” she adds, her cheeks blooming with a healthy pink.
“Thank you!” Eli sings out again, repeating it louder this time before bolting toward the couch and catapulting himself onto it.
The cushions dip under his small weight, and he bursts into laughter as he bounces before collapsing into another heap of giggles.
“Easy there.” I grin.
I hang back near the door, peeling off my wet gloves and gathering up our drenched coats and boots.
The small hotel closet creaks open, and I carefully arrange everything inside, putting the boots up on the rack to dry and coats draped neatly over the hangers.
I don’t know how long Noelle and Eli will be here, but judging by the snow still whipping past the window, it’s not going to be short.
The five of us fall into a strange rhythm after that.
We order an early dinner from the hotel kitchen—sandwiches, soup, fries, and hot cocoa for the kid—and eat together in the main room.
