His jaw works, the mask of confidence cracking just slightly as he takes a half-step back.
“I’ll be back,” he spits finally, voice cracking in spite of himself. He jabs a finger toward me, his expression twisting into ugly desperation. “Mark my fucking words.”
Dean doesn’t wait, he slams the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame, the sound echoing through the suite like thunder. “Idiot…”
My knees give out before I can stop them, the adrenaline that kept me upright vanishing all at once.
I sink to the carpet, arms still locked around myself.
The tears come in a rush, hot and humiliating, spilling down my face faster than I can wipe them away.
I cover my face with both hands then, wishing I could disappear, wishing I could rewind the last five minutes and erase them entirely.
The dam’s broken now, every ounce of composure I’ve fought to hold onto these past years gone in an instant.
Jared’s voice still echoes in my ears, his words sharp as glass.
Didn’t tell them the truth. My kid.
The shame of it twists deep, tangled up with Dean’s startled glance.
It’s not even fucking true, but it’s not like I can tell them that or else the real truth will come out.
A soft rustle sounds beside me as someone kneels down. A hand brushes against my arm.
“Noelle,” Callum says quietly.
“Sorry,” I manage to choke out.
He pulls me in, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s going to be okay.”
11
CALLUM
My hands move slowly through Noelle’s dark hair, careful not to startle her.
The strands are soft, still carrying the faint scent of snow from the walk over.
She’s warm against my side, her body folded in on itself, limbs tucked tight like she’s trying to make herself small enough to disappear.
I shift a little, easing her closer so her head rests against my chest instead of the hard arm of the couch.
She doesn’t resist, just breathes in a shaky, uneven rhythm that gradually starts to calm.
I’d managed to get her onto the couch right before she completely collapsed.
One second she was trembling under my hand, and the next her legs were giving out, sinking her down onto the floor. Now she’s here pressed against me, silent except for the faint hitch of breath every so often.
Her walls are sky-high again, higher than I’ve ever seen them before.
I can’t exactly blame her for that. After what just happened, anyone would’ve snapped shut like a trap too.
Across the room, Dean’s got his phone to his ear, half-hidden by the little stretch of wall that separates the kitchenette from the living space.
He’s been there for almost fifteen minutes, pacing a short path back and forth, murmuring occasional replies but mostly listening.
I can’t make out every word, but I don’t need to. I canfeelRichard’s fury bleeding through the air even from here.
