He ends the call and lets out a long, tired sigh before leaning his body back against the counter. For a few seconds, neither of us says anything.
The only sounds are the ticking of the heater in on the other side of the room and the sounds coming from the hallway outside the door where Grant disappeared a few minutes ago to follow Jared outside and make sure he actually left the property.
It feels like forever before I finally break the silence. “So. He’s been bothering her for months?”
Dean nods grimly. “According to her dad. Said the guy wouldn’t take the hint after she dumped him last Christmas. Cops couldn’t do much, apparently. Not enough evidence for a restraining order and no physical proof other than her word against his.”
My brow springs up. “Even though Richard was a former fire chief?”
Dean nods. “Guess that shit doesn’t mean much when you’re retired.”
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, my hand curling into a fist.
He glances at me. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That if he shows his face again he won’t walk away without a few broken bones?” I say, voice flat.
Dean’s mouth lifts in a humorless smirk, but there’s no argument in it, just tired understanding. “And that we need to keep tabs on Noelle and Eli. Keep them close to us until the psychopath gets dragged into jail.”
I exhale through my nose and turn to look back toward the couch.
Noelle’s still asleep, her breathing soft and even now, but her brow creases every few minutes like she’s still fighting behind her closed eyes.
She shouldn’t have to fight this battle alone, but the problem is she’s not exactly the kind of person who lets anyone fight her battleswithher.
For whatever reason, besides the obvious, she’s built her life in a fortress with no room for anyone else to get close.
Especially notus.
Which means keeping her and Eli close long enough to protect them?
Yeah, it’s going to be a pain in the ass to get her to listen.
I run a hand over my face, dragging it down slowly, then glance back at Dean.
He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the soft light bleeding from the light overhead.
“You think he was telling the truth?” he asks.
My brows lift, the question catching me off guard. “About what?”
He lifts his chin toward the door, toward the memory of the bastard’s words still ringing in both our heads. “Her ex. About Eli. You think he’s actually the father?”
For a moment, I just stare at him.
My mouth stays shut, not because I’ve got nothing to say, but because I’ve gottoo much. The words from earlier come back to me again, “didn’t tell them you’ve been keeping my kid away from me?”
Along with the way Noelle’s whole body went rigid when he said it, how her voice shook, how she couldn’t even meet our eyes after that.
My gut reaction is simple:no way in hell.
The man strikes me as a liar, an abuser, a drunk who gets off on breaking whatever’s in front of him like a little kid bored with their toys.
I saw it the second he opened his mouth.
But then I think of Noelle and how she flinched when Dean looked at her, how she fell apart the second the door closed and the certainty wavers.
Not because I believehim,but because there’s something in her silence that scares me. I cross my arms, stare down at the floor for a long moment.
