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He’s the owner.
Wincing,I hopped out of the truck, walking around the nose as I typed my response.
Jameson
Welp. Uhh, good luck with that.
Alessandra
LOL very sage advice there, BIG brother. No pointers?
Jameson
Get a new job?
Alessandra
And let him win?! Absolutely not.
I was still shakingmy head as I slid my phone into my back pocket and made my way to the front door. The house was warm with orange light when I stepped inside, something sweet and vaguely reminiscent of apple cider filled the air, and Noel had some swanky, jazzy Christmas music softly playing over the speakers, giving the whole thing a Norman Rockwell vibe nobody sane could have predicted I’d enjoy as much as I did. Go figure.
“Baby!” I barked, slipping from my boots and wondering where the hell she’d run off to. The kitchen was empty, nerves echoing in my center at her continued silence. As I rounded into the dining room, I found her standing expectantly, worrying that little bottom lip as she swayed her hips back and forth. She set the table for two, the nice plates and gold placemats her mother gave us, out on either side of a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed carrots.
“Welcome home,” she said sweetly, my heart skipping a fucking beat as I closed the distance to pull her against me. Noel melded into my frame like someone had carved her from it, the echo of old fear washing away as our bodies collided, doing all the talking they needed to without saying a damn word.
Home. We were home. Something buzzed in the energy between us, an electric anticipation. Pulling back to peer down at her, I canted my head, and she smiled nervously, biting that bottom lip again.
“What’s that look for?”
“I think…I think I figured it out.”
“Gonna have to give me more than that,” I said, studying her focus, something in my soul igniting at the energy vibrating off her.
“My…next step. I think I figured it out.”
Sucking down a breath, I offered her a smile, before pulling the chair nearest her out, as that was the gentlemanly thing to do. “So, wearecelebrating,” I insinuated. She sat, grinning timidly, before she nodded and I took my spot across from her. My Skittles was nervous, but there was a confidence underlying the motion that made me sit a little straighter as I swiped the open wine bottle and poured us both glasses. “Whenever you’re ready,” I said, motioning to the table expectantly.
“I may or may not have to go back to school,” she hedged cautiously. I chuckled.
“Alright,” I said, smirking at Noel squirming in her seat, anxiety palpably vibrating off her tight shoulders. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
“You’recute whenyou’renervous,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. With a little harrumph, she straightened her spine, steeling herself like I might reject this plan of hers. A sudden wave of anxiety hit my system. What if she was leaving? What if going back to school meantleavingMistyvale? “I want to start a foundation that helps women get out of unsafe situations. And before you point it out, I know there are hundreds all over the country. But I want ours to be different.”
Intrigue brought my forearms to the table, bracing myself, proud as hell as she stood her ground. “Go on.”
“I want the nonprofit to help them get legal protection, and safe, affordable housing, and liaise between law enforcement and lawyers with them, so it’s not so intimidating. I want to host yoga, and self-defense classes, and have a workplace wardrobe closet they can utilize to land a job that ensures actual financial independence—for a lot of them, it will be the first time they’ve felt that.” She shifted in her seat, straightening that tight little dress I was ardently trying not to think about. “To expand on that, I want to offer personal branding and business development classes, bring in volunteers to teach and take headshots—equip them with the skill sets and confidence to get out,andfeel safe doing so.”
With eleven siblings, I’d felt the rush of pride countless times in my life. But nothing had ever compared to the way my body thrummed now. She wasn’t my little Skittles anymore. She was a fucking phoenix, about to rise from the ashes of her old life, and she was all fucking mine.
“You need an investor? You know a grumpy old man with a passion for startups,” I said with a wink.
Before the words had even left my mouth, she was grinning and shaking her head, red curls bobbing where they now danced to her collar bone. “No. Thank you, though. I’ll secure donations myself.”
“You know I’m here if you need me.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “But I can’t teach them how to build their life in a way they can’t duplicate. And as much as I love your heart, you’re the one and only Jameson Rhodes in this world.”
“Well, Miss McShane, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a compliment,” I said teasingly, remembering those first combative days when she’d arrived on the island.
