Chapter 45. Is Love Enough

Chapter 45. Is Love Enough
 Nolie POV
“God…” I whispered, pressing my palm to the cold glass.
From the window, I could see them — the flashing blue and red lights staining the driveway, the sheriff’s men standing like they’d rather be anywhere else. And then there was Zorak.
He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t need to.
The way he stood — calm, straight, silent — was enough. The sheriff looked like he’d piss himself. One of the younger officers kept shifting on his feet, eyes darting toward the cars like he was praying for permission to run.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I didn’t need to. Zorak’s body said everything. The stillness. The authority. The kind of quiet that makes even strong men forget how to breathe.
A few minutes later, the cops started backing off. Hands up, nodding, apologizing. They were gone before the engine noise even faded.
And Zorak just stood there for a second. Watching them leave.
Then he turned — not toward the house, like I expected — but toward the farmhand’s quarters.
My stomach twisted.
Oh no.
I gripped the window frame so tight it squeaked. He was heading right where I’d been earlier. The woman. The one who’d given me the small white packet before the bullfight.
He’s going to find out.
My heartbeat climbed fast, pounding in my throat. My fingers went to my mouth before I could stop them, nails biting down on skin.
“What are you doing, Nolie,” I muttered under my breath. “You idiot, he’s going to find out.”
I paced the room once, twice. My chest still felt tight from the smoke, my hair still smelled faintly of fire. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the barn — flames licking the walls, the boy falling, the heat swallowing everything.
I should’ve run then.
But where?
My eyes flicked back to the window. Zorak was gone from sight now. The porch light near the servants’ quarters was on.
I could almost feel his presence there — heavy, calm, dangerous.
Then suddenly, as if he’d felt me watching, he looked up.
Our eyes met — through glass, through distance — and just for a second, everything stopped.
I thought his stare would accuse me. But it didn’t.
It was soft. Still. Like he was telling me — without a single word — It’s handled. You’re safe. Relax.
My chest eased a little. My hands dropped to my sides.
The porch light near the barn flickered. A door slammed once, hard — the sound carried through the quiet night. I knew it was him. Handling things, cleaning up messes I didn’t have the courage to face.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing for a long moment. Then I picked up my phone.
The screen glowed pale against the dim room. I didn’t even think before pressing the call. My mother’s name.
It rang once. Twice.
Then — “Nolie?”
Her voice. Soft. Familiar. Home.
I exhaled, shaky. “Hi, Mama.”
“Oh my God, baby, are you okay? You sound… are you crying?”
“No,” I lied. “No, I’m fine. Just… tired.”
“Tired,” she repeated. “You sound like someone who hasn’t slept in years.”
I laughed — a small, broken sound. “Maybe that’s accurate.”
There was a pause. Then, quietly, “Did something happen?”
I looked out the window again. The night was still. “Something always happens, Mama.”
She sighed. “You and that life of yours… I told you, you should’ve never—”
“I know.” I cut her off gently. “I know. But I didn’t call for that.”
“Then why did you call, my heart?”
I stared down at my hands. There was still soot under my nails. “I just… needed to hear your voice.”
That wasn’t the whole truth. But it was part of it.
“Do you remember,” I said, “when you used to tell me that love was supposed to hurt a little?”
She chuckled softly. “I said that?”
“Yeah. You said love wasn’t about being safe. It was about choosing someone, even when it scared you.”
Another pause. “Are you scared, Nolie?”
“I think I am,” I said quietly. “I think I’m scared because I might actually love him.”
Her silence said more than words.
Then — “Does he love you back?”
I hesitated. My eyes went to the window again. To where he’d been. “He protects me,” I said. “I don’t know if that’s love, but it feels like it.”
She hummed softly. “Your father protected me too. In his own… messy way.”
That made me sit up a little. “Mama… can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How did you know? That he was the one?”
She laughed gently. “Oh, I didn’t. Not right away. He was wild, reckless, dangerous. But when the world turned on me, he stood there and said, ‘You’ll never face them alone.’”
Her voice softened. “And he kept his word.”
I felt something tighten in my chest. “You think love is enough?”