She put her forehead on the steering wheel and focused on breathing.
She wasnotgoing to do this here. She was not going to lose it in front of Bear.
But her body betrayed her. Her shoulders shook with each hitched breath. Bear put his hand on her back, and that’s when the dam broke. A sound came out of her, pulled up from somewhere she’d been keeping it for fifteen years. It tore through her chest and out of her throat, a howl of grief and rage and bone-deep loss that had no words.
Atlas nosed at her from the back seat, whining and licking at her face. King also gave a deep, anxious rumble.
She hated worrying the dogs, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe past the pain crushing her chest.
“Oh, Jesus, Greta.” Bear sounded pained as he scooped her out of the seat and dragged her onto his lap, folding his big arms around her. “Shh, I’ve got you. I’m here.”
The words were so gentle, so unexpected from this mountain of a man, that they only made her cry harder. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other pressed against her spine, holding her against that solid wall of his chest. He smelled like pine and spearmint and that underlying scent that was just Bear, and she buried her face in his shirt and let the tears come.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and into hers. “Let it out.”
She should push him away. She didn’t need his pity or anyone else’s. But her hands fisted in his shirt instead. His heartbeat was steady against her cheek, a counterpoint to her ragged breathing.
Dammit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be falling apart in front of him, letting him see the raw, broken parts of her she kept hidden from everyone.
“I don’t need you to rescue me,” she mumbled against his chest.
He was quiet for a long moment, his hand still moving in slow circles on her back. “I know you don’t, Tinkerbell. But I’m still not letting go.”
“I’m not Tinkerbell.” She sniffled and finally pulled back, wiping her face with the heels of her hands. She must look like hell—eyes swollen, nose red, face blotchy—but Bear didn’t look away.
His dark eyes searched hers. “Better?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Her throat felt raw, scraped out from the inside.
Bear reached into the back seat and grabbed a bottle of water from her pack on the floor, cracking it open before handing it to her. “Drink.”
She obeyed, and the cool water soothed her throat. “Thanks.”
He nodded, gaze still fixed on her face. “You want to talk about it?”
“No.” She squirmed against him. “You can let go of me now.”
“I don’t think so.”
His arms stayed locked around her. Maybe it should’ve felt smothering or humiliating, but it didn’t.
It felt… safe.
She relaxed into him and stared out the windshield at the pines and the mountaintops looming over them. “I really thought this time might be different. I get my hopes up every fucking time, even when I tell myself not to. Every single lead, every tip.” She laughed, the sound broken. “I should know better by now.”
Bear’s hand came up to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushed away a tear she hadn’t realized was still falling.
“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay to be disappointed.”
She turned her face into his palm. “I’m not disappointed,” she admitted softly. “I’m devastated. But I would’ve been just as devastated if it had been Alice. It was always going to be lose-lose.”
“Why do you think I came?” His thumb traced the line of her jaw to the corner of her mouth. The touch was electric, sending sparks racing across her skin.
She should pull away. Should thank him for the comfort and get back into the driver’s seat, start the Jeep, and drive them back to Solace.
But Bear had been showing up for her for months now. Maybe longer. Quietly. Steadily. Like gravity.
And suddenly she was so tired of pretending she didn’t want him.
