She turned into her driveway, killing the engine. Daniel pulled up to the curb, rolling down his window.
“All good?” he called.
“All good. Thanks for the escort.” She gave him a thumbs up. “See you around.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Lock your doors, Greta.”
She waited until his taillights disappeared around the corner before she climbed out, Atlas jumping down beside her. The night had grown colder, her breath clouding in front of her face as she grabbed her bag from the back seat.
Movement across the street caught her eye. Bear sat on his front step in the dark, no light behind him, just a massive silhouette against the night sky. He stood as she turned, crossing the street in bare feet despite the forty-degree temperature. He wore gray sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination and a thin t-shirt, like he didn’t feel the cold at all.
“You okay?” he asked without preamble, stopping at the edge of her driveway. “It’s after eleven.”
“I’m fine.” She hoisted her bag higher. “Just had to check on something at the shop.”
His eyes narrowed. “At midnight? In your pajamas?”
“I was already in bed when I got the alert.” She shrugged. “Some asshole tourist was messing with my trailer. Slashed a tire, tried to break into the equipment shed. No big deal.”
Bear didn’t buy it for a second. “That’s not random vandalism. That’s targeted.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping. “You report it?”
“Not yet. I will tomorrow.”
“You should call it in now.” He was close enough now that she could see the worry etched into the lines around his eyes. “This kind of thing can escalate if not dealt with.”
“I know how to handle myself, Bear.” The protectiveness in his voice should have annoyed her—she’d spent her whole life proving she didn’t need looking after—but instead, it sent an unwelcome warmth through her chest. “I’ve been running that business for five years. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“I’m not saying you can’t handle it.” His voice gentled. “I’m saying you shouldn’t have to. Not alone.”
The simple statement knocked the wind out of her. No one had ever put it that way before—not as a weakness on her part, but as a basic right. To not have to face everything alone.
She found herself wanting to tell him everything—about the flat tire, the pry marks, the way Daniel had looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. About how sometimes, in the dead of night, the weight of everything she carried felt too heavy for one person.
Instead, she said, “I’m good, Sasquatch. Really. But thanks.”
He studied her face, looking for the lie, then nodded. “If you need anything, I’m right across the street.”
“I know.” The words came out softer than she’d intended. “Get some sleep.”
He hesitated, then turned and crossed back to his house, his massive form moving with surprising grace. She watched him go, a strange tightness in her chest.
Inside, lights off, Atlas already curled on the bed, Greta stared at the ceiling and wondered why Bear’s protectiveness had felt safe—even sexy—while Daniel’s had made her skin crawl. The difference was in the asking, she decided. Daniel had told her what she needed. Bear had offered, then stepped back when she said no.
She rolled onto her side, punching her pillow into shape. It had to be a tourist. Some drunk looking for easy gear to steal, who’d gotten spooked when her security system tripped. Nothing more sinister than that.
But as she closed her eyes, all she could see was Bear’s face in the darkness, concern etched into the lines around his eyes. And despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have those strong arms around her, to feel the solid wall of his chest against her back, to?—
“Nope,” she told the empty room. “Not going there.”
But sleep, when it finally came, was filled with dreams of a giant with gentle hands and eyes that saw right through her walls.
three
Bear gripped the steering wheel hard enough to crack the plastic as they pulled away from Solace High. Logan slumped in the passenger seat, earbuds firmly in place, eyes fixed on the passing storefronts of Main Street. The guidance counselor’s cheerful “He’ll fit right in!” echoed in Bear’s head. He didn’t see how the sullen teenager beside him would fit in anywhere, let alone a small-town high school where everyone had known each other since kindergarten.
But Bear had nodded, said the right things, filled out the paperwork while Logan sat in silence, arms crossed, hood pulled up. He’d hoped—stupidly—that getting Logan enrolled would be the first step toward something resembling normalcy. That maybe the structure of school would give the kid something to focus on besides hating him.
Instead, the whole experience had been a fresh reminder of how little he knew about his own son. The guidance counselor had asked about Logan’s academic history, his interests, his goals… all questions Bear couldn’t answer. He’d stumbled through explanations, making things up as he went, while Logan stared at the floor and refused to make eye contact with anyone.
