Page 45 of Step Brother Bear

“He was a packmate, works for the Department of State. He can get us passports and on a flight. I’m not the first shifter to get into a mess.”

“I thought your pack disowned you.”

“It was an ultimatum, really.”

“Ultimatum?”

“Either I claim my mate, so I retain my humanity, or leave the pack and become feral in isolation.”

“And you chose isolation?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me. You were living in New York and had a boyfriend. I would choose you over and over again, but I didn’t think it was possible for you to choose me back.”

My heart swells. I kiss him again. Before it gets too deep, he pulls back. “Let me call him.” He stands with his phone to his ear as he exits the cabin, leaving me alone with the dead guy. I may have an uncanny ability to retain the contents of my stomach in the presence of the deceased, but I’m not a psychopath. I don’t like being alone with the corpse.

I look around the shack for something to keep me busy. My poorly-packed duffel bag is still here, along with Derek’s scattered belongings. I stand to collect everything and restuff my bag. We won’t be able to return home. The items in this shack will be our only earthly possessions. I wish I could have foreseen this ending and packed better, a fucking bra at least. It doesn’t matter, though. I don’t need anything. For the first time in my life, I’m at peace. No more anxiety. No more uncertainty. No matter where we go in the world, I’ll be where I belong—with my mate, my stepbrother bear.

Derek reenters the cabin. “You ready?”

I shrug, both of our bags on my shoulder. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He stomps toward me, lifting me to his arms and kissing my lips. “I hope you like the cold.”

“The cold?”

He nods with a smile, stepping over a puddle of blood and carrying me off into the sunset. It’s almost like the end of a fairy tale—a fucked up fairy tale—except it’s so much better, because it’s really only the beginning.

Chapter 20

It’s dark outside. It’s always dark, except for the few slivers of sunlight shining from the bottom of the horizon that only peak out during the height of the day. A log cracks in the fireplace, and I pull the blanket tighter over my shoulders. I hit post and sigh. I’ve spent hours creating the graphic and composing the perfect caption. My eyes strain from the excessive blue light, and I roll the crick out of my shoulders. I check the time at the bottom of my screen. “Jesus Christ, it’s already 5 p.m.?”

He should be home by now.

Someone knocks on the front door. My insides solidify. Only very few people know we live up here, out in the icy wilderness. We don’t have neighbors, and Derek wouldn’t knock. I contemplate staying still and pretending no one’s home, but if someone is knocking, it must be for a reason. I shuffle on socked feet over the hardwood floors to the front door, peeking through the peephole.

I exhale, swinging the door open. “Gerald, I totally forgot it was mail day.”

His smile shines and the lines around his eyes crinkle. “That’s the start of winter for ya, the days bleed together.”

“Yeah, I’ve realized that.” I rub my arms, the cold permeating through my sweater. I could hurry this conversation to escape the weather, but it’s not often that I actually get human interaction, especially now that it takes so much effort to shovel snow to get into the town half an hour away.

“How you kids doing up here?” Gerald asks, peeking behind me into the cabin.

“We’re good! He’s out fishing on the glacier right now.”

He shakes his head, “Man, he’s like a wild animal with those fish. You two have quite an operation for so few hands.”

I laugh. “He’s pretty skilled, that’s for sure.”

“Well, how’s business going? I tried some of the dill pickled salmon with lunch yesterday, and boy was it delicious.”

“Oh, that’s so good to hear. Business has been good! I’ve just been busy marketing and packaging online orders.” I drag the large box from the wall nearest me, pushing it closer to Gerald, who scoops it up.

“And I saw that they’re stocking all your pickled salmon flavors at the general store now!”

“Yeah, apparently they already sold out, so we have to run down there to give them another crate soon.”

“That’s great. So great to hear.” He takes a step back, examining the front of our house, the heavy box still in his hands. “I see you painted. Love the robin egg blue.”