Page 28 of Bear With Me

Bjorn paled slightly. “Just how sick is she?” he asked in a weaker voice.

Rowena waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll pull through, but she’ll need nursing. Perhaps your…friend.” She shot a doubtful glance at Dennis, who most definitely did not look like a nurse. “Can attend to her while you brush up on den protocols.”

Bjorn glanced at Dennis, who could only widen his eyes in a silent What the fuck, then looked back at his mother. “We’re not staying,” he said again, more firmly. “We’re going to stay as long as it takes Gran to stabilize, but then we both have lives and jobs to get home to.”

His father made a derisive noise. “Your little coloring hobby? You know that won’t be a reliable living, not like working for the den will be.”

“Papa.” Bjorn ground his teeth visibly. “I make a solid living as an illustrator. It’s not like I’m scribbling with crayons. And Dennis owns his own business and needs to get back to it.”

“Oh?” His mother suddenly looked interested. “What sort of business? Perhaps you can help us instruct Bjorn.”

Dennis wanted to do exactly nothing that would please this woman. “Oh, it’s a dive bar,” he said with false cheer, deliberately making his pub sound tackier than it was. “We get a lot of bikers and pool sharks. Fights sometimes. You know how it is.”

Rowena's nose went into the air. “Ah. So you will not be useful, then.”

Shots fired. Luckily, Dennis was largely immune to that sort of talking-down, mostly because he rarely gave a shit what others thought. And a little because these people were obviously idiots to begin with, so their opinions especially didn’t matter to him. He just offered Bjorn's parents a cold smile. “Bjorn can ‘color’ at my bar.”

Bjorn shot him a warm look, silently thanking him for the support, Dennis thought. “What kind of living I make is irrelevant, anyway,” Bjorn said, turning back to his parents, “because it’s not feeding into the den accounts except for my tithe, and I’m not moving back to the den.”

His mother's left eyebrow went up haughtily. “You will do as you are told, my boy.”

Dennis snorted. As if that was going to work. He’d already learned that Bjorn could be as stubborn as Dennis could; Bjorn just somehow did it with a smile on his face. Both Bjorn and his father reacted to the noise by turning to look at him. “Something to say?” sneered the father.

Before Dennis could snark back, Bjorn broke in, his voice low and dangerous all of a sudden. “You haven’t had control of me and my life since I was a teenager, Mom. What makes you think I will bow down now?”

“Well, we need -” began his father, but his wife cut him off with a slash of her hand in the air.

“You have a duty to your parents,” she insisted, “and to your den.”

“Mom, I’m barely a member of the den anymore. I moved away ten years ago. I pay my tithe, but that’s it. And I’ll remind you, again, that I’m only here today to see Gran. Now, if you have nothing else of interest to talk about, I would very much like to see her.”

His mother's lips tightened disapprovingly, but she apparently decided she wasn’t going to get any further with the current strategy. She nodded slightly. “Very well. You may go to her, but remember that the alpha wants to speak with you afterward. Do not,” she added threateningly, “ignore that summons.”

Without dignifying that order with an answer, Bjorn pushed to his feet. “C’mon, Dennis.”

Dennis was only too happy to get out of this stifling room and away from Bjorn’s overbearing parents.

“But don't forget our plans!” Rowena added, throwing out a hand as if to stop them. “We need to arrange -!”

Bjorn just shook his head. “Arrange your own life, not mine.” He looked at Dennis. “Let’s go. We can walk to Gran’s from here.”

Silently, Dennis allowed himself to be led out of the house and back into the main clearing. As soon as they entered the space and found it empty except for the parked cars, with no spectators, Bjorn seemed to deflate, letting out a huge breath and leaning against the side of Dennis’s truck. “Fuck,” he breathed.

Dennis patted his shoulder awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to reassure this man without erring too far on either the side of too brusque or too familiar. “You ok?”

Bjorn just shook his head. “They’re…it is what it is, I guess. Let’s go see Gran.” He took one more deep breath, let it out, and then straightened up. “She’s this way,” he said, gesturing with a jerk of his head to a path that led to the left. “I’m glad I still have my key, so she doesn’t have to get out of bed to let us in.”

Dennis hummed his understanding and followed Bjorn into the trees yet again. They walked for perhaps five minutes before coming upon another small cottage, this one painted a bright purple with a red door.

9

Bjorn

Gran had always had interesting taste, Bjorn mused as they approached the colorful cottage Gran lived in. Bjorn rapped on the door and then quickly unlocked it himself without waiting for a response. “Gran?” he called, sticking his head through the doorway. “It’s Bjorn. I came to see how you’re doing.”

A crepey voice drifted from a room off to the right of the entryway. “Bjorn? Oh, heavens! Come in!” There was the sound of rustling bedding, and then a low curse. “Damn blankets. Why am I wrapped up like a sausage, anyway?”

Dennis looked like he was trying not to laugh at how put-out she sounded as he followed Bjorn deeper into the house. He paused when they started to cross a living room and put a hand on Bjorn’s arm to stop him. “Should I wait here?” he asked urgently.