Page 10 of Bear and Book

I’d know if it were wrong. And I knew this man, this storm-eyed fox with too many walls and not enough light, was mine. Even if he didn’t feel it yet or tried to ignore it.

I could wait. I’d be patient. Okay, not super patient, but I’d try. Because the bond wasn’t about rushing. It was about being there when it mattered.

Right now, that meant scrubbing floors and patching leaks and making him smile when he clearly didn’t want to. Elias looked over at me again. I smiled, because of course I did.

“Thanks for helping,” he said, voice low, like he hadn’t meant to say it at all.

He didn’t meet my eyes, but his tone was warmer than before.

I stepped a little closer. Just enough that I could feel the edges of his aura brush against mine. Just enough to make my bear sit up and take notice again.

“Anytime, Elias,” I said, soft and real. “Seriously. Anytime.”

* * *

ELIAS

The shop was quiet after Leo left. I stood in the middle of the back room, fingers brushing the patch he’d made near the cracked window.

It wasn’t elegant. It was just some old weatherproof tape and a slab of cardboard from one of my ruined book boxes, but it held. It was warm here again. Dry. Almost comfortable.

Dang him. I curled my fingers into a fist and dropped my hand to my side with a frustrated exhale.

Golden retriever in bear’s clothing. That’s what he was. All smiles and sunshine and oversized optimism, stomping through my space like he belonged in it.

I didn’t ask for help. Not really. I’d muttered something about needing it, but I hadn’t expected the town to send someone like him.

I’d imagined a wolf shifter, maybe. Some gruff local handyman with a polite nod and zero interest in conversation. Instead, I got Leo.

He talked too much. Smiled too often. Moved like the world was a place worth bounding through. It was exhausting just being near him. And worse, it was…something else too.

I rubbed the back of my neck and turned toward the front of the store, my boots squelching faintly on the warped floorboards.

The rug was still drying, but the musty smell of wet wool and old paper was already fading under the scent of cinnamon and pine.

He hadn’t even brought any cinnamon rolls with him, and somehow, he still managed to make the room smell like sugar and comfort. God help me.

I paused at the counter, resting my palms against the edge.

The broken mug was gone. The scattered paperbacks sorted. Even the back storage room looked halfway organized for the first time in years.

He'd worked hard. I couldn’t fault him on that.

Leo hadn’t asked for praise or lingered too long. He just smiled, flirted in that gentle, good-natured way, and left like he hadn't cracked something open in me.

And he had. Bugger him again. Because I’d felt it. The potential between us.

That strange, gut-deep pull that settled behind my ribs the moment I looked at him. I’d been trying to ignore it for hours, but it lingered now like the scent of rain in the air.

I knew what it meant. I wasn’t a pup anymore. I knew the signs. The aching awareness. The bone-deep recognition. The way my instincts quieted when he smiled.

The way the world didn’t feel quite so sharp with him in it. Fated mates. It was supposed to be beautiful. Destined and magical.

I hated it. I hated that the universe thought it could send me someone like him, someone young, bright-eyed, brimming with hope.

Did they expect me to just open the doors to my life and let him in? It was a cruel joke. A bad one. Because I knew how that story ended. Jason had taught me.

My fingers drifted to the chain around my neck. I was left with the bookstore. With the promises. With the ring around my neck like an old scar.