Page 83

Then, slowly, she brought it down.

Her fingers brushed the top of his massive head, right between the ears. He could see her surprise at his surprisingly soft fur. Brutus leaned into her touch — just barely — a tiny shift of his enormous weight toward her hand. He let out another long, contented sigh and licked her palm slowly a few times, his tongue rough and warm.

Sage made a small, involuntary sound. Soft. Wondering. Like she’d just discovered the world could be both terrifying and impossibly gentle at the same time.

She glanced at Cal. Then at the grizzly. Then, softly, she said, “H… hey Brutus… hey… who’s a good boy?”

Brutus licked her again and snuggled deeper, his massive head pressing more firmly into her lap. Then he opened one enormous eye and poked the bag of cookies with his nose.

Sage laughed, delighted. “Ahhh ha! I see what you’re doing, you little rascal.” She opened the bag and fed her new friend a cookie. Brutus then rose, face-to-face with her, and licked her cheek and forehead until she fell backward gently onto the porch cushions, giggling helplessly.

“Okay… okay!” she said, still laughing. “Stop! Oh my God, bear slobber!”

Brutus sniffed and huffed affectionately before padding toward the stairs. He paused to nudge Cal’s hand with his huge head, then made his way down to the barn for his nap, the heavy thud of his paws fading into the night.

Sage sat there, still a little shocked, staring after him. “He does like me!”

Cal nodded, warm and knowing, as he helped her up and gathered her things.

“Told you so, sweetheart.”

16

SAGE

The fire crackled warmly in the massive stone fireplace, sending golden light dancing across the grand two-story great room. Heavy, honey-toned wooden beams soared high overhead, their thick timbers glowing in the firelight like the ribs of some ancient, welcoming beast. A second-floor balcony wrapped around the space, its rustic railings catching the soft sparkle of string lights. Tall, multi-paned windows revealed the dark silhouette of the forest beyond, while the wide-plank hardwood floors stretched out beneath a large, intricately patterned rug in rich earth tones.

The room felt alive with comfort. The deep, oversized leather sectional sofa piled with plush pillows and soft throws, a heavy wooden coffee table, and warm pools of lamplight that made every surface feel inviting. The air was thick with the scent of burning pine and hickory, mingled with the sweet, chocolatey aroma of a hot drink nearby.

Sage sat curled on the deep sectional, legs tucked beneath her, the half-empty bag of cookies resting in her lap like a treasured secret. A mug of hot chocolate had appeared on the side table without her asking—rich, steaming, and topped with a few tiny marshmallows—because this was apparently the kind of household where things like that just happened.

The firelight painted warm flickers across her face and hands. For the first time in what felt like forever, her shoulders were relaxed, her breathing slow and easy, the fear, despair, and sickness from before, far away now, like it had been a dream.

She took another slow bite of her cookie, eyes half-closed in pure contentment. They still somehow seemed perfectly warm, the insulation of Mary Sue Ellen's take-out bag defying both physics and good sense. The chocolate chips had softened to that perfect melty-but-not-melted stage, and the dough carried that rich, buttery chew that whispered someone had made them with love.

The fire popped softly, sending a shower of sparks dancing up the chimney like tiny golden fireworks.

She heard him before she saw him — the quiet creak of the wood floor. Cool night air and woodsmoke scent drifted in with him, still clinging to his flannel. For a second the whole grand room seemed to shrink around his solid frame, like even the massive beams and oversized sectional had to make room for him.

“What’s so funny?” Cal asked as he came fully into view.

Sage giggled, the sound bubbling up before she could stop it. “Nothing… I just feel bad for you.”

Cal set a large, dark mug on the side table — his own, steaming gently — and eased his big frame into the leather armchair across from her.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Sage pulled another cookie from the bag, bit into it slowly, and watched him over the top of it, the warm chocolate melting sweetly against her tongue. “Cause…” She sighed with mock sadness, glancing down at the gooey treat. “…you look like you could use a nice warm cookie.”

Cal hesitated and then reached for the cookie bag, slow and intentional.

She pulled it away just as slowly, cradling it protectively against her chest with a small, playful smile.

“Nope,” she said.

His hand hung in the air for a moment. He looked at it, then at her.

“Those were a gift,” he said, voice low and warm. “Technically, to both of us.”