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His head shakes slowly. I feel like an ass for asking.
“It’s all right.” I pull the weighted blanket over us and smooth his damp curls off his forehead.
“We’re together, okay? That’s real life. It feels good to be in bed with you.”
“I know.” He shudders once more, just the barest little tic across his shoulders. I rub in between his shoulder blades, and pretty soon, he’s breathing evenly again.
The next morning, Barrett meets an inspector down at the studio. I spend my morning taking samples from the pond in the enclosure, then packaging them up and sending them off via UPS to a lab where they’ll be tested to ensure the water’s safe and healthy for the bears.
The nearest UPS place is downtown near Helga’s office, which is good because I have an appointment with her in two hours. I shower, and as I leave, I spot the paper bag from the Native American store on the counter. On the outside of it, Barrett had scrawled his friend’s address. I fold the bag closed, setting it on the passenger seat beside the little box of water samples. Before I open the garage, I peek inside, my intention to make sure it seems ready to mail. Barrett told me it was, but since he’s not around, I want to be sure.
When I look inside, I see a square of my thick, papyrus “GW” stationary and find myself reaching for it. I want to see Barrett’s handwriting again, but that’s not the only reason I unfold the note. I still want to know him more. Want to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Want to know his friends. I tell myself there’s nothing personal in such a short note, and open it before my conscience can kick in. I feel a pleasant jolt at the sight of his familiar handwriting.
THANKS FOR WATCHING MY BACK, BROTHER. -BEAR
I bring the note to my chest for a second, then slide it back in.
H
alf an hour later, I’m paying the woman at the UPS store, and she’s telling me about how her pet parrot has gotten into the habit of telling all her houseguests “Go clean those feathers, honey!” when I realize…I’m laughing. Really laughing, right here in the store. I’m laughing, and on my right side, someone tall is maybe laughing, too.
I turn my head as I get my receipt and change, and my gaze catches on a pair of pale blue eyes. Heat sweeps through me as I realize he’s familiar: his hair is red like mine; he’s tall and built, kind of like Barrett…
The guy from the moccasin shop.
I give him a small smile, more to push out of my comfort zone than anything else. He gives me a wink, and when I turn to go, I think I feel him right behind me. Then I push the door open and I see Barrett’s smiling face, and the guy is forgotten in the warmth of Bear’s arms as he pulls me to him and I melt against his body, my arms twined around my neck, until an older couple smiles at us from down the sidewalk, and we laugh and they laugh, like we’re a spectacle, and I think maybe we are.
“Let’s get lunch,” he says. We hold hands and walk to a little sandwich shop with old-fashioned, burnt-orange, plastic booths, Coke clocks with swinging hands all along one wall, and a green glass vase with a carnation poking out the top beside the napkin holder.
Barrett smiles with mustard on his lip and tells me about the inspection.
“The place is perfect.”
He’s glowing, which makes me smile, too.
His leg rubs mine under the table as he talks. We brush each other’s fingertips as we sip soda and Barrett eats his sandwich, then the rest of mine.
“How about your morning, Piglet?”
We talk through a drink refill, top our lunch off with peppermints from this adorable little glass jar by the door, and latch hands as we step into the sunlight. It’s a balmy, humid day, springtime-warm.
“How’d you find me at the UPS place?” I ask.
Barrett smiles. “I was watching for you. Want a walk to Helga’s office?”
“Yes.” I lean my cheek against his arm as we walk slowly toward her little, white brick building. “You’ll go home after?”
He nods. “Unless you want me to stay. I could kill some time down here. You need anything done?”
I smile, and Barrett smirks. “That’s some Cheshire Cat stuff there.”
“I know.” I laugh. “That line is every woman’s wet dream.”
We nuzzle each other outside Helga’s office, and Barrett agrees to meet me here in fifty minutes.
“I’ll pick up a helmet for you. Pink?” His brow quirks up.
I nod, smiling.
