“That sounds suspiciously like fate,” Doreen replied, arching an eyebrow.
“Maybe it is.” Sorcha took a sip of her tea, watching Doreen over the rim. “Would that be so terrible? To let something good happen without questioning it to death first?”
The fire popped and hissed, sending up a shower of sparks as Doreen considered this. Bash twitched in his sleep, paws moving as if chasing dream squirrels. Outside the window, snow had begun to fall again, large flakes drifting past the glass in lazy spirals, turning the world beyond into a soft, white blur. So comforting. So cozy.
Yet Doreen felt nothing but confusion.
“I’m scared, Sorcha,” Doreen admitted, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “I don’t want to repeat the heartbreak of my past. I don’t know if I trust my own judgment anymore.” The confession felt raw, exposed, like peeling back a bandage from a wound that hadn’t fully healed.
Sorcha reached across the space between them, her hand finding Doreen’s. “There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re being careful because you’ve been hurt. You’ve learned to protect yourself.”
Doreen’s throat tightened with emotion. She squeezed Sorcha’s hand, unable to speak for a moment. The words sank in slowly, touching places inside her she kept carefully hidden.
“Don’t close the door before you give yourself a chance to open it,” Sorcha added softly.
Tears pricked at the corners of Doreen’s eyes, hot and unexpected. She blinked them back, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. Sorcha’s words echoed inside her, resonating with something that had been quietly growing since that first moment James had looked at her in the snowy parking lot. A look that had given her hope.
Could she trust this feeling? This quiet, persistent unfurling in her chest whenever she thought of him?
Sorcha released her hand, reaching for her tea again. She rested her other hand briefly, unconsciously, on her stomach before taking a sip. The gesture was so quick, so natural that Doreen almost missed it.
Almost.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, taking in Sorcha’s glowing skin, the herbal tea instead of coffee, and Christopher’s protective touches. A suspicion bloomed in her mind, unexpected and incredulous, but she pushed it aside. Surely Sorcha would have told her if…
Christopher’s voice drifted from the back of the cabin, followed by Jake’s excited response. Bash’s ears perked up at the sound, but he remained sprawled contentedly by the fire, too comfortable to move.
“Do you think...” Doreen hesitated, gathering her courage. “Do you think I’m being foolish? About James?”
Sorcha’s expression softened. “I think it’s time you let yourself have something good,” she said quietly. “And James is the kind of man you can put your trust in, and he will not let you down. Believe me…”
Was she ready to believe?
Yes. Maybe she was.
Maybe it was time to stop slamming doors on anything that looked like happiness… and crack one open instead.
Chapter Ten – James
With unbridled joy, James’s bear ran through the forest. Across the mountains, he called home. The place where he could be himself. It was ancient, immovable, unshakable in its permanence. The kind of place that made human worries seem small and fleeting.
Snow flew up in soft, glittering bursts with each stride as the forest opened and closed around his massive bear body, trees parting like dark sentinels as he ran. The night air knifed past his fur, sharp and clean and exactly what he needed. He drank in the icy cold with every breath, his lungs burning as he tried to quiet the noise in his head.
Her name echoed through his mind with each heavy footfall, with each breath that steamed in the winter air. She was all he could think about, her smile, her scent, the way she looked at him.
Not that he wanted to forget his mate. But he needed clarity. Only then would he be able to see the way forward. The way to win his mate’s heart. Her soul.
And conquer her fears.
Not by force. Not by pressure. But by showing her, moment by steady moment, that she was safe with him. Safe in ways she had forgotten she could be. His bear didn’t understand caution, but James did. And he’d walk at her pace, no matter how slow the beginning needed to be.
His friends ran with him, as they had for so long, their rhythm familiar as his heartbeat. Christopher’s lean dark shape kept pace at his flank, brushing him now and then in a silent check-in that said everything without a sound. Michael thundered a littlebehind, heavier, solid, dependable. Daniel ranged a little wider, nose dipping toward interesting scents before he surged forward again in long, eager bounds.
Damn, he needed this run.
Restlessness had crawled under James’s skin all day, tightening like a knot inside him. He’d tried to shake it off — with work, with chores, with pretending he didn’t replay every word Doreen said in that soft voice of hers — but it only grew heavier. Want and worry mingled until he couldn’t tell one from the other.
His bear paced inside him, yearning to move, to act, to claim… but James held firm. Patience. She deserved nothing less.
