I don’t want this. Whatever this is.
I don’t want him.
I say it again in my head, trying to make it true.
I don’t want him.
But even as I think it, I know I’m lying.
12
TOLIN
Icouldn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. The confusion. The fear. The way she looked at me when I refused to answer her questions.
What do you want me to say?
I don’t know! An explanation? An apology? Something that makes any of this make sense?
And what did I give her? Nothing. A half-assed apology and a closed door.
My mother’s voice echoes in my head, relentless.Be vulnerable. Be honest. You can’t earn her trust while you refuse to be honest with yourself.
I made her breakfast. I cleaned the cabin. I gave her extra blankets. But when she needed the one thing that might actually matter—answers—I shut her out.
I’m still hiding. Still protecting myself when I should be fighting for her.
Not anymore.
The kitchen is warm from the fire I built up before dawn. I’ve been cooking for an hour, trying to get it right.The first batch of pancakes came out too thick. The second batch burned on the edges. The third batch is... acceptable. Not perfect, but close enough.
I arrange the plate carefully. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese the way humans seem to like them. A glass of orange juice. A cup of coffee, even though the smell makes my nose itch.
Then I sit down at the table.
And I wait.
My bear paces inside me, anxious and restless. He wants to go to her. Knock on her door. Drag her out here and make her listen.
But that’s not how this works. That’s not how I win her.
I have to let her come to me.
The minutes stretch. The food starts to cool. I’m about to give up and cover the plate when I hear it—the soft creak of her door opening, light footsteps down the hallway.
She appears in the kitchen doorway and stops.
Her eyes move from the food to me. I watch her calculate—retreat or engage. Her body tenses like she’s about to bolt.
“It’s getting cold,” I say.
She doesn’t move.
“I’m not going to bite.”
Her expression shifts. Not quite amusement, but close. “That’s not very reassuring coming from a bear shifter.”
