Bear just stared.
“Of course you did. She was tipsy, and you never drink to excess. Daddy’s influence.”
Bear’s fist tightened. Zorro’s words were too true to counter, so he didn’t try.
He swallowed, the pain of his daddy’s blows long healed, but the memory of what caused them never faded. The smell of whiskey. The sound of a chair scraping back. The way the air tightened right before the storm hit. Drinking was a good way to lose control, and Bear fought that every step of the way, on ops, in the field, with the people who got too close. Even with Bailee. Especially with her. She was the one person who tempted him to lose that hard-won control, to feel, to speak, to want, and that upended his world. His whole life had been one long effort not to turn into the man who’d raised him, or to want anything enough to risk becoming him.
“Now? Poof. You’re pushing your rotation forward. Call me crazy, but I don’t think you’re that eager to make sugar cookies and ice pops in the surf.”
“Don’t start.”
“I already started. Hell, the whole team did. Buck thinks it’s guilt. Blitz says denial. Joker says I should mind my own goddamned business.” He snorted. “Want to know what I think?”
“No.”
Zorro didn’t blink. “I say she scares the hell out of you.”
Bear’s jaw flexed. “You got too much time on your hands.”
Zorro uncrossed his ankles and let the chair drop. “Wasn’t it you who came to me when I was swimming laps in Rio, half out of my mind over Everly? Wasn’t it you who talked me down? You speak your mind when it’s one of us, but when it’s you, amigo, you clam up.” He pointed the glass at him. “Spill it. I’m not leaving till you do. I’ll drink you out of house and home.”
Bear shut his eyes. The truth burned in his throat. “I fucking want her.” He swallowed hard. “But when we kissed, she said it was a mistake. Her words were pretty clear. Not with you.”
He opened his eyes, and Zorro’s expression showed everything Bear needed right then, everything he’d never had, never asked for, never even hoped for.
Love without demand. Attention without a price. Were those even possible?
As a boy, Bear had learned that asking cost too much. His mother came home from double shifts with her shoulders bent and her eyes half-closed. No matter what he needed, he set it aside for her. Don’t ask. Don’t need. Don’t add weight.
He’d carried that lesson through every loss that followed, Thatcher’s death, Ayla’s disappearance, through every quiet night when the wind over Pine Ridge had sounded like grief breathing. Silence was his armor, his way to love people without burdening them.
Bailee had been clear.
But with his team, he should have known better. These men were part of him, deep in his bones, bound into the fabric that made him whole. They were trying to keep him from vanishing behind silence, but he had his ways of coping, and they would accept that. His way.
Zorro squeezed his shoulder. “All I can say is welcome to the pain, to knowing she’s the only one who makes you feel complete. Distance isn’t always the answer, but with Bailee, it might be.” He shrugged. “I don’t care what she said. She wants herself a piece of the grizzly. Her words might push you away, but her eyes and her body told a different story.” He brushed past, smirking. “Go after what you want, Dakota. Fight, talk, work it out. If she’s worth it, and she is, then your time’s worth it.”
Bear stared out at the drive, jaw tight. Silence filled the space between them, heavy and familiar. It wasn’t his time he was worried about. It was his heart and respecting her wishes. Burdening her with his needs was out of the question.
The quiet stretched, then broke with the sound of his cell phone. The tone they both recognized. The team was getting spun up, and something caught in Bear’s chest.
Zorro checked it and sighed, then focused back on Bear. “Hey, stand outside her house and beat a war drum. Get her attention. You’re about to teach a whole class of men what it means not to quit, so lead by example.”
“You’re an idiot. You know that?” Bear growled.
“Maybe.” Zorro’s grin flashed. “But you know what else I observed?” He tilted his head. “I’ve seen the way you look at her…that’s how Joker looks at Pippa, Blitz at Bree, Gator at Izzie, and so on. You think you’re the only one terrified? Join the rest of us on this crazy train.”
Bear’s throat tightened. “You done yet?”
“Not even close.” Zorro grinned. “I was hounded the same way, hermano. Get used to it.” He waved as he started down the steps. “Next time, I might be sitting in a chair by your bed.” He switched to Spanish, spinning a finger beside his temple. “Cierra la puerta, loco. Lock your damn door.”
“You’re the one who’s loco,” Bear called. “I did lock the door.” He watched Zorro leave, that lazy stride eating up the path back toward his house. “Stay safe,” he called, asking the Great Spirit to watch over them. These men he loved like family.
Zorro stopped. “Six fucking months without our dog handler.” Bear swallowed hard. “Admit it. You’re going to miss us.”
Bear looked away, realizing that everything that had happened to him was affecting the team. Even when he tried to get something for himself, he still burdened others. “I will miss you. I approved the new handler. Benedicto “Razor” Margosa, dog’s Raider. He’s sharp and his partner is lethal.”
Zorro shook his head. “I’m sure he is. You would never leave us hanging.” He turned to go, then stopped. Bear wished he wouldn’t say anything, but that just wasn’t Zorro’s style. “It won’t be the same without you and Flint, Dakota, and you know it. Give them boys hell and get us some good new blood on the Teams. The brotherhood waits.”
