Her knees gave out a little as she sat.
Bear caught her elbow gently to help her ease into the cushions, then crouched in front of her like she was sacred, like she wasn’t the mess she felt like.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly.
She made a soft cry and bolted for the bedroom, the sobs caught in her throat. She didn’t close the door behind her, only sought the shadows to hide all that she couldn’t keep from him.
She stood in the bedroom shadows, listening.
The soundscape of her life, once silent and stifled, now stirred to life. The low whir of the vacuum. The rhythmic clink of dishes. Somewhere outside, the sharp hum of a lawnmower cut through overgrown stubbornness. It was chaos. It was comfort. It was them, those boys, that newly formed team, her people, carving order from wreckage.
Then Bear’s voice came, quiet and certain.
“Here’s a list and my card. Only get what’s on there.” She heard the jingle of keys. “Fly, you drive. No off-roading in my truck. I’ll kick your ass. Pick up something easy for dinner.”
A cocky response, muffled by distance. “You got it, boss.”
Footsteps retreated. Doors opened. Closed.
Silence reclaimed the house.
Bailee wiped at her face with the edge of her sleeve, no longer sure whether the wetness was sweat, tears, or something older.
She didn’t hear him approach, his training was too precise for that, but she felt him. Every instinct she’d honed in the field came online in a breath. The shift in air pressure, the heat, the scent. Bear. He didn’t just fill the room, he settled inside her like something she’d been hollow without.
“What are you going to do now?” she muttered, still facing the window. “Bathe me like an invalid?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “You’re going to cooperate.”
His hands settled on her shoulders, broad, warm, steady, and the weight of them sent a quiet collapse through her body. She exhaled. Sagged. The tension she’d been gripping like a weapon slipped from her spine, and she let it fall.
She turned slowly. Moved toward him. “You are way pushier than I even imagined.”
His mouth twitched. “Oh, Bailee…was that snark?” His voice gentled. “Are you feeling better?”
She snorted. “Smartass.” Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing on him even as her lips betrayed her with a curve. “Do I have a choice?”
“Yeah,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You have a choice.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the echo of his heartbeat against her own. “But I’d rather you be clean, comfortable, and ready for those three whirlwinds when they get back with hot food and enough groceries to resupply a forward operating base.”
She let out a soft breath. Almost a laugh. The corners of her mouth twitched again. Then, very softly, she whispered, “Okay.” Not surrender. Not defeat. Trust.
She moved slowly, deliberately.
With a wince, she eased her arm from the sling, the one that had been shoved just barely out of the socket. Pain flared, sharp and immediate, but she welcomed it. It was worth it.
Her fingers lifted, trembling just slightly, and found his face.
She laid her palm along the curve of his cheek. The heat of him soaked into her skin like sunlight after cold shadow. Her heart fluttered at the rough scrape of stubble beneath her fingertips. She cupped that strong, impossibly stubborn jaw and felt the pulse of him beat against her skin.
For a long moment, she just held him there.
The man who wouldn’t leave.
“Can you get me some clean clothes first?” she asked, her voice low, threadbare.
He let out a long, heated breath. Something between a sigh and a prayer.
“Point me in the right direction.”
