He didn’t press further. Just turned back toward the kitchen doors.
I watched him go, my chest tight with guilt and uncertainty. Had I just made a bigger mess by lying? Would he tell Beau?
And if he did… would that be the end of this fragile little thing I was building here?
I wasn’t ready to lose any of it.
Not the bakery, not the late-night dough-making, not the weirdly affectionate chaos of these bear shifters who’d started to feel like something dangerously close to family. And definitely not Beau.
BEAU
The clinic was a quiet, nondescript building tucked between an abandoned gas station and a laundromat two towns over.
No signs, no logos. Just a worn wooden door and a single porch light that always buzzed like a mosquito. The kind of place people only found if they were looking for it.
I parked around the back like always. Less visible. Fewer questions.
The inside still smelled like lavender and antiseptic. Calm and clean in a way that set my nerves on edge. I hated coming here. But I hated the alternative more.
“Beau,” a familiar voice called from the back room.
Dr. Lira emerged, short and sturdy in her knitted cardigan and jeans, her curly salt-and-pepper hair pulled back with a pencil.
She wasn’t just any healer. She’d once been part of my old pack, back when things were still bearable. Quiet, practical, andunflinchingly kind. The only one I trusted to lay hands on me now.
“Doc,” I said with a nod.
She gave me a once-over, her eyes narrowing. “You’re limping.”
“Just a twinge,” I said.
“Mhm,” she muttered, not buying it. “Shirt off. Let me see what kind of mess you’ve made of yourself this time.”
I sat on the table and peeled my shirt off with a quiet hiss, the familiar burn rippling down my back as I moved.
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped behind me and started her examination with practiced hands.
Her fingers were cool, gentle but firm, probing the jagged knots of scar tissue that never quite healed right. I tried not to tense, but it was instinct.
Lira knew. She didn’t say anything, just kept working.
“You’ve got more inflammation than last time,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Did you do the stretches I showed you?”
I hesitated. “Sometimes. When I remember.”
Lira sighed, loud and exasperated. “Beau. I know you’ve got a bakery to run, but ignoring your body isn’t going to make you stronger. You’re one bad twist away from locking up entirely.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
“You’re not fine,” she said, wrapping a fresh compression bandage around my waist. “Levi’s claws practically shreddedyour back, Beau. That’s not something your body just shrugs off, no matter how big your bear is.”
I grunted. She was right, and we both knew it.
She paused for a moment, her voice softening. “I think Levi knows I’ve been treating you.”
I stiffened. “What?”
“I don’t know how. Just a feeling. I was near him last week. He looked at me too long. Something in his eyes. You know how he is. Sharp as ever.”
