Page 1 of Bear and Book

Chapter 1

Leo

There was something downright holy about mornings at Bear and Bun. The smell of cinnamon, sugar, and yeasty dough filled the air like a warm hug.

I had flour on my hands, music playing low from the little speaker we kept by the prep table, and Cassian humming under his breath as he kneaded a batch of dough next to me.

It was peaceful. Comforting. Like everything in the world was just the way it should be. I reached for the cinnamon jar and tossed a wink at Cassian.

“Bet I can roll and fill three trays before you finish that dough,” I told him.

He snorted. “You’ll burn them like last time.”

“That was one time.” I pointed a floured finger at him. “And I was distracted. That squirrel got into the display window. I was being heroic.”

“You screamed like a child,” he said.

“I startled with strength,” I said with dignity.

Cassian rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. That was a win in my book.

I lined up the dough and reached for the brown sugar, humming a little as I sprinkled it generously.

Cassian had his quiet rhythm, all precision and grace, while I was more of a kitchen tornado. A very cheerful, cinnamon-scented tornado.

The moment felt almost perfect. Except, of course, for the fact that my brain was still replaying my sister’s voice from this morning’s phone call.

"Have you found someone special yet?"

Her question had been soft, curious. Not judging, not really. But it had still lodged itself in my chest like an ache I hadn’t expected.

I pressed the sugar down with the heel of my palm, trying to ignore the twist in my gut.

“Nope,” I’d told her, keeping my voice bright. “No special someone yet, but I’m good. Really.”

She didn’t believe me. Not fully. Couldn’t blame her.

Truth was, I’d left our family’s den years ago because I couldn’t trust myself. My bear was... different. Fierce in a way that scared people. It was too protective, aggressive. Too much.

There’d been incidents. I’d lost my temper. Frightened folks who didn’t deserve it. And even when I tried to keep it buried, it bubbled up in ways I couldn’t control.

My sister tried to shield me. Mom tried to make peace. But it was easier for everyone if I left. She cried the night I slipped away.

I could still hear her voice on the wind as I walked out of the woods.

She thought it was her fault. That maybe if she’d done more, been louder, I wouldn’t have had to leave. I told her, over and over again, that it wasn’t on her. That I was okay.

That I’d figure it out…and eventually, I kind of did.

I wandered for a while. Town to town, odd job to odd job. Trying to find a place that felt like something more than temporary. But nothing ever fit.

Not until I stumbled into Sugarpaw Springs and met Beau. Beau saw through me in about five minutes. Offered me a job in three. A home in ten. And a family not long after.

These bears, and the wolves we sort of adopted, they were my clan now. Not by blood, but by choice.

And every morning I got to make cinnamon rolls for people who actually smiled when they saw me, who felt safer with me nearby. That meant something.

Still. I glanced at the cinnamon spirals and frowned.