Page 31 of Bear and Book

“You might lose something. But you might gain something too. You ever think of that?” Leo pressed.

I opened my mouth, closed it again. The fox in me bristled, restless. He was getting too close to something I didn’t want touched.

“I don’t,” My throat felt tight. “I don’t do well with⁠—”

“With risk,” Leo finished for me. “Yeah, I figured. But you don’t do well with regrets either, do you?”

There it was, the push I’d been bracing for. Only it didn’t feel like a shove. More like a hand extended, steady and patient.

I stepped closer before I could talk myself out of it. Not much but just enough to feel the pull of him, the faint trace of soap and cinnamon from the bakery clinging to his sweater.

“I’m not promising anything,” I said.

“Wasn’t asking you to,” Leo pointed out.

My fox stretched, testing the air between us. The urge to close it was unbearable. So I did.

I leaned down, close enough that my breath stirred the hair at his temple.

“But I am saying I’d like to try again. Without running this time,” I finally said.

The words tasted strange in my mouth.

It was like they belonged to someone braver, someone who didn’t spend years avoiding the kind of risk that came with letting another person matter this much.

My heart was hammering hard enough I was half-certain he could hear it. Still, I meant it.

His head tipped back, eyes locked on mine, and the look he gave me made the air in my lungs feel too thin.

Whatever restraint I had left, the carefully built walls, the polite distances, the constant little calculations about how close I could get without getting hurt. It burned away.

The kiss was slower this time.

No collision of heat and panic like before, no flinch halfway through. Just deliberate movement, my mouth finding his like it had been waiting for this all along.

Heat flared between us, sharper than I remembered, curling low in my chest and tightening my grip on his sweater.

His hands came up to rest lightly on my hips, warm and steady, like he was giving me every chance to pull away. I didn’t want to.

Some part of me, the one that still counted escape routes and thought about where to stand if the floor gave out, was stunned I hadn’t moved.

This was where I usually retreated, where the panic rose high enough to drown me.

But right now, with his fingers pressing lightly into my sides and the taste of him still lingering on my lips, I wanted to stay.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing harder, I searched his face for the thing I dreaded. The smugness, the I-knew-you’d-come-around look.

I couldn’t have handled that. Not when I’d just handed him more of myself than I’d given anyone in years. Instead, Leo looked pleased. And maybe a little stunned himself.

That made my chest ache in a way I didn’t know how to name.

“Okay,” I said, my voice low and a little unsteady.

My fox was pacing inside me now, restless and wary, but the pull toward him was stronger than the fear. “I’m asking you something now,” I added.

His brows lifted, a flicker of curiosity sharpening his gaze. “Yeah?”

I straightened, trying to ignore the way my lips still tingled from the kiss, the way my stomach was caught somewhere between panic and something dangerously close to excitement.