Page 51 of Bear and Book

Leo tightened his hold around me. He murmured my name, half-asleep, and pressed a lazy kiss into my hair. The simple act undid me more than any grand declaration could have.

My phone buzzed again on the nightstand, another message from Jason lighting up the screen, I didn’t move to check it. Didn’t care.

Jason could stay in the past where he belonged. Because I was here with Leo.

Chapter 15

Elias/ Leo

ELIAS

“Morning,” Leo murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

The sound of it rolled through me, warm and husky, like sunlight sliding across old wood. I still wasn’t used to this, used to waking up next to Leo every morning.

I swallowed the knot in my throat and managed, “Morning.”

I turned my head on the pillow. He was sprawled there beside me, golden and bare-chested, one arm thrown over his head, hair sticking up like he’d fought with the pillow in his sleep and lost.

Leo grinned when he caught me staring, sleepy and crooked, the kind of grin that snared something deep in my chest.

Then he leaned in and kissed me, slow and sweet. Unhurried, like we had nowhere else to be.

My toes were cold. They always were in the mornings, no matter how many blankets I piled on. I couldn’t resist pressing my feet against his calf.

He jerked and barked out a laugh, the sound of it bursting through the room.

“Elias!” Leo yelped, eyes crinkling with amusement. “That’s just mean.”

“Consider it payback for hogging the covers,” I said dryly, though my lips tugged upward despite me.

He retaliated by wrapping me tighter in the blanket, cocooning me in his warmth. Leo smelled like coffee, sugar, pine, and something that was just Leo.

I wanted to memorize it. Keep it tucked away somewhere I could reach for on the harder days.

We lay there longer than we should have. He murmured about runs he wanted to take later.

About how Beau was threatening to make him test new bread recipes, about Addie calling to nag him for not visiting.

His voice painted the room full of ordinary things, simple things, the kind of things that made life feel safe.

Leo finally got up reluctantly, dragging his hands across my chest like he didn’t want to let go.

“We’ll run later,” Leo said as he tugged on his shirt. “Then dinner. Then tomorrow, too. You and me.”

Every word tugged hard at my heart. He said them like they were facts, carved into stone. Like tomorrow was something he didn’t question.

I’d never known how badly I needed someone to talk about tomorrows until Leo did it with such conviction. And then he kissed me one last time at the door. Deep, grounding.

When the door closed behind him, the silence he left wasn’t jagged the way it used to be when I was alone. It was softer, like an afterglow.

I moved through my routine. I showered, drank coffee, notebook in hand as I jotted down the day’s tasks.

Inventory check. Reorder on classics that were selling faster than expected. Dusting the top shelves. I always wrote everything out in lists, as if words could keep the chaos at bay.

By the time I stepped outside, keys jingling in my hand, Sugarpaw Springs was already humming awake.

The air carried the scent of fresh bread from Bear and Bun, sharp coffee from the café down the street, and the faint tang of pine on the morning breeze.