Page 64 of Bear and Book

“Try me,” I said.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. I could hear the tick of the clock above the register, the faint hum of the kettle I’d forgotten in the back. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I didn’t look away.

For once, I refused to flinch.

Finally, Jason exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath. He grabbed his jacket from where he’d tossed it across a chair and slung it over his shoulder.

“This isn’t over,” Jason said, though the words lacked the weight they once might have carried.

“Yes, it is,” I replied. This time, I believed it.

Jason shot Leo a glare, but Leo didn’t move, didn’t need to.

Leo was a wall at my back, silent and unyielding. Jason must have sensed it too, because he didn’t push further. Jason turned on his heel and stalked out, the bell above the door jangling a sharp farewell.

After Jason stormed out, the silence of the bookstore felt different.

It wasn’t empty the way it used to feel on slow afternoons. It was clean, almost sacred. As if the air itself had been scrubbed of his presence.

My legs were still shaky, but my chest was lighter. I leaned against the counter, dragging in deep breaths, while Leo stayed close without crowding me.

His nearness was enough, steady as a mountain, grounding me while I tried to understand what had just happened.

“I feel like I’ve run a marathon,” I admitted, a humorless laugh catching in my throat.

Leo smiled a little, though his eyes were still watchful, fierce.

“You did more than run, Elias. You stood your ground. You didn’t let him take a damn thing from you this time,” Leo said.

I swallowed hard. The pride in his voice made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t used to. It felt like sunlight on a place that had been cold too long.

The bell above the door jingled as a pair of regulars walked in. Leo shifted back immediately, giving me room to slip into my familiar role.

For the next twenty minutes, I rang up purchases, gave a recommendation or two, all while my insides trembled. By the time they left, I felt wrung out.

Leo leaned on the counter, tilting his head toward the shelves.

“How about I stay the rest of the day? You shouldn’t be here alone after that,” he said.

“You have the bakery,” I said automatically, though the protest was weak even to my own ears.

“The others can handle it.” His grin softened, turning warm. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to play bookseller.”

The image of Leo hulking behind the counter, handing out novels with his big hands and easy smile, made me laugh for real.

The sound startled me. It had been buried under fear for so long, I almost didn’t recognize it.

“All right,” I said. “But no rearranging my shelves.”

Leo held up his hands in mock surrender. “Scout’s honor.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a strange haze. I let Leo fetch boxes from the back and carry stacks of books I would’ve struggled with.

He even charmed an elderly customer by recommending a cookbook she hadn’t noticed before, his golden-retriever energy lighting up the shop until I caught myself staring more than once.

I wasn’t used to to someone sliding so easily into my world, not demanding space but filling it in a way that made everything brighter.

When the last customer left and I flipped the sign to Closed, I realized how much calmer I felt. Still shaky, yes, but not alone in the shakiness. That was new. That was everything.