Page 69 of Bear and Book

His mouth twitched, like the beginnings of a smile. “Together.”

We lingered on the porch until the fireflies came out, talking quietly, our hands still twined together. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was dragging Elias into my world.

He was stepping into it willingly, planting his feet beside mine. I knew, deep in my bones, that no matter how slow we went, no matter how many fears lingered, Elias was mine and I was his. Always.

Chapter 20

Elias

I woke slowly, the way you do when the night before had been full of noise and laughter and more food than you thought you could hold. My body ached pleasantly, my head heavy but not pounding.

I blinked against the pale light filtering in through the curtains, and for a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. Then the steady warmth at my side shifted, and it came back to me all at once.

Leo.

He was sprawled across my bed like the way he usually did. One arm draped heavy across my waist, his face pressed into my shoulder.

He’d snuck under the blankets sometime after I’d dozed off, and now he was plastered to me, radiating heat like only a bear could.

I should’ve been uncomfortable, pinned like this. Instead, I let myself sink into it. Into him.

“Morning,” Leo mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” I echoed, softer, my throat tight.

He cracked one eye open, grinning crookedly. “You’re staring at me.”

“Am not,” I muttered, though I hadn’t looked away.

Leo laughed, t he sound low and rough, warm enough to press deep into my ribs. He leaned up, kissed the corner of my mouth, then my jaw.

Lazy kisses, unhurried, like he had no intention of letting the day start without his mark on me.

When he finally rolled away, I felt the absence like a chill. He stretched, bones cracking, hair sticking up in every direction. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

“Don’t you dare,” I said, pushing myself upright. “You’d burn down my kitchen.”

Leo gasped dramatically. “You wound me. I’m an excellent cook.”

“You’re excellent at baking and eating,” I corrected.

He grinned like I’d paid him a compliment.

Still, I dragged myself out of bed first, tugging on a soft T-shirt and sweatpants.

My muscles protested, but in the way that made me feel alive. In the kitchen, I set about whisking eggs, heating butter in the pan.

The motions were familiar, grounding. Behind me, I heard Leo padding in, humming tunelessly, moving things around on the counter like he lived here. Which, honestly, he practically did by now.

Leo came up behind me, looping his arms around my waist, pressing his face against my neck. “You smell good.”

“I smell like frying eggs,” I told him.

“Exactly.” Leo chuckle rumbled against my back.

I should’ve shooed him away. Instead, I leaned into him, flipping the eggs while he refused to let go. Ordinary, ridiculous, domestic. My chest hurt with how much I wanted to keep this.

We ate at the small kitchen table, legs tangled under it, shoulders brushing. He shoveled food like it was a competition, then stole toast off my plate with zero shame. I let him.