Page 77 of Bad Blood Bear

Chapter 33

By the time Tank got to the Georgia mountains it was dark, and he had an excuse to put off his errand until the next day. He’d called ahead and arranged to spend the night at his neighbor Ben’s house, and pick up the keys to the cabin he’d shared with Angie, that Ben had been taking care of on his behalf.

The next morning, Tank left Ben’s house and drove the familiar road to the place he’d once called home. Emotions assaulted him as he drove—it all was so familiar, and yet seemed completely alien. It was only a year and a half since he’d been here, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed.

A lifetime he wanted to forget.

He’d always known, deep inside, that he’d have to come back here, face his feelings about Angie and what had happened to her, and decide what to do with the place.

It was the only way he would ever move on. Before this, he hadn’t wanted to move on. He’d been like a ghost haunting this place—unable to live in it anymore, but unable to let it go.

Now it was time.

As he drove over a curving hillside, he could see the cabin in the distance. Angie had loved the view from their home, and he’d loved the way he could see the house long before he arrived, anticipating his homecoming every day as he drove home after work.

It was odd, seeing the cabin sitting snug on its hillside, as if he’d never left it. When he let himself think about it at all, he always pictured the house as a complete wreck, burned or destroyed. That was the way he felt about his life, so it seemed as though the house had to reflect that.

The road curved down another hillside and he lost his view of the cabin. After another quarter-mile he turned into the graveled driveway and drove up the last hill, the yellow autumn grass glistening with frost.

And then he hit the brakes, staring in disbelief.

Lissa was sitting on the front steps, wearing her pink jacket and bunny boots. She was holding a cup of takeout coffee in both hands, sipping on it.

Tank pulled the truck up next to the house and got out. Lissa smiled uncertainly at him as he approached the steps.

“Hi,” she said. “Want a chocolate croissant?”

She held up a brown paper bag.

Tank stared at her, completely stupefied. “What are you doing here?” he asked finally.

“Waiting for you,” she said simply. “I knew when Flynn told me you left hat you were coming back here, and I knew how much it would hurt you. I didn’t want you to have to do it alone.”

Tank was stunned. She’d come all this way, still healing from her wounds, because she didn’t want him to be alone and hurting?

She was standing two steps up, so she was nearly as tall as he was. Tank stepped forward and leaned in, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you first. It was just something I needed to do alone.”

She shook her head. “It’s something you think you should do alone. Guys always think they need to do emotional stuff alone. What they really need is someone to hug them.”

That got a huff of laughter out of him. “Is that all we need?”

“That, and frequent boinking.”

That got a bigger laugh, and he pulled her in for a hug. They stood there for a few minutes, just holding each other. Finally he said, “I think you may have something there. With the hug theory.”

“Just call me Little Dr. Phil Bear.”

“Should I even ask how you got here?” he asked, reveling in the feel of her, how she could make him feel better just by being hear him.

“Well, I was going to take the Greyhound overnight, and then walk like a bear the rest of the way. I was even going to make a bearpack so I could take my clothes.” She tapped her forehead. “Always thinking.”

He grinned.

“But then I remembered we have a real crew now, and crews help each other. So I talked to the others and Sloane and Xander offered to drive me.”

They’d driven all the way to Georgia overnight for him and Lissa?

“And those asshats just left you here alone?”