Returning to Bear’s apartment felt a little too much like returning to the scene of a crime.
Which, Raegan supposed, it sort of was, considering she’d been squatting for months.
She truly had tried to find someone to buy or rent the space, but it was small and crowded and the noise from the coffee shop below made it a tough sell. She should’ve emailed Bear the day she’d gotten the crazy idea to use it as her makeshift studio. The place just had such good lighting, such a pretty view of the river, and she already had a key and . . .
Enough excuses. She owed the man five months’ worth of rent and an explanation.
But that was not what drew her to Bear’s doorstep this morning. No, it was the thought of those two kids waking up to mostly bare cupboards and an empty fridge. In other words, no breakfast. Save for the bag of Twizzlers. Unless Bear had scarfed that down, too.
Regardless, he’d obviously been in no shape to think ahead last night.
Whereas she hadn’t been able to stop thinking. Wondering. So here she was, standing on his second-floor doorstep and knocking, white paper bag in hand and eyes cast to the gray sky where lolling clouds hovered thick and threatening.
Her gaze strayed down the block while she waited to be let in. The line of buildings, pastel siding and colorful awnings, ended in a smudge of brown at the far end of the block. The vacant building with its ruddy, weatherworn brick and faded white letters—Hay & Feed Store—had long been the riverfront’s sole eyesore.
But it never failed to evoke a poignant mix of gooey happiness and heartfelt longing in Raegan. Mom had loved that old, abandoned building, never tired of telling the story of her and Dad’s first date there.
“Never have two trespassers had such a wonderful, romantic time as we did that night.”
Thunder rumbled overhead. If Bear didn’t let her in soon, she might end up ducking raindrops on the way back to her bike. She probably should’ve opted to drive into town this morning.
But anytime she could avoid getting behind the wheel, she did. Even if it had been one year, seven months, and sixteen days. Maybe one of these days she’d allow herself to stop counting. Maybe eventually she’d be able to stop remembering . . .
Just as she lifted her hand to knock again, the door creaked open. But it wasn’t Bear standing on the other side. It was the little boy—Jamie, right? His brown-almost-black hair, same shade as Bear’s, poked out every which way, and it appeared he’d slept in the wrinkled red T-shirt and jeans he’d clearly grown out of months ago, considering his ankles and bare feet poking out underneath.
His shoulders drooped as he let out a breath. “You’re not my mom.”
Enough disappointment churned in those four sighed words to wrench rather than tug at her heart. And all the questions that’d kept her awake last night flooded in all over again. Why was Bear here? Why were the kids with him? Where were their parents?
And how could he have gone five years without mentioning them? Erin would’ve been born during the years Bear lived in Maple Valley. He’d never said a word.
The first raindrops plopped on the wood landing around her feet. “Your name’s Jamie, right? My name’s Raegan. Can I come in?”
“You’re a stranger.”
The sky growled above. “I’m your Uncle Bear’s friend. Can you get him?”
“He’s still sleeping.” The voice came from behind Jamie. Erin peeked around her brother, her thick, dark hair mashed to her head in waves. She wore a long cotton shirt. No pants. “He snores.”
“Erin,” Jamie hissed, “go back to the bedroom. She’s a stranger.”
Raegan couldn’t help a charmed grin. These kids were so cute they could almost give her own niece a run for her money. Not that she’d ever dare say so to Logan.
A raindrop tapped her cheek. “Jamie, you’re a good older brother for looking out for your sister, but I promise I’m a friend. I even brought breakfast.”
Erin clapped her hands behind him. “Yay, I’m hungry.”
Raegan pulled out her phone. “Look, I’ll even prove that I know Bear.” She scrolled through her photos. “Here’s a picture of me and him.”
It was the only one she hadn’t deleted in the weeks following his move. Call her sentimental.
Or just plain pathetic.
Whatever. So she’d had a crush on Bear back then. What was so wrong with that? The man had a heart-melting smile and strong arms and he played guitar and sang. What normal, red-blooded, unattached girl wouldn’t form a few romantic notions about a guy like that?
Plus, he’d somehow managed to live in Maple Valley for years without spilling a slew of personal details. In other words, he was the closest thing this gossipy little town had to a man with a mysterious past. It only added to his appeal.
But she’d had more than enough time to get over him. The photo on her phone? Just a happy memory. Nothing more.
Jamie looked from her phone to her face and back to the phone. Finally, with an overly mature, wary resolve, he backed up to let her in. “You really brought breakfast?”
“Yep. Donuts, muffins, the works.” Plus a breakfast burrito from The Red Door for Bear and a half-gallon of milk instead of coffee. Because the man had warped taste buds and didn’t like the stuff.
She dropped the paper bag on the counter and moved into the living room. Sure enough, Bear’s sprawling form crowded the couch. The thing was way too small for him. How sore would he be when he woke up?
A tiny hand tucked into hers. “He doesn’t wear a shirt when he sleeps.”
Erin’s whispered words drew another grin. And a blush. And the instant need to look away from Bear’s bare chest. “I see that.” Her attention strayed to his face instead—all sharp angles, from his broad forehead to his high cheekbones and his sloping nose, all except the curve of his overly long lashes. She squeezed Erin’s hand. “Come on, let’s go back to the kitchen and let him keep sleeping.”
Although how Bear could sleep with the ruckus drifting into the apartment from the coffee shop below or the roar of thunder outside, she hadn’t a clue. Apparently he could sleep through anything.
But what about these kids? Coffee Coffee opened at five-thirty every morning and was often bustling until ten at night. The apartment was about as sound-proof as a plastic tent. Bear couldn’t keep them here long-term.
Long-term? She didn’t even know if he was staying another day.
In the kitchen, she pulled a pile of napkins from the sack and then started unloading her breakfast loot on the table. “Hope you guys like chocolate-covered donuts. Or banana nut muffins. Because those are your choices.”
“We love them.” Erin climbed into one of the vinyl-cushioned chairs at the table. Raegan gave the back of the chair a scoot to move her closer to the table.
She turned to the cupboard, opening the one in which she knew she’d find a few glasses Bear had never boxed up.
Even if she hadn’t spent half her evenings over the past few months hiding away in this apartment, she’d have known her way around Bear’s kitchen with her eyes closed. Years ago, she’d helped him settle into the space. She’d coaxed him into painting the walls a buoyant red, picked out matching towels and curtains and even coerced him into purchasing a red-faced coffeepot.
“But I’ll never use it,” he’d argued in the middle of the department store aisle.
“Do you ever plan to have friends over? Don’t you at least want to be able to offer coffee to your guests?”
“I live above a coffee shop, Rae. I think my guests will be fine.”
“It’s the principle of the thing. It’s a mark of adulthood. You need a coffeepot.”
He’d given her one of his usual longsuffering nods, probably only humoring her to shut her up and get out of the store. But nevertheless, there sat the coffeepot on his counter.
It was a little embarrassing now, remembering how pleased she’d been when he’d bought this place, thinking it was a sign that he might decide to settle in Maple Valley, after all.
Jamie slid into the chair beside Erin and reached immediately for a donut. He tore into it with relish.
“You eat like your uncle, you know that?” After pouring two small glasses of milk, she lowered into the remaining chair.
Jamie spared her a brief glance before taking another oversized bite. “How do you know Uncle Bear?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Jamie.”
Raegan chuckled at Erin’s scolding. Jamie only scowled.
“To answer your question, I met Bear when he first moved to Iowa.”
“Is that where we are? Iowa?” Jamie took a drink of milk and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth.
“Bear didn’t tell you?”
The milk in Jamie’s glass sloshed as he set it down. “He just came and got us one night. Mom told us to go with him. We had to hurry.”
Curiosity faded into something closer to alarm. They’d hurried?
“He carried me.” Erin said it with delight, chocolate smeared over her lips.
“Where were you when Bear came for you?”
Jamie shrugged and reached for a second donut. “At home.”
“And where’s home—”
A displeased grunt interrupted her before she could finish the question. “I might’ve known.”
Raegan rotated in her seat. Bear filled the space of the doorframe separating the living room and kitchen, irritation plainly spelled out in his stormy black irises, in the stern set to his jaw. Why did he look so grouchy? Hadn’t he always boasted about being a morning person?
At least he wore a shirt now. One that did very little to hide the stretch of muscle behind his crossed arms. The tattoo wrapping around one bicep was visible under his sleeve. “Raegan.” He hissed her name.
“I brought breakfast.”
“Can I talk to you for a second?” He nudged his head backward.
She turned to the kids. “Save me a donut, guys, okay? One with sprinkles.” She pushed away from the table, mouthing a What’s wrong? to Bear as she ducked past him.
He faced her in the living room. “What’s with the inquisition in there?” He poked one thumb over his shoulder. “Cross-examining the kids? Really?”
“I brought breakfast—”
“This is my apartment, and those kids are in my care. Why we’re here is not any of your business.” He loomed over her. “I asked you to leave last night, Rae, and I didn’t say anything about coming back.”
She couldn’t stop her flinch. Never, in her years of knowing this man, had she seen him like this. Last night she’d witnessed shades of shock and anxiety and exhaustion in Bear. But not this . . . this anger. Pure, frightening frustration. Directed entirely at her.
“Bear—”
The sound of breaking glass cut in and then a squeal from Erin. A crash.
Bear whirled, flying into the kitchen before she could blink. And only a second later, his yell reached her ears. “Call 9-1-1, Rae.”
At the sight of Jamie’s slumped form, his swollen eyes and lips and throat, Bear’s every movement jolted into autopilot. He raced across the kitchen, Jamie’s wheezing beckoning his panic.
But the panic didn’t come. Only a rush of uncanny calm. He reached Jamie’s chair, his nephew’s name slipping from his lips and his hands gripping Jamie’s arms. “Jamie, keep breathing.” One palm slid to Jamie’s wrist. Erratic pulse.
Somewhere in his periphery, he was aware of Erin’s tears, the spilled milk pooling on the floor around his feet. Raegan’s voice on the phone.
“Let’s get you out of this chair. I need you to lay on the floor.”
If his voice registered with Jamie, the boy didn’t show it. His wheezing only worsened, and it didn’t take more than a glance to tell his swelling throat was constricting his airway. He dragged Jamie from his chair, lowering him to the floor. “Erin, has this happened before?”
He spared a glance at Erin’s frightened features, took in her nod.
“Ambulance is on the way, Bear.” Raegan knelt over him. “What can I do?”
“I think it’s an allergic reaction.” A severe one. He slid one finger into Jamie’s mouth, felt his tongue. No swelling there, at least. “There’s a duffel in the bedroom. See if there’s an EpiPen. If this has happened before—”
Raegan had already raced from the room.
Jamie’s eyes were so swollen now, he likely couldn’t see a thing. Anaphylactic shock—Bear knew the signs. How could you not tell me, Rosa?
“It’s going to be okay, Jamie. I’m right here.” He crouched on his knees, Erin’s whimpers still coming from behind. He squeezed Jamie’s clammy hand, then went to work on the boy’s shirt, using both hands to stretch and loosen the collar.
“I think I found it.”
Raegan had barely reappeared in the room before he was on his feet again and reaching for the object in her hands. “Good.”
“Do you know what to do with it?”
He didn’t bother answering, only lowered to his knees again, fist closed around the pen. With his free hand, he pulled the safety cap from the pen. He placed the pen against the boy’s thigh and in a quick motion, pushed the auto-injector into his leg through his jeans. He could feel the spring-loaded needle releasing, and he held the pen in place, counting through gritted teeth. “One. Two. Three.”
He released the pen. Stilled. Waited.
“Did it work?” Raegan’s soft voice asked from above. She held Erin now, one palm rubbing the little girl’s back.
He reached for Jamie’s wrist, felt his pulse once more. And prayed.
Bear stood beside the hospital bed, staring at the boy he barely knew. The swelling around Jamie’s eyes and mouth had already begun to subside, thanks not only to the epinephrine, but also the oral antihistamine the doctor had administered. His skin was still blotchy, but that too would go away soon.
Jamie opened one puffy eye. “I don’t want to stay here.”
Bear brushed his fingers over the unruly waves of hair tangled over Jamie’s forehead, but Jamie flinched and pulled away. Bear let his hand drop. “It’s only for a few hours. The doctor just wants to make sure none of the symptoms return or get worse.”
“Can I at least watch TV?”
“Of course.”
He handed Jamie the remote and then simply watched while the boy flipped through channels, finally landing on a cartoon. Bear couldn’t take his eyes away from Jamie, couldn’t settle his own nerves, as if he were just waiting for another attack, ready to spring into action all over again.
His stomach growled, and it hit him that he’d not had a thing to eat this morning. But the pungent smell of disinfectant, the steady beeping from a room next door, the leftover fear—it all stole his appetite.
Why, now, couldn’t he summon the calm he’d felt a couple hours ago when his training had kicked in on that kitchen floor? Even in the ambulance, a composed familiarity had sustained him. He’d always been good in the heat of a crisis.
It was when the dust settled and the waiting began that he buckled under pressure.
Bear smothered a sigh now. Any confidence he might’ve felt in that ambulance had wilted the moment the ER doctor asked him about Jamie’s allergies, his past reactions, his medical history and Bear was forced to admit his cluelessness. The doubt on the doctor’s face had only expanded when Bear had tried to explain in stilted starts and stops why he knew so little about the child in his care.
And then there were the forms, the health insurance paperwork to deal with.
I can’t do this, God. It wasn’t a prayer so much as a plea for intervention. It was one thing to make a mess of his own life. It was another to take responsibility for two others.
Jamie’s eyes were fluttering closed now. The poor kid was probably more wrung out than ever with what he’d just been through.
Bear stayed by Jamie’s bed until he was sure the boy was asleep, and only then did he trudge from the hospital room. He nodded at a woman as he passed the nurses’ station and followed the signs to the waiting room. He lifted his hand to the back of his neck, kneading the muscle that was just as tight there as every other part of his body.
Raegan looked up the second he slogged into the waiting room. “Hey,” she said as he approached. Erin sat on her lap, flipping through a picture book, content as could be.
He dropped into the chair next to her. “Hey.”
“Is he—”
“He’s fine. Definitely an allergic reaction. Were there nuts on those donuts?”
Guilt seeped into Raegan’s eyes. “Not the donuts, but there were banana nut muffins. I don’t think he ate one, though. But I guess if some of the nuts got onto one of the donuts . . .”
“If it’s a severe enough allergy, just being in the same bag could do it.” Bear reached over the wood armrest to squeeze Raegan’s hand. “You didn’t know. Not your fault. I could’ve just as easily given him something in the past couple days.”
Raegan lifted Erin and settled her in the chair next to her. “I feel so bad, though.”
He wanted to reassure her. Apologize for earlier, for towering over her and accusing her of interrogating the kids. But he couldn’t manage anything other than to lean over, elbows on his knees. “They gave me all these hospital forms to fill out, and I don’t know anything. Not his medical history, not his medications. I don’t even know Jamie’s middle name.”
“It’s Matthew,” Erin piped in, looking up from her book.
Matthew. Like his own middle name. He sank his forehead into his hands.
Rosa. He needed to call Rosa. Tell her what had happened. And while he was at it, he could ask her what she was thinking—not telling him about Jamie’s allergy. Worse—sending her kids off with a man so horribly inadequate. He might’ve known what to do on the kitchen floor. But now?
In the past few days, he hadn’t been able to think ahead more than an hour at a time. But here, in the taut silence of the waiting room, reality crashed in on him. He was in charge of two kids—two lives. He didn’t have a job. He didn’t have a plan.
“Bear, you knew exactly what to do back at the apartment. You knew what was happening, you knew to look for an EpiPen, you knew how to use it. You were amazing.”
“Used to be a paramedic. That’s all.”
“You were a paramedic? What? When?”
“Like a decade ago. Back in Atlanta.” His other life. The life that chased him wherever he went. He shook his head, dropping his hands and staring at the blank blue wall across the room. “How could Rosa do this? Pack up her kids and send them off with a guy who has no clue what he’s doing? And fail to mention that one of them has a life-threatening allergy? What kind of mom—”
“Bear.” Raegan’s voice was soft with gentle warning. She tipped her head toward Erin, still occupied by her book.
He rose, moved down a few seats, waited until Raegan followed suit and settled next to him. “This is such a mess, Rae.”
“Their mom. Your sister?”
He shook his head. “Sister-in-law, married to my brother.”
“You’ve never mentioned a brother. Or any family, really.”
Not an oversight, which Raegan had probably guessed by now. He looked up, gaze flitting to the TV hanging overhead, the droning news, then over to Raegan. Patient, kind Raegan with the kind of family he’d grown up dreaming about. The kind with the loving, upstanding parents and the nice house and the family traditions—like big breakfasts and classic movies and games of basketball in the driveway.
Was it any wonder why he’d gravitated to Raegan, to Seth, all the Walkers? Just like with Annie and John and Elizabeth. Would there always be that piece of him looking for a stand-in family?
“This morning the kids mentioned that you left in a hurry. I’m assuming they meant left Atlanta?” There was a hesitant tint to Raegan’s words, as if she was worried he’d overreact the way he had this morning.
“I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier, Rae.”
“You weren’t a jerk.”
“I was. You were trying to do something nice.”
“I was barging in.”
“But in your usual thoughtful way.” He mustered the closest thing he had to a smile.
It dissolved too quickly, lost in a puddle of need. On any other day he would have brushed off her question about Atlanta. But today, in this moment, he needed something more than the comfort of his own privacy. “We did leave Atlanta in a hurry. My brother’s in jail, but apparently whatever he’s been involved with has been spilling over to Rosa and the kids. My guess is, he’s got himself in the middle of a drug war again.” The explanation came fast, ferocious. “Rosa’s family has always been big on the meth circuit. The McKinleys deal mostly in heroine, crack. Either one intrudes on the other’s territory and things go sour fast.”
He glanced away so he wouldn’t have to see whatever form of shock Raegan might exhibit—disdain, disgust, maybe just pure disbelief. “That’s my background, Rae. Can’t count the number of times my dad came home and told my mom to take me and Rio to the park or the pool or something just to get us out of the way so he could conduct the ‘family business’ right in our apartment.”
“Oh, Bear.”
“Violence, vandalism, stealing, all part and parcel. I tried to get Rio out of that world. Can’t even tell you the lengths I went to.” Or what it’d cost him. What it’d cost John and Elizabeth’s daughter. Annie. He couldn’t tell Raegan that part because he might just lose it entirely, fall apart right in front of her, if the words passed his lips.
No second chances.
Raegan touched his arm. “So the kids are with you because . . .”
He shrugged, looked to Erin, who’d climbed down from her chair and now hopped around the room. “Rosa said something about threats, but honestly, I don’t know what to believe at this point. She wouldn’t let me call the police. If you ask me, it’s because she’s scared of child protective services. She just begged me to take the kids. Their apartment is a wreck. Utilities shut off. Rosa got a thirty-day eviction. I’m starting to think there’s a lot more she didn’t tell me.”
“So you came here,” Raegan finished for him.
“Because I didn’t know where else to go. Or what to do. I still don’t.” He finally let himself meet her eyes. And oh, a man could live on what he saw there. Not pity or aversion or even surprise. Just pure, unadulterated respect.
But how . . . how could she look at him like that, so much esteem in her gaze, after all he’d just told her?
“You got those kids out of a bad environment. You probably saved Jamie’s life this morning. I’d say you’re doing just fine so far. And now you’re not alone.”
It was as if she knew the very words his soul needed to hear. He had to look away lest she see the grateful, tired tears pooling behind his eyelids.
“There’s just one thing, Bear.”
He blinked. “What’s that?”
“You can’t keep Jamie and Erin in the apartment, nor can you keep sleeping on that couch. Not if you’re going to be here for any length of time.”
“It’s that obvious how sore I am?”
“There’s that, yes.” Her laugh was an antidote he hadn’t known he needed. “And also, I kinda want my art room back.”
How many ways could a person say a kind but firm no?
Raegan pocketed her phone, choosing to disregard Mayor Milt’s latest message as she bounded toward the front door. He’d texted her three times today already, the gist of every message the same—he wanted her to reconsider the art show, his request for an original painting.
“Raegan, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
And then there was Beckett and his silly concern about the car pulling into the driveway this very moment. Or rather, the occupants of the car. One occupant in particular.
“I said I really don’t think—”
“This is a good idea.” Raegan interrupted her brother as she pulled open the door and stepped onto Dad’s front porch. “I know. I heard you the first seventeen times you said it.”
The rain from earlier in the day had finally let up, leaving behind a lingering cool and that loamy, muddy scent she loved so. Why did anyone ever want to move away from Iowa? Every season had its beauty. Every landscape had its gorgeous layers of color. Even the black soil of freshly tilled fields was pretty in its promise of new life waiting to push through in leaves and stalks of green and gold.
Beckett let out an aggravated snort behind her. “And yet, there’s the guy now, all ready to move in.”
“You say ‘move in’ as if he just pulled up in a U-Haul. They’ve got all of a duffel bag and one suitcase between them, Beck. Bear’s not moving in. He’s just staying here with the kids for a week or two. It’s not as if we don’t have enough bedrooms. Dad always says his house is open to anyone and everyone.”
Besides, Bear was clearly miles past exhausted. He needed help. Bear McKinley, who’d never seemed to need anything in the past, needed help.
It was as if he were a completely different man than the one she’d known before. That Bear had been calm, purposeful, peaceful. He’d always had a sage word of advice, always offered a gentle listening ear.
This Bear? He seemed almost . . . broken.
“I know hospitality is rule of law around here.” Beckett marched onto the porch beside her. “But this is Bear.”
“Who you’ve never even met.” Which meant his qualms were entirely illogical.
Beckett crossed his arms as Bear stepped out of the rental car. “Don’t have to meet the guy to know I’m not his biggest fan. You moped about the dude for months. Don’t forget, I was here.”
Strands of hair fluttered around her cheeks in the breeze as she watched Bear open the back driver’s side door so Jamie and Erin could spill out. “Yes, you were here, and if you’ll remember, you bought me a plane ticket and told me to run after him.”
Beckett rolled his eyes. “If you had run after him and the two of you had gone all happily-ever-after on us, then I’d obviously like him. But as it stands now, he’s just the guy who waltzed in to town years ago, played around with my little sister’s heart, and then ditched her. For all I know, now he’s back to do the same. Right under our own roof.”
“He didn’t play around with my heart and he didn’t ditch me.” If only she hadn’t texted Beckett. Then he’d most likely be off somewhere flirting with Kit instead of here. “You should talk to Logan or Kate. Better yet, Seth. Or even Dad. They all know Bear. They all like him.”
Did Seth even know Bear was back yet? Her cousin and Bear had been practically attached at the hip. Before Seth had gotten married, he’d lived here in the basement for a few years, which meant Bear had spent plenty of time at the Walker house. Seth said all the time that he never would’ve gotten his restaurant built without Bear’s constant help and encouragement.
That was the kind of guy Bear was—all strength and soft edges. If Beckett would quit with the overprotective big brother act for a second, he might see it for himself in the way Bear swung Erin up onto his back for a piggyback ride, placed his palm on Jamie’s shoulder, guiding him toward the house.
His nephew didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture, though. Jamie pulled away to walk ahead of Bear.
“Be nice,” she hissed to Beckett before their guests reached the porch steps. “Hey, guys. Welcome to the Walker B&B.”
“B&B?” Jamie’s forehead wrinkled. Hardly any of this morning’s swelling was apparent now.
“Bed and breakfast. My dad always jokes that he feels like he’s running one. If it’s not his adult children hanging around, it’s his nephew living in the basement or Colton Greene camping out in one of the bedrooms.”
“Colton Greene?” Jamie gasped. “Like the football player?”
“The very one. He’s married to my sister. They live in town now.”
Bear climbed the steps, Erin still on his back. “You’re sure your dad doesn’t mind this?”
“Are you kidding? He loves having a full house. He won’t be home from Chicago until later this weekend, but trust me, he’ll love having you here.”
Bear turned to Beckett. “You must be Beckett.” He shifted Erin in order to free one hand.
Beckett took his offered handshake. “The only Walker you haven’t met, apparently. But I’ve heard a lot.”
Raegan glowered at Beckett over Bear’s shoulder until her brother forced a grin. Fake, but at least it was an effort.
“Let’s get you all inside and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. Bear, is the car unlocked? Beckett can get your bags, if so.” She ushered Jamie inside. “Feel free to explore.”
“I kinda get the feeling Beckett’s not feeling as good about this arrangement as you, Rae,” Bear said as he followed her into the house. He toed off his shoes just inside the door, then set Erin down. She went running off after Jamie, up the staircase to the second floor.
“Ignore Beck. It’s been like forty-five whole minutes since he last saw his girlfriend. He’s probably just in withdrawal.”
Bear trailed her up the few steps into the split-level home’s living room. It couldn’t look much different than the last time he was here—brown leather furniture, throw pillows and blankets in greens and blues, fireplace mantel crammed with photos.
And the framed family portrait over by the picture window, the one in which Raegan still had braces and teenage acne. But then why would anybody ever look at her in the picture when they could look at Mom? She’d still been healthy when that portrait was taken, years into her first remission. Her skin had a luminous glow, her blond hair had finally grown out, and her smile . . .
It was comfort and safety and faith and home.
“You look even more like her now than you did back when I first met you. Especially with your hair long.”
Her gaze shot to Bear. “Beckett said the same thing the other day.”
“Beckett who clearly doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s just protective. He thinks . . . or assumes . . . that is, he’s under the impression that the two of us, that there might be more . . .” Great, now her cheeks were warming.
Understanding unfolded in Bear’s dark eyes. “Ah. Gotcha.”
“But I set him straight, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“I mean, I have no thought that we, that you and I . . .” She waved her finger back and forth between them. “What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t offer to let you stay here because—” Bear was grinning. Why was he grinning? “What?”
An amused gleam took over his expression. “Just thinking about how funny it’d be if Beckett walked in the front door and saw us—”
“Uncle Bear, can we have the room with the bunk beds?” Erin’s voice bounded in, along with her footsteps on the carpeted stairway.
Raegan placed her hands on her hips. “If Beckett walked in and saw us what?”
Bear shrugged. “I can think of any number of things to set his suspicious imagination running wild.”
“Things like what?”
He only patted her head. “Never you mind. I don’t want to get you in trouble. Or myself. I’d hate for Big Brother out there to call me out.” He moved past her toward the stairway.
“Don’t pat my head like I’m five, Bear McKinley.”
“I’m five!” Erin called from the stairs.
Bear threw her a wink over his shoulder.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or glare, so she just stood there flummoxed and probably—definitely—blushing. Caught between delight and the disconcerting thought that maybe Beckett had a point. This might be a bad idea. All those months she’d spent trying to get over Bear and now . . .
“Where do the bags go?”
She hadn’t even heard the front door open, but there stood Beckett, suitcase under one arm and duffel over his shoulder. “Upstairs.”
They found her guests on the second floor, peering in the doorway to Beckett’s room. Jamie reached for her arm. “Please can we stay in here? I’ve always wanted bunk beds.”
“We’ve got two extra rooms up here, so you don’t have to share—”
“We want to share,” Jamie cut in, a sudden tension tightening the boy’s features.
For at least the tenth time since all Bear had told her in the hospital about these kids and their background, her heart lurched. “Whatever you want. Of course, this is Beckett’s room, but I’m sure he won’t mind temporarily relocating.” She shot her brother a cajoling look.
“You sleep in a bunk bed?” Bear turned from the doorway.
Beckett grimaced. “Yeah, so? Raegan sleeps in a daybed.”
“I know, but—”
Beckett released the bags and they thumped to the floor. “Wait, you know? Why do you know what kind of bed my sister sleeps in?”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. “Because he’s been to our house before, Beck, like a hundred times.”
There was that impish grin on Bear’s face again. “Yeah, I’ve hung out in Raegan’s room lots.”
Was that scowl of Beckett’s supposed to look menacing? And what did Bear think he was doing?
“All right, I’m calling it. Jamie and Erin, you can have Beckett’s room. Bear, you can have the basement where Seth used to sleep. That way, you can have some privacy. Both of you men, stop being idiots.”
Erin giggled at that, and Jamie was already climbing the ladder to the top bunk. Beckett took off down the hallway.
“You know, if you’re trying to get my brother to like you, you’re doing an awfully lousy job.”
But Bear wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on the kids, the look on his face somewhere between worry and wonder. “Jamie telling you he’s always wanted bunk beds—that’s about the most I’ve heard him say at once.” He swallowed. “I’ve been wondering if he’s just not talkative in general or if it’s me he’s . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“He’s had a lot of change in a short amount of time, Bear. He’s adjusting. What can I do to help?”
He turned to face her. “You’re already helping. You’re putting us up.”
“Technically my dad’s the one doing that. Even if he isn’t here at the moment.” But she’d called him this afternoon and he’d said he was okay with it . . . as long as she was okay with it.
Dad hadn’t been overt as Beckett, but his underlying concern was there, all the same. She’d assured him she was more than okay with it. She’d keep a firm hold on her heart this time around. No whimsical emotions. No too-tight attachments. Just common sense and sisterly friendship.
“I’m really grateful, Rae,” Bear said now. “More than I can say.”
She could practically feel it, the depth of his gratitude. From the day she’d met Bear, he’d seemed a pillar of strength. And yet, he’d never talked of family, of friendships other than those formed while in Maple Valley. Who did Bear have to depend on?
“What else can I do, Bear? What do you need?”
He rubbed his hands over his cheeks—something she had seen before, his thinking move. “A shave, for one thing. And a job.”
“I can help with that. The job, not the shave. I know basically everybody in town and have worked for half of them. What kind of job do you want?”
He only peered at her, the soft polish in his opaque gaze nearly impossible to look away from. It’d always been like this with Bear—one look and she could swear he could read her every thought.
While she couldn’t begin to decipher his.
“I can’t believe you never told me you were an artist.”
Case in point. Where had that remark come from? “Were is the key word. I haven’t painted in years.”
“The current state of my apartment might suggest otherwise.”
A sheepish tickle crept through her. “About that—”
“But it fits. I should’ve seen it. You’ve got artist written all over you, even down to the way you decorated that basket with flowers on that turquoise bike you’re always riding around. Your bedroom is basically one big art project—not that Beckett would like me knowing that. And I remember when Seth was building The Red Door and you constantly had ideas for colors and furniture. I think you might be the most creative person I’ve ever met.”
She couldn’t find a single word to say in response. Not one word.
Finally, Bear leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I missed you, Rae.” He lingered only for a moment. Long enough for his warmth and the musky scent of his nearness to invade her senses. Long enough for her flighty heart to somersault.
Okay, fine, definitely a bad idea.
But it was too late now.