Page 11 of Bearly Chilly

Every now and then, he’ll wake up and sniff her face gently, just checking in. It’s enough to soften anyone’s heart, and I can’t help but give him extra scratches and treats for being such a loyal little guy.

When Lennon’s awake, she eats what I fix, then she gives me a sleepy smile that makes every moment worth it and falls back asleep.

Meanwhile, Oreo and I have formed our own routine. He’s become my sidekick and daily companion. I head outside often, shifting into my polar bear form and stretching out in the sunshine while the snow glistens around us. Oreo usually bounces around me like a tiny, enthusiastic shadow, exploring the untouched snow before climbing up onto my chest and stretching out for some quality sunbathing.

There’s something peaceful about the quiet understanding between us. Oreo and I split our time between soaking up the sunshine and running occasional patrols around the property, making sure everything’s as it should be. It’s clear that he takes his new tasks seriously, and I’m grateful for his company.

I often find myself glancing over at the cabin, my human mind mingling with my bear instincts, always on alert for Lennon. She’s healing, and though she’s right inside, I miss her presence, the spark in her eyes, and our easy laughter.

It’s calming to know that we’re both looking out for her, each in our own way. As the sun sets each day, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I feel that same sense of home, a belonging I can’t quite describe.

“Alright, Oreo,” I say as I shift back to human, shaking off a few clinging snowflakes. “Let’s go check on our girl.”

He barks in agreement, shaking his little body before racing ahead, and I follow, knowing that soon enough, Lennon will be back on her feet, ready to tackle whatever’s next. Until then, we’ll just keep holding down the fort together.

My phone rings just as I’m heading back inside, Oreo trotting in ahead of me. I recognize my mom’s upbeat ringtone that she insisted on setting herself, so I’d never ignore her calls. I pick up, already bracing myself for her particular blend of nosiness and love.

“About time you answer!” she says warmly, and I can almost see her smiling with my dad pacing in the background. “How’s everything going with Lennon? We’ve all been curious.”

I chuckle, feeling a bit like a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew. “Well, Mom, I figured I should let you know that Lennon and I are mated.”

There’s a pause, then a peal of laughter from her end that’s both joyful and teasing. “Couldn’t you have let us meet her before you kept her all to yourself for weeks?” she grumbles teasingly.

I grin despite myself. “If I remember right, you and Dad mated the day you met. Talk about impatient.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She laughs again, this time with that knowing tone that only mothers can wield. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m over the moon happy.” I’ve already turned into a pussy-whipped asshole like my brother and cousin. “I knew the moment I saw her.”

“Well,” she continues, her voice soft and understanding now, “we’ll hold off on the family gathering for a bit. Give Lennon time to heal and adjust to all this mate bond stuff. There’s no rush. We’ve waited this long; a little more time won’t hurt.”

I nod, grateful for her flexibility. “Thanks, Mom. She needs time to get back on her feet, to get used to being the mate of a polar bear and all the craziness that comes with our world.”

“We’ll be ready when she is,” Mom reassures me. “Give her our love and tell Oreo Grandpa and Grandma will send treats!”

I laugh, picturing Oreo’s ears perking up at the sound of treats. “Will do. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, Grant,” she says, and I can feel her warmth through the phone.

As I hang up, I feel a wave of relief knowing everything is well with my family. Everything is falling into place perfectly, including our little Frenchie guardian.

Chapter 9

Lennon

The apartmentabove Grant’s garage has been a wonderful little retreat, but it’s silly to have all my stuff in there when I’ve been sleeping in his bed every night. So, standing in the middle of Grant’s cabin, I turn to him and say, “I think I’m ready to move into your bedroom, Grant.”

His face lights up with a smile that makes my heart do a little tap dance. “It’s about time,” he replies, looking genuinely thrilled.

We spend the afternoon gathering my things, and Grant makes the whole process way more fun than I thought unpacking boxes could be. He treats each of my possessions as special, asking about the story behind an old music box or laughing at the collection of mismatched socks that somehow never found partners.

Then there’s Oreo. The little guy watches our every move, his dark brown eyes following us like a hawk’s. Grant, always thinking ahead, surprises me by having already gotten a plush doggy day bed for Oreo, all cozy and perfect for his size. It gets placed right near our bed so he can stay close.

The first night in Grant’s room feels like a new adventure. The bed is ridiculously comfortable, like a little cloud nestled in the corner of the log cabin. But Oreo has other ideas. He stands at the foot of the bed, looking up with a mix of betrayal and disbelief that his usual spot is occupied by Grant’s legs.

Grant smirks at me before leaning over to rummage around in his bedside drawer. When he pulls out a dark purple stuffed eggplant, I blink several times, wondering if I’m seeing that right. He sets it right on Oreo’s bed. “Here you go, buddy.”

To my surprise, Oreo sniffs the silly thing, and slowly but surely, his tail gives a little wag. In no time, he’s burrowing into theplush blanket with his new toy grasped tightly between his little paws, seemingly appeased by this exchange.

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