Page 52 of Choose the Bears

“OK, Scott, OK.” Mary hoisted her toddler up on her hip and then walked in after her son. “Oh, other people…” She was going to say that he needed to share the space with us, somehow I knew, but when her eyes locked with mine, they widened. “Imogen?”

“Mary?”

We both took tentative steps towards the other, much like wary animals might. Not because we were a threat to each other, but… We were cataloguing the other’s wounds. She took in my arm in my sling, while I took in… A very familiar ring of bruises. Phil had used his hand to wrench me forward, and right then I thanked any god that was listening that the guys arrived when they did, because I saw then what he would’ve done next. She wore her own grotesque necklace of bruises, the imprint of each finger clear against her pale skin.

“What are you doing here?” She flushed when she realised how sharp her tone was. “Mike didn’t…” Her brows creased and her lip trembled right before she thinned them down to a line. “He didn’t…”

“He didn’t,” I confirmed and when Kyle got closer, I knew she didn’t want to hear the truth. “Phil…”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence because just saying her husband’s name was like a slap to the face. Her cheeks went bright red, then deathly pale in seconds. A hand fluttered like a falling leaf to come to rest on her chest, right as she sucked in a breath, then another. The toddler, Charlie, I remembered that belatedly, seemed to sense his mother’s mood, and his face screwed up as he began to cry. That snapped her out of whatever that was, her arms going around him as she held him close, soothing him in a series of nonsense words until the child settled again, but her eyes remained on mine.

“I’m sorry…” I wanted to stop her, to protest that she had nothing to apologise for, but she kept on saying those two words like a litany. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Imogen.”

“Don’t be.”

I didn’t know Mary especially well. We went to some of the same parties our guys went to, but partners rarely attended. The men seemed to crave male attention the most, forgetting their girlfriends or wives the minute they arrived. That lack of interest meant we often didn’t even bother to go, but she and I knew each other’s names, knew enough about the other’s lives to have an insight into the pain each one of us had experienced. Mine was far less than anything she’d experienced, and I needed to tell her that.

“I’m fine.” I lifted the sling and regretted it as I felt a sharp stab of pain, but I didn’t let that show. “Just a bit sore.”

“How did…?” She sucked in a breath then let it out slowly, Charlie wiggling until he was allowed down to go running off after his brother. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” That replay came automatically. Denial, pretend like everything was fine, that was the only way I’d gotten through the last few years, but right now that wouldn’t work. “I mean something happened, obviously, but?—”

“Imo?”

A boyish voice had me turning around, and I didn’t like what I saw. A need to come running over, because I’d spent time keeping Scott amused when he was bored at parties. Mike thought it ridiculous that I’d pretend to be a lion, tiger, or bear to keep the kids laughing, but he didn’t want to know what I thought about him and his fucking mates. Alongside that, though, was something I’d never seen in Scott, a wariness that hurt my soul. He eyed me, Kyle, and his mother before following his first impulse and running towards me.

“You’re hurt?” His eyes seemed just as sharp as his mother’s, taking in the sling, but his reaction was quite different. Like a young wolf finding his fangs, his brows jerked down. “Who hurt you?” He looked behind me to where Kyle stood. “Did you?” He was only ten, but his chest puffed out, his hands balling into fists, making me think I knew how he’d ended up bruised and battered. “Did you hurt, Imo?”

The boy grew by the second as he marched forward, but I stopped him.

“No one hurt me, Scott.” Lies, always lies, that’s what Mike and his mates had me doing, but I couldn’t regret that in this instance. “Well, I did. I tripped over a pair of my shoes I left out on the floor and sprained my wrist.”

“Oh.” Scott seemed to deflate by the second, looking me over for signs that this was the truth, then shooting Kyle a quickapologetic look. “Mum’s always telling me that will happen when I leave my sneakers out.”

“Now you know why they need to be put away,” Mary said, using her best motherly voice, only a tiny waver making clear that it was all an act.

“Scott.” Another voice had us turning around to find Elodie standing there in the doorway. She smiled at the attention. “I thought I might find you here. What’re you working on today?”

The tension seemed to leach out of the room then, the boy distracted by the prospect of an audience. He dragged out his painting, laying it on the desk before stepping in to remove the paintbrush his little brother was about to shove in his mouth. At the sound of their chatter, I pulled back.

“Better get going,” I told Mary, unable to handle her haunted gaze a moment longer. That made me feel bad, but I couldn’t seem to stop it. “Looks like we’re making burgers tonight.”

I didn’t wait to hear what she had to say about that, stepping out of the room and striding down the hall.

“Imogen!” Kyle called, but I didn’t stop. “Imogen.”

He appeared in front of me, that huge body shutting out the hallway, reducing my focus down to him and only him. Those massive hands of his landed on my shoulders, the warmth of his touch bleeding through the thin cotton of my borrowed clothes. I wanted to shove him away, make a break for it, run and keep on running until I couldn’t see Scott or Mary, or even Phil, in my mind’s eye. But also I wanted…

My eyes ran over him, inspecting Kyle like this was the first time I saw him. Those broad shoulders, the way his muscles popped in his forearms as he held me right where I was. That information came unbidden, but once I noticed it, I couldn’t help but see it. Dream Asher was leaner than real Kyle, making me wonder how they were similar and how they were different. I could imagine comparing the two of them quietly, thoroughly, ina room lit only by the late afternoon sun coming in through the curtains. I shook my head as if to dislodge that train of thought.

It was like I was defrosting. Being with Mike had frozen me solid, because how else could I get through the feeling of slowly hating the man that was your partner in life, the hatred growing with each day? Kyle, he was like an open fire, flickering brightly in the darkness, luring me closer. But getting nearer meant that ice would thaw, dropping from my limbs and leaving the nerves raw and aching, throbbing with each pass of the wind, completely unprotected.

“Burgers,” I said, my smile and the word a barrier I was erecting hastily between us. “You wanted burgers.”

“Imogen…”

Kyle’s sigh made clear he wanted to say more, but he didn’t, and I was thankful for that. I marched forward because that’s all I could do. Keep on moving, keep busy and maybe, just maybe, with each step away from my past, I’d heal, emerge whole again and be able to stand by the fire with impunity.

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