Page 31 of Bear Strength

“It’s not my fault I don’t like rude jokes,” I snort, unable to keep my mouth shut and just let it go.

Hearing that, he turns to me. I can feel his stare drilling a hole in my cheek, but I don’t give in. I don’t look at him. That would be the equivalent of me forgiving him for this stupid statement. I keep staring at the same invisible spot in the distance.

“You’re right,” I hear him say. So, I turn to him. “I’ve been hanging out with… women who are very different from you for far too long. I guess I forgot how to act like a gentleman.”

The corner of his lip dances in a charming half-smile. The wind ruffles his hair a little, making him look like a little boy caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, and now, he was apologizing simply because he got caught.

“Is that your way of apologizing?” I smile, feeling that we’re back on friendly terms again.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “We good?”

“Yeah, we good,” I nod, laughing.

We spend the rest of the time chatting about unimportant things, but I realize that his presence makes me feel all giddy. There are even a few butterflies that he managed to awake inside of me, as I listen to him talk. He tells me about their adventures, and suddenly, I remember it all. I can’t fall in love with him. I can’t fall in love with any of these three men, even though my heart keeps pushing me back to them. I just can’t. They are criminals. They are shifters. Can I trust such a man? I think not.

“Listen, Wagner…” I start, getting up, and breaking the spell that we both seemed to be under. “This was nice and all, but I’d best head on back.”

“Too bad,” he says. “I was hoping to give you a ride on my bike. There’s an awesome view from up there.” He pauses to point his finger somewhere high up in the air, towards a nearby hill. “The road isn’t bad either. We could be there in 15 minutes.”

“Thanks for the offer,” I shake my head immediately, trying to remain polite, but deep inside detesting the idea. “But, Idoubt I’ll ever sit on one of those.” My eyes skip over to his bike, then back at him again.

“Really?” he sounds surprised.

“Uh-huh.”

I look around, making sure I haven’t left any of my stuff behind or any trash.

“Any reason for that?” he asks.

“I’m not a fan of adrenaline rush,” I explain. “I’m more of a stay at home, read a good book kinda gal.”

He laughs at my own description of myself.

“Are you sure it’s only that?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s that you don’t want to sit on my bike. Maybe Adrian’s?” I see he’s poking around, trying to feel out the territory. But, I’m not having it.

“Neither of you,” I reply with a smile. “You both belong to the same gang.”

“So, it’s that.” His face is expressionless.

“Well, don’t take it personally, but sitting on the bike of a drug dealer wouldn’t be that much fun for me.”

I have no idea what takes over me and makes me say this. Maybe the years of oppression, of walking on eggshells, of carefully watching what I say. Now that I’m finally free, I just can’t keep quiet any longer. And, obviously, if I wish to remove myself and my son from these men, I need to speak up.

“Drug dealer?” he asks, tilting his head a little. “You think we’re dealing drugs?”

“Well, drugs, guns, I don’t know,” I shrug my shoulder as if he just asked me if it was going to rain tomorrow and I told him I didn’t know.

He gives me another puzzled look, then burst out into loud, roaring laughter. I remain there, frozen, not having the slightest clue what it is I said that was so fucking funny.

“Sorry... Sorry…” he keeps on laughing, apologizing for it, bending over, and trying to stop but he can’t.

It takes him a few moments longer to fully return to normal. Then, he walks over to me, with a wide grin still hanging on his face. He cups my chin, bringing his face so close to mine that we are just inches apart. I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest, and right into his hands. I try to steady my breathing, but it’s hard. Much harder than I thought it’d be, as I wait to see what he’s up to.

“I’d love to burst that little bubble you’ve created,” he tells me. “But, I won’t. I’ll let Mason do that.” He finishes it off with a pinch on the cheek.

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