Page 62 of Cowboy Bear's Hope

I was still furious at Mr. Dryden and my boss, their arrogance and incompetence feeding my anger like gasoline on a fire.

But with Dante standing there, his presence a force of calm in the chaos, something else began to fill me.

It wasn’t relief exactly. It was bigger than that.

My chest squeezed with it, the sensation so intense that my heart stuttered, skipping a beat before it roared back to life, pounding against my ribs like it was trying to tell me something.

And then I realized what it was.

It was the knowledge that I wasn’t alone.

Yes, I was scared out of my mind. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this?

When your child’s safety was at risk, fear was inevitable. But now, for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t facing that fear on my own.

I had someone beside me. Someone who wasn’t just here for the good times or the easy parts.

Dante was here, solid as a mountain, ready to back me up no matter what. No questions, no hesitations. Just unconditional, unwavering support.

And it was fucking fantastic.

Chapter Eighteen-Dante

A few minutes earlier.

The second I got the text from Avery, I bolted out of her old house on Willow Lane like my life depended on it.

I’d been spending my afternoons there all week packing up Avery and Rosie’s things. The plan was simple.

Move them out of this place and into my cabin permanently.

It was a good plan, solid, and I’d been sticking to it. Mornings on the ranch, afternoons here, evenings with my girls.

Winter had slowed things down at the ranch, anyway. The animals were snug in their barns and milking parlors, well-fed and cozy. The construction projects we’d planned were on hold thanks to the seasonal deep freeze that had settled over Dry Creek.

Mother Nature could be a fickle old bat, for sure.

At her best, she was unpredictable.

At her worst, some Dark Witch’s scapegoat.

Not that I kept up with magical politics.

Bear Shifters didn’t meddle in those things. We had enough on our plates without worrying about who was messing with the climate.

With Max’s permission and Emmet’s grudging acknowledgment, I’d taken the afternoons off to focus on moving Avery and Rosie’s lives into mine.

Permanently. And didn’t that have a nice ring to it?

Lucky for me, Avery wasn’t sentimental about the house itself. She cared more about the memories.

Photo albums.

Rosie’s baby things.

Her grandma’s old cast iron skillet.

The bits and pieces of their life that held meaning. And Avery, being the neat, practical little thing she was, had already boxed up most of it and stored it in the sitting room.

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