Page 31 of Saving Meri

8

MERI

Meri stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of Bear’s loft, her fingers touching the cool glass. The city stretched out before her, a mixture of twinkling lights and darkened alleys, beautiful and dangerous all at once. She should have felt safe here. Bear had made sure of it. The loft was secure, warm, and undeniably his.

That was the problem.

Her stomach twisted as she turned from the view, her gaze sweeping the open-concept space. It was too open. Too calm. There were no locked doors. No bars. No dark corners where threats could lurk. No one watching from the shadows, waiting to grab her. The silence wasn’t comforting—it was suffocating.

She didn’t know how to exist in this kind of peace.

Bear had told her to shower and get into bed, and she had done both. Sort of. She had stood under the hot spray for what felt like forever, waiting for the tightness in her chest to lessen. It didn’t. So now, instead of obeying his last command, she stood here, wrapped in one of his shirts, restless and wound too tight.

Bear had given her space when they arrived, letting her settle. He was giving her the chance to adjust, to take this next step at her own pace. She hated it. The patience, theunderstanding—it was too much. He wasn’t supposed to be gentle. Wasn’t supposed to let her have this much control.

Control felt wrong. Control felt dangerous.

Meri needed something to push against, something to fight. She needed chaos, because chaos was predictable. It made sense. This? This slow unraveling took her by surprise.

She moved toward the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets without reason, just to hear the sound. When she didn’t find what she wasn’t looking for, she yanked open the fridge, scanning the shelves with narrowed eyes.

“You’re picking a fight, little one.”

The deep voice rolled over her like a warm command. She stiffened, but didn’t turn. “I’m getting something to drink.”

“You passed over two bottles of water,” Bear said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Three, if you count the one I set out for you after your shower.”

Meri grabbed a bottle and twisted the cap off with more force than necessary. “Happy now?”

Bear’s gaze never wavered. “No. You aren’t where you’re supposed to be.”

She took a long sip, the cold water burning down her throat. “I wasn’t tired.”

“That’s not the point.”

She set the bottle down with a hollow thud. “Then what is?”

Bear pushed off the counter, closing the space between them in slow, measured steps. He didn’t grab her. Didn’t cage her in. But his presence did. The same way it always did.

“The point is, I told you what to do, and you disobeyed.” His voice was steady, calm, unshaken by the fight she was trying to pick.

Her stomach clenched. She wanted him to yell, to snap, to give her something to brace against. But Bear never gave her what she expected.

She lifted her chin, defiance a thin shield against the unsteadiness inside her. “What are you going to do about it?”

Bear studied her for a long moment, reading her too easily. His eyes softened—just a fraction—but it was enough to make her throat tighten. “You’re struggling.”

Meri scoffed. “I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t.” He reached out, brushing the back of his knuckles against her jaw. The touch wasn’t controlling, wasn’t demanding. It was grounding. “You don’t know how to be still, do you, little one?”

She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat didn’t go away. “Still means vulnerable.”

Bear’s fingers slid lower, curling around her throat—not tight, not restrictive. Just a presence. A reminder. “Still means safe, and that’s what really frightens you.”

Her breath shuddered out of her before she could stop it.

Bear leaned in, his lips a whisper away from her ear. “You want something to push against? Fine. You want structure? Rules? Boundaries?” His grip firmed ever so slightly, just enough to make her pulse race. “Then you’re going to get them.”

---