Page 16 of Saving Meri

BEAR

Bear sat at the small table, watching as Meri forced herself through the meal. He didn’t miss the way she hesitated before every bite, her body rigid, her throat working too hard to swallow. She was fighting herself just as much as she was fighting him.

That was fine. He had infinite patience for people who needed it. But he also had zero tolerance for self-destruction.

Meri had been through hell. He knew that. Understood it in a way most men never could. But survival wasn’t just about escaping. It wasn’t just about getting out alive. It was about learning how to live again, and she hadn’t figured that out yet.

She dropped her fork after a few more bites and shoved the plate away, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “Satisfied?”

Bear didn’t answer right away. He let the silence stretch just long enough for her to squirm, long enough for her to realize she didn’t dictate how this worked.

“Better,” he said finally. “You’ll eat more tomorrow.”

Her fingers curled against the edge of the table. “You think you can just schedule my meals like I’m some recruit who needs conditioning?”

His jaw tensed slightly at that, his voice even when he responded. “I think you’ve been through something most people wouldn’t survive, and you’re acting like it didn’t change you.”

Meri’s entire body locked up at that. She hated he could see through her, hated that she couldn’t make him back off and leave her the hell alone.

She stood abruptly, shoving her chair back with a sharp scrape against the floor. “I don’t need you to fix me, Bear.”

Bear pushed to his feet, moving slow, deliberate, making sure she saw he wasn’t reacting to her anger the way she wanted. She was picking a fight because fighting was easier than accepting what she needed.

“I don’t fix people,” he said. “I make sure they don’t tear themselves apart.”

She swallowed hard, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. “I don’t need you to save me.”

“No,” Bear agreed, stepping closer, watching the way her pulse kicked at her throat. “You need to save yourself. I can help because you need something I can provide, but the only person who can truly save you is you.”

Her breathing went shallow, her shoulders rising slightly before she caught herself. “You don’t know what I need.”

Bear tilted his head, studying her, letting the silence stretch between them again before he answered. “I do. I know you’re afraid to stop fighting because you don’t know what’s left if you do.”

She flinched like he’d struck her. He could have pushed. Could have demanded that she admit what they both knew. But that wasn’t how this worked.

“You don’t have to figure it out tonight,” he said, voice steady. “But you will eat. You will sleep. You will take care of yourself, because I’m not letting you do anything else.”

Meri’s throat worked as she processed his words, something flickering in her gaze—anger, defiance, and something closer to panic. She spun on her heel, heading for the bedroom, her bare feet silent against the cold floor.

Bear let her go. For now.

She needed space, but not too much. He followed, stopping at the doorway just as she climbed onto the bed, curling up on her side with her back to him.

“Meri.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Bear leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “This is the part where you argue about the schedule I’m setting for you, so get it out of your system.”

She tensed, but still didn’t turn around. “You can’t just control every part of my day.”

“Not every part,” Bear said. “Just the ones that keep you alive.”

Her fingers tightened in the blankets, but she didn’t fight him as hard as she might have. That was a start.

Bear wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when he woke to the quiet shuffle of footsteps. His body tensed instinctively, reaching for the gun under his pillow, his mind snapping into combat mode before his vision cleared.

Meri stood at the edge of his bed, barefoot, silent, watching. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

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