Page 19 of Beary In Love

"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head clear. "That packs a punch."

"Good. Maybe it'll keep certain bears where they belong." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Logan's fingers twitched with the urge to do it himself.

"Speaking of bears, remember that time we found those cubs in the state park?"

"And their mama chased us up a tree?" Serena grinned. "You kept insisting you could reason with her, bear to bear."

"Hey, it worked eventually."

"After three hours!"

Their laughter echoed across the sanctuary grounds, as natural as breathing. For a moment, it felt just like old times - before everything had fallen apart.

Logan soon helped Serena pack her supplies into her leather bag. He watched her methodical movements as she wrapped each glass vial in protective cloth. The workshop's dim lighting caught the light blue flecks in her gray eyes, reminding him of summer storms. His bear stirred and wanted to reach out and touch her.

"Thanks for helping today," he said, handing her a mortar and pestle. "You've always been good at fixing things. Well… except for running off to vet school and never saying another word to me."

Those last words completely slipped out unbidden. The temperature in the workshop seemed to drop ten degrees. Serena's hands froze mid-motion, her fingers tightening around a bottle of crushed herbs until her knuckles went white.

Logan's bear instincts screamed at him to backtrack, but his human pride dug in its heels. He crossed his arms and leaned against the workbench, the wood creaking under his weight. The silence stretched between them like a rubber band about to snap.

The scent of her anger hit him - sharp and spicy, mixed with something deeper that might have been hurt. Her jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath her skin.

Shit.He'd really stepped in it this time. But damn it, wasn't there some truth to what he'd said? She had simply left, choosing her career over their relationship. The bear in him growled still nursing that old wound.

Serena's movements became precise, almost mechanical, as she continued packing. The gentle clink of glass bottles filled thecharged silence. Logan watched her, torn between apologizing and defending himself. The workshop suddenly felt too small, too intimate, with her scent mixing with the sawdust and herbs.

His bear wanted to pull her close, to nuzzle that spot behind her ear that used to make her laugh. His human side wanted to argue his point. Both impulses warred inside him as he waited for her response.

Serena suddenly whirled around, her eyes flashing. "You want to talk about my running off? How about we discuss your complete inability to support my dreams?"

Logan's bear bristled at her tone. "Support? You dropped a bomb about moving across the country with zero warning."

"Zero warning? I talked about vet school since we were teenagers!" She slammed a bottle down on the workbench. "But you were too busy planning our perfect little life here to listen to me."

"Our life here was good." Logan's hands clenched at his sides. The scent of her anger mixed with herbs made his head spin.

"Good wasn't enough for me. I wanted something more." Serena jabbed at his chest.

"Yeah, and you made it very clear that 'something more' didn't include me when you left and never came back." The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

The color drained from Serena's face. Her lips trembled, and Logan's bear whined at the hurt in her eyes. Before he could say anything, she snatched up her leather bag and stormed out of the workshop.

"Serena, wait-" Logan followed her, his longer strides eating up the distance between them. The scent of her tears hit him like a punch to the gut.

She yanked open her car door. "I think we're done here."

"Come on, that's not-"

The door slammed. Her engine roared to life, and gravel sprayed as she peeled out of the sanctuary's parking area.

"Damn it." Logan pulled at his hair and paced the empty lot.

He'd gone too far. Way too far. Her divorce was still fresh for her, and here he was picking at old wounds like an idiot. Some protector he was turning out to be.

Logan kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the parking lot. The late afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders as he stood there, torn between chasing after her and giving her space.

"Smooth, Steele," he muttered to himself. "Real smooth."

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