Page 11 of The Bear's Reluctant Mate

“So, why exactly are you here?” Marion folded her arms across her body as if trying to put a physical barrier between them.

One he planned to break down piece by piece. But first, he had to know why she felt she needed the barrier at all.

And that would take time. And patience.

And for once, his bear agreed.

Chapter Four – Marion

Panic gripped Marion. Why had Alfie followed her here?

But that panic was quickly followed by another overwhelming emotion. Disappointment.

Meeting Alfie at the garden center, watching how he interacted with Charlie, how she had drawn him out of his shell, had given her hope. Faith even.

Faith that there were good men in this world.

But this…

This behavior was exactly what she’d learned to recognize as a red flag. Following someone who hadn’t invited you, having others cover for you…these were the warning signs she’d ignored once before when her sister, Heather, met Razor and allowed him to take over her life.

Yet as she studied Alfie’s face, searching for the telltale signs of deception or manipulation, she found only genuine concern mixed with something that looked remarkably like embarrassment. His hands hung loose at his sides, not clenched. His body language was open, with no sign of aggression. And his eyes—those warm, expressive eyes—held no hint of the cold calculation she’d learned to fear.

Marion’s gaze drifted to Charlie, who was creating a small pile of stones beside their plot, completely absorbed in his task. The same boy who’d been practically mute for weeks had chatted about butterflies on the drive over. Because of Alfie.

She thought of Heather, still defending Razor even after everything. Still insisting he was misunderstood, that his temper was just passion, that his control was just love. The familiar ragebubbled up in Marion’s chest. Rage at her sister for choosing that man over her own son’s safety, rage at herself for not seeing it sooner, rage at a system that had taken so long to protect Charlie.

Marion forced herself to take a long, steadying breath. The rage had nearly consumed her in those early days when she’d fully understood what Charlie had become…a shadow of the bright, curious boy she’d known. Holding onto that anger would only poison her ability to create the safe, stable life Charlie deserved.

She looked back at Alfie, really looked at him as he stood there patiently. Not pushing, not demanding, just...waiting. Giving her the space she needed to process, to decide...

“Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice low enough that Charlie wouldn’t hear.

Alfie glanced at Charlie, then back at her. Something shifted in his expression, and for a fleeting moment, she saw…vulnerability.

“The truth is...” He paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully. “I felt bad about the mix-up. And I also wanted to make sure that you and Charlie...” Another pause, heavier this time. “I wanted to make sure you were both okay.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Marion pressed her lips together, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat. Was it that obvious? Could everyone see the cracks in her carefully constructed facade? That things hadn’t been okay for so long she’d forgotten what okay even looked like.

“We can take care of ourselves,” she said, the words automatic, reinforcing the walls she’d built so carefully. The walls that kept them safe. That let her function.

“I have no doubt.” Alfie’s face broke into that affable grin, but his eyes remained serious. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t all need a little support. I thought a friendly face might help.”

It had helped. Marion couldn’t deny that when she’d spotted him through the crowd, she’d felt a rush of relief so strong it had surprised her. That strange sense of connection she’d felt at the garden center had only intensified.

“Aunt Marion, look!” Charlie called, holding up a stone. “This one looks like a heart.”

“It does,” she agreed, grateful for the distraction. “Save that one. We can paint it later if you want.”

Charlie’s face lit up at the suggestion, and he carefully set the heart-shaped stone apart from the others.

“He’s a great kid,” Alfie said with a smile.

“He is.” Marion’s voice caught slightly. “He’s been through a lot.”

“Kids are resilient,” Alfie said, then seemed to reconsider. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t need support, too.”

Marion studied him, this man who spoke to plants and understood without being told that Charlie needed space and patience. Who’d followed her here out of concern, not control.

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