“Yeah.” He pressed his forehead to hers. Their breath mingled in the small space between them, intimate and warm. “And you know what else I think is vital to the healing process?”
He felt her hold her breath, so he continued. “Regular use of lingerie. Preferably multiple times a week.”
Joy stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing—a real laugh, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners and drove away the shadows that had been lurking there.
“I’m serious,” he insisted, trying to keep a straight face. “I read a very scientific study on it. Extremely technical. Lots of big words.”
She laughed harder, shoving at his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Excuse me. I prefer the termmedically informed.”
Joy shook her head, but the tension had drained from her body. Her shoulders relaxed, the tight line of her mouth softening. Even her breathing had changed, returning to the steady rhythm of before.
He pulled her back down to the mattress, and she curled into his side like she belonged there. Maybe she did. Her head found the spot just above his heart, her arm draped across his torso, one leg tangled with his.
“Thank you,” she murmured against his chest.
Bear stroked her hair, feeling her body grow heavier against him as she slipped toward sleep. “For what?”
“For listening. For being here. For not treating me like I’m broken.”
His throat tightened, emotion welling up that threatened to overflow. “You’re not broken, Joy. You’re healing. There’s a difference.”
She hummed softly, already half-asleep. “I like you, Bollinger.”
Bear smiled into the darkness, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I like you too, Bug.”
But it was so much more than that. So much more than she was ready to hear, maybe. Or maybe more than he was ready to say out loud.
So instead, he held her close as she drifted to sleep, his heart full with everything he felt for her, everything he wanted to tell her. And for now, that was enough.
He’d tell her tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.
They had time.
For the first time in weeks, maybe in years, Bear Bollinger felt like he could finally breathe. Like maybe he’d found his home too.
Right here, with Joy in his arms, the world seemed to right itself. The constant ringing in his ears dimmed to the faintest whisper, overtaken by the sound of her breathing. The ache of old scars faded beneath the warmth of her touch.
And in the quiet darkness of her bedroom—her house that she’d reclaimed—Bear finally let himself close his eyes. Not because he didn’t want to look at her anymore, but because he knew with absolute certainty that she’d still be there when he opened them.
Chapter22
Joy wiped down the gleaming countertops of her food truck for the third time, more from nervous energy than actual need. The soft pink exterior of Velvet Mornings stood out in the early morning light, a stark contrast to the utilitarian vehicles parked nearby. Her truck wouldn’t be mistaken for any other—she’d made sure of that.
It was ready.
Now, all she had to do was find the guts to take it out into Oak Creek. Have some sort of soft launch so everyone could try it out.
Was she ready for that? She should be. This had been her dream for so long, and now all she had to do was drive it out and the dream could begin. She’d already even bought some ingredients.
But somehow she couldn’t seem to do it.
Her phone vibrated against the counter. She expected it to be Bear, but it was an unknown number.
“Hello?” Joy tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder as she wiped down a counter again.
“Is this Joy Davis?” The woman’s voice was brisk, professional.