Page 34 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
And somehow, those words hit harder than the chase. Both of them. Man and bear. Still in love with me.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered.
“I don’t either,” he said, without hesitation. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”
I stared at him, at the sweat on his brow, the tensed line of his jaw, the curve of his throat where his pulse thudded. So hard and real. That's when I realized I wasn’t scared anymore. Not of the bear, not even of Patrick.
I was scared ofme.
Of the fact thatIstill lovedhim. So completely it was terrifying. I didn't think I had ever stopped loving him—it had just gone underground and waited, coiled and patient, until the moment he reappeared and everything cracked open. Slowly, giving myself time to stop, I lifted a trembling hand and touched his chest. Just the center, right over his heart. Tears welled in my eyes—tears I didn’t want to shed, not here, not now—but they came anyway. Hot and silent and stupid.
“I tried so hard to move on,” I whispered. “I dated. I worked. I built everything. But it always came back to you.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t push. He just stayed there, still and waiting, while I collapsed slowly forward into him. He was ready for me; his arms wrapped around me, careful at first. Then tighter. This time, I didn’t sob. Not like before. I justlet go.Of allthe years I’d been angry. Of all the things I hadn’t said. Of all the pieces of myself I’d buried to survive without him. And for the first time in ten years, I felt whole.
Not fixed.
Not perfect.
Just… held.
“I don’t forgive you yet,” I said softly.
“I don’t expect you to.”
“But I think I want to.”
He nodded, pressing his forehead to mine. “That’s enough.”
We stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for my pulse to slow. For my breathing to return to normal. For the forest to remember we were just two people again, not a storm tearing through the trees. Finally, I pulled back enough to look at him. “You’re still naked.”
He grinned. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
I wiped my face. “Trust me. I will if we get ticks.”
He laughed, kissed my forehead, and said, “I’ll shift back, let Thorne cool off. He’s… dramatic.”
“I gathered,” I muttered.
He stood, and I immediately averted my eyes. “Blanket.Now.Before you scar me forever.”
“Ells?”
“Yeah?”
His voice was soft. “Thank you for staying. For giving me, us, another chance.”
He didn't give me a chance to reply before he changed back into a bear, Thorne. And yeah, I won't lie. It was terrifying. Seeing this massive beast appear in front of me… but something in his eyes caught my attention. There was a hint of Patrick in there.
Tentatively, I moved a step forward, holding my hand out. "Good bear… I mean, Thorne. Hello."
I felt stupid. Incredibly stupid.
Have you ever thought you would die one day because you petted something you weren't supposed to? I did, a lot of times. A lion at the zoo, a jaguar on TV, even a peacock at an outdoor wedding once—don’t ask, it looked smug, and I took it personally. There was also a goat at a farm fair who tried to headbutt me after I complimented his beard, a parrot who lunged at my finger like it owed him money, and a raccoon I briefly considered adopting until I realized it was trying to steal my sandwich and my soul.
I had a lifelong problem with trying to touch beautiful, dangerous things. Apparently, that included emotionally complicated bear shifters with carved jawlines and abs that could trigger a national emergency. And a shaggy bear, who, incredibly, patiently, let me step closer.
His snout moved forward. God, it was big. Huge. And his fangs? Yeah, I saw those. A shiver moved through me—equal partsholy hellandplease let me live. His breath puffed warm across my fingers. It smelled like moss and wildness and something oddly sweet. Like clover, maybe. Or like something ancient pretending to be gentle.
