Page 53 of More Than I Can Bear

She dared to look at me then and for the first time today, I saw the girl from that night.

My mate.

Something as tenuous as it was beautiful had existed then between us and that’s what allowed me to do this.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do, you know that,” I said and for just a second I could believe she did.

The hardest thing I’d ever done was let go of her hand right then. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall as I forced myself to smile. She caught every second of that, something shifting inside her, forcing her to lean closer, peer into my face. Her fingers clung to mine, but I set them aside, just like she asked, and pushed my chair backwards.

“If this is the way it has to be, then that’s it,” I told the others with a nod.

“I think it is, Adam,” Jack said, nodding.

At that I grabbed my phone out. It was always easier to bear anything if there was some kind of action involved. I punched in Darren’s number and he picked up on the second ring.

“What up, dickhead?” he said. “Saw you having a sook on statewide TV. It was a look alright.”

“Yeah, well, I’m over that now.” I scanned the room, making clear the lie of my words. “I need to shake that shit off, move on.”

“You wanna cut loose?” He could barely contain the excitement in his voice. “Fucking finally, mate. I know just the place.”

Chapter27

Kaine

This was the right way to go, so why did it feel so fucking wrong? I watched my brother walk silently out of the conference room and knew I’d never seen him look so defeated. Not when he’d missed a goal that’d cost the team the game, not when he’d endured injuries that’d kept him off the field for weeks or months. Adam was thoroughly beaten.

Which was the point, right?

That was the fucking hard thing about being his brother. He was either relentlessly optimistic, always seeing the sun behind the clouds, or this, broken completely. But he didn’t get it. I’d had to break him, hadn’t I? To get him to see… I frowned and then leaned forward, determined not to spend another minute worrying about Adam. He was big enough and ugly enough to look after himself, but Freya… The last time she’d seen me she’d run away screaming, but that didn’t stop me from leaning forward toward her.

“How are you feeling?” I scanned her face, her body, for tension. She watched me warily, but made herself smile, shaking her head.

“It’s been…” Freya couldn’t seem to find the words, throwing her hands up in the air. “It’s been a lot.” She looked around the room at each one of us. “I went to the medal count to help Jack out—”

“And ended up with three potential boyfriends out of it.” Jack grinned. “Maybe I should start a paranormal dating service? Any more bear shifters out there looking for their mates?”

“Plenty,” I replied before turning back to Freya. “I know this has all been a big shock…” I remembered the look on her face when she saw the bear, heard the stifled scream, but I pushed on. I had to. “But no matter what you decide, we’re here to support you. If you can’t stand to be around me—”

I wasn’t trying to make this about our relationship because that wasn’t how it worked for us. Freya was our mate. That would never change and therefore we were honour bound to help her, support her until such a time as she didn’t want that anymore. I needed Freya to be safe, secure, for that fine line between her brows to disappear. Like it did when she smiled at me in response.

“That’s not it,” she said hurriedly, then her cheeks flushed pink. “I don’t usually run away from men who’ve been nothing but kind to me, but…” Her brows wrinkled slightly then, destroying the fragile peace I was feeling. “You took me by surprise.” She looked at me, then River. “I wasn’t expecting to see a fucking polar bear in the living room of your apartment. Is that what you are too?” she asked River.

“Black bear,” he corrected, arms crossing his chest.

I knew exactly what that meant: it was a sign of River shutting down, putting up barriers. We were all terrified of Freya’s rejection, but none more than him.

“Oh, well, that makes all the difference.” She laughed but only for a second. “I’m trying to get my head around…”

But whatever Freya had to say, it was derailed by another buzz from her phone, then another, several more coming in rapid succession. That frown was back, getting deeper as she reached for it.

But I got there first.

She felt compelled to unlock her phone, see what strangers on the internet had to say about her, but once she unlocked the device, my hand went around hers. The feel of her, warm and vital, was enough to derail me, but I didn’t let it. I pulled the phone from her hand, watching her frown as I did so, but she didn’t stop me.

I’d done some research long before I knew Freya existed, looking at the impact my brother’s career might have on our potential mate. Online hate directed at the partners of people in the public eye—footy players, or actors or musicians—seemed to be commonplace. It was as if the person who became famous belonged to the fans, and anyone who dared to step in and change the perceived parasocial relationship was a threat that needed to be obliterated. So I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I’d see, that I was prepared for this, but as I saw what was written, I realised how wrong I’d been.

These commenters on her post didn’t know Freya. They couldn’t, because they’d never have written such vile things about her if they did. But as I scrolled, I realised she didn’t matter to them. People were making up whole stories in their head about what she was and what had happened between her and Adam, then they’d manufactured outrage about it. My brother was often the target of other people’s fantasies. I’d been made aware of the lengths some women would go to, just to get his attention, but this? This was on another level.

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