Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
“And I still swear I will, Sam—”
“You didn’t even give me thirty fucking seconds! To make what might have been the most difficult choice I’ve ever made, the one that could upend my whole life. I took thirty seconds to struggle with it and you were gone like that.” The snap of her fingers feels like a claw raking across my gut. Then rips me open again when her tears spill over her lashes. “I said yes.”
“You said what?” It wheezes from me, hoarse and broken.
“I said yes. But you think I’d risk that again?” Shaking her head, she opens the pickup door. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”
The thing about scents, I don’t just know when someone’s hurting. I also know when they’re telling the truth. When they’re determined.
Samantha is absolutely determined never to risk trusting me again. The agony of it drives me to my knees as I watch her go.
Only thirty seconds, she said. It’d felt like an eternity to me as I was standing there, my claws slowly ripping holes in her wall, my love and need for her overwhelming me with every breath.
Thirty seconds.
Time hits different when you’re a bear. Or a berserker.
But no matter how it hits, it’s going to be a long, long fucking time before knowing I left her in that way stops killing me.
Most likely, only when I’m dead.
3
SAMANTHA
The one good thing about bawling my head off is how hard it makes me sleep. I can still use more hours in bed when my alarm sounds, but my mom’s heading out early, and I can catch up on the rest of my sleep later.
I head down in my sleep shorts and tee. My mom’s already packed, perfectly made up, and as chipper as ever—except for when she turns serious, sitting me down at the table and asking whether I’m really okay with Brandon staying here. If I’m really okay with him maybe fixing up the farm.
And I am.
Maybe it won’t be the same as it was, but as angry and as hurt as I was last night, I still listened. Brandon feared he was riding roughshod over my wishes. He wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back, so he walked away for a cool down…and got lost for a while.
I understand every bit of that. Except for the part where he spends a year in a national forest in another state with time passing differently. But Ranger had told me—that’s what bears do. That’s what Brandon did.
I’m difficult. And he’s a bear.
Still not sure it means we could ever be more than friends. Still not sure I’d ever risk more than that, if he might take off at any time.
But do I want him around? Yeah, I do. This last year has had some really good points. But the whole time, I kept thinking how much better they might have been if I’d shared them with Brandon. And I missed the hell out of him.
About eight thirty, Tom and Deborah Ranger arrive to pick up Mom in their rental. They’re all flying out of Portland so making the drive together.
I’m not wholly surprised that Brandon’s following on that Harley. Deborah gives me a close look while I’m hugging her goodbye, but if she has something to say about Brandon, she keeps it to herself. I notice Tom inhales deep when I farewell him—as if trying to make out any part of my scent. There’s got to be something there, I suppose. Toothpaste or soap. Maybe any toast crumbs that found their way onto my shirt. Either way, I’m solid enough, so that likely persuades him I’m not a ghost.
Brandon and I wave them off from the front porch steps. Some of my tension returns but not the anger.
He seems a little perplexed by that. “You all right?”
“Still a little tired, but I’ll sleep more in a bit.” I watch our parents’ car turn onto the highway. “Did you draw the short straw?”
“How’s that?”
“With Alicia and Ranger—and who got to risk my temper while seeing our parents off.”
“Didn’t need to draw straws. I volunteered.” His gaze searches my face, maybe looking for the temper that’s not there. “But I suppose that explains why Alicia said that I ought to give you another day or two before even thinking about moving in.”
She knows me well. “So what’s the story of the bike? No money, no identification, yet somehow you bring home a new motorcycle?”
“Not new. At least, not entirely. And I bought it a while back, a buddy of mine who went home on medical discharge. Lost both legs,” he says at my questioning look. “He needed money, I knew when I came back stateside that I’d need a ride, so it was just waiting for me.”
“He didn’t think it was odd, you just showing up out of the woods? Were you naked?”