To Save A Bear Page 9

  “I wish I could say I have a cool story for my own tattoo. Honestly? I just liked the design.”

  Addison laughed with nervous relief. He wasn’t going to back away into that demeanor he hid behind. Not just yet, at least. She could savor the few moments with him that felt real. They wouldn’t be the last. Addison would see to it that whatever barrier he feared was broken.

  She wasn’t the kind of girl to attach herself to anyone. Growing up, more often than not, those close to her disappointed her. First her mother by dying. Then her father, through the grief he drowned in alcohol and the destruction that caused. Even her teachers, who insisted that writing wasn’t a real career.

  Reid seemed to break that mold. No matter what happened to her or what she thought, he was there. Even if he was at a careful distance, he was there for her. She desperately wanted to hold onto him. Whatever it was he feared, she could help. They could take it on together. All she had to do was prove that she was stronger than the thing that scared him.

  In a world where men were abnormally strong and healed bullet wounds almost immediately, Addison hoped she could overcome what scared him.

  ***

  He shouldn’t have done what he did. It was an indulgence that would put them both in trouble. Reid wanted to kick himself for it, but he couldn’t find the willpower. It was clear both of them had enjoyed the sex. He already craved more, and that was the part that scared him. He worried he would never be able to tear himself away from her now.

  If his beast had been sold since day one, he knew his human half was tumbling headfirst for her. She pushed up and skipped toward the kitchen, still naked. It was a view he admired, sitting up to watch her over the back of the couch.

  There was a softness in her thighs that he enjoyed. She was petite and plush, so easily wrapped in his arms. When he held Addison, the unending war in his mind quieted. The beast’s rage dimmed, and he felt normal. If that was all she did for him, he would have been addicted, but Addison was more than that.

  She moved around the kitchen, pulling macaroni from the cupboards and cheese from the fridge. When she looked up at him, her cheeks pinked, and she ducked her head to hide the smile on her lips. She was light incarnate, the soft glow of autumn sunsets and the smell of pumpkin pie. As much as Reid wanted to bask in her light, he knew he shouldn’t.

  Before she could finish making her meal, Reid had gathered his clothing and left. The smell of their sex and the cooking food followed him like a ghost. It was the spirit of a life that could be, one where he was wrapped in marital bliss. He knew it for the lie it was. If Addison found out about him and the others, about what they were, then doors in her life would close around her. She would be locked in with them, against her will, making that sunshine she radiated slowly fester and turn to gloom.

  Letting her kiss evolve into something more had distracted Addison from the truth she’d demanded. While Reid knew it meant more than just that, he focused on the purpose it’d served. His beast thrashed with unrest. It slammed against Reid’s notions of right and wrong, tried to tell him that everything would work out if only he would let it. Reid wasn’t about to listen to his personal monster.

  He put his clothes back on and went out to the shed, where he’d been working on her bookshelf. There, he could put his hands to use and busy his mind with measurements and angles. It was beginning to take shape, becoming more and more like the design on the paper. He only hoped that it would have the strength to hold the books she’d brought.

  He was busy sawing a plank of wood at the right angle to fit it to the shelf, when Addison appeared. She set a mug next to his tools, having covered it with a paper towel to protect it from flying sawdust. When he thought she would turn and leave, Addison instead perched herself on the edge of a saw horse and dug into the mug she’d brought for herself.

  The smell of starchy pasta and cheese filled the air. He watched her bring the fork to her mouth with a hunger boiling in his own belly. Not for food. He wanted her all over again, like an addict starved and aching for the next fix. Addison would always be his drug.

  He only had to resist.

  “What are you building now?” She asked between bites. It seemed their lovemaking had worked up a fierce hunger.

  His eyes dropped to her belly. Pregnancy didn’t happen that fast. The logical part of his brain knew that as a fact. Still, another part of him screamed with one part panic and two parts joy. They hadn’t used protection, as far as he knew. It’d been stupid and brash.

  “Reid. This thing. What is it?” she waved her fork toward the structure that would be her bookshelf.

  “It’s a gift,” he grumbled.

  “Well, that explains a whole lot.” Addison shifted from foot to foot, her brows falling into an expression he wasn’t sure how to read. Was it confusion? Concern? “I hope you tell whoever you give it to what it is because there’s no way to tell just by looking at it.”

  He held up the other shelves he’d been working on. The design was not like a traditional bookshelf. Addison deserved something fun and funky, like herself. Still, when shown the other shelves, she shook her head.

  “I feel sorry for whoever you give this to. Is it supposed to be art?” Her voice rose in a hopeful tone, one brow cocked.

  Reid laughed and approached the shelf, holding up the missing pieces with the hope that it would help her see it better. Slowly, her mouth dropped into a wide O. It didn’t last long, though. The O disappeared, and she craned her neck to look at it from a new angle.

  “Okay, so it’s a tree,” she responded. “I get that much. But…why?” She shoved another forkful of mac and cheese into her mouth.

  “You live to vex me, woman.” He shook his head.

  Her eyes dropped to his leg. She’d remembered what she wanted earlier. The knowledge that he wasn’t human hung between them.

  “It’s supposed to be a bookshelf,” he said, quickly. “I’m making it for you.”

  The fork fell to the floor. Reid rushed to pick it up, but it was too late. The tines were already covered in sawdust and other debris from the floor of the shed. He frowned at it and moved to wipe it on the leg of his pants.

  When he moved to hand it back to her, Addison’s eyes were still on the shelf. They were brimming with unshed tears.

  “What? What did I do?” He touched her leg, a move he probably shouldn’t have made because it brought the greedy beast to the surface. The beast wanted more of what it tasted earlier. Reid’s stomach clenched as he fought against both the beast and himself.

  Addison threw her hands in the air before turning to meet his gaze. She struggled with the words, opening and closing her mouth when nothing came out. He set the fork aside and moved to stand between her knees. His hands ran along her thighs. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong. This woman in his hands was near tears and Reid was unable to stop it.

  He’d never felt so useless in his life.

  Finally, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. The gesture surprised him. He didn’t know how to react, because it certainly wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “No one has ever been so nice to me.”

  Because she cried into his neck and he didn’t want to make it any worse, he didn’t inform her that he had no plans of charging her for rent the next month. Or the month after. She was his mate and if he couldn’t tell her that, the very least he could do was make sure she was cared for. He wanted her to live a happy life, even if it didn’t involve him.

  “I should let you go now,” she muttered into his now wet shirt. “You’ll never finish it if I hold onto you forever.”

  Reid didn’t want to agree. He wanted her arms around him forever, the anchor that kept his beast tame and his heart beating. Instead, he nodded and pried her arms away from him. His throat tightened. It hurt to step away from her, but it had to be done.

  She stayed while he worked. A comfortable silence filled the room. She pulled
out a set of bound pages that he hadn’t noticed before and began marking them with a red pen. Until the sun began to set, they worked like that. Each was comfortable in their own small world as long as they were in each other’s company.

  When the light diminished, and neither could see to work, Reid turned to tell her it was time to pack it in. Addison was already asleep, sitting on the floor with the bound pages open over her lap and her head resting against the sawhorse. He set aside the pages and gathered her into his arms.

  He carried her inside and tucked her into bed. She barely moved, only mumbling a soft thanks in her sleep without waking. A bit of pride swelled in his chest, knowing that their lovemaking had been part of what tired her so quickly. He knew there was more, an encounter that had triggered her demands from earlier.

  Reid wanted to set out on a hunt to find the man, but he didn’t want to leave Addison alone. If the hunter knew where Reid lived, if he knew that Addison lived with him, then she wasn’t safe.

  Remembering the pages he’d left in the shed, Reid went back to grab them before the evening dew dampened them. There was no title on the front page, but by the time he got back inside, he realized what he was holding was the book she’d been working on.

  Distracted by the words on the pages, Reid sank onto the couch. He put his feet on the coffee table and opened to the first page.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Addison woke, her entire body aching from everything that happened the day before. Her wrist was bruised, the only pain that turned her stomach sour. Carefully, she crawled out of bed and out of her room. Her groggy mind demanded coffee. She didn’t even notice the blond man still sitting on the couch until she’d already passed him.

  Halfway through prepping her morning coffee, her head jerked up and she realized Reid was awake and reading a very familiar mass of bound pages. She yelped and raced toward him, socked feet sliding on the slick floor as she snatched the pages from him.

  “I was reading that!” He reached to take them back.

  Addison shook her head and darted back into her room, chucking the manuscript onto her bed before closing the door behind her. Reid scowled from the couch.

  “I could pick you up and get that back before you could stop me,” he warned her.

  “But, you won’t because you respect the fact that it’s a very unfinished book.”

  He sighed, shoulders sinking. “I just want to know how it ends,” he grumbled.

  “Well, I didn’t even know you could read,” she shot back. Her heart hammered inside her chest. She hadn’t meant for anyone to read that. It wasn’t ready.

  The worst part was that it still read like she was writing about Reid. She wondered how far he’d gotten. Did he think she had a weird fetish now? Addison didn’t want to know. She shut her eyes and willed the entire moment to vanish. If she waited long enough, it would pass her by.

  But, it didn’t. Addison stood with her back pressed against her bedroom door and her eyes squeezed shut, and nothing changed. She heard the creak of Reid standing, the couch groaning with relief. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to approach.

  “You can’t write a book and expect no one to read it,” he began, his voice soft and appeasing. “I thought you wanted to get published.”

  Her eyes flew open and she jabbed Reid in the chest with her finger. “Of course, I want people to read it someday. I want them to read a finished copy! Not my half-baked first draft that I’m still revising. The fact that you breached my privacy and took it from me is just… unacceptable!”

  His jaw ticked, and he swallowed as he looked down at her. Reid looked as though he was moments away from losing his control. “I think I breached a whole lot more than just your privacy yesterday.”

  It was an attempt at a joke, but it failed. She’d thought he respected her. The fact that he’d not only taken her manuscript, but read it, plain hurt. Addison didn’t know what to do about it. Pain, a stinging betrayal, and panic threatened to overwhelm her. The fact that Reid didn’t see what he’d done wrong only made it worse.

  She didn’t know how to get through to him.

  She didn’t know if he was even capable of understanding.

  “This isn’t funny, Reid. Why can’t you just apologize and promise not to touch my stuff anymore?”

  “That’s it? I’m just not allowed in your life?”

  Addison wanted to throw her hands in the air. It seemed like everything she said hit a wall and bounced off; nothing sank in.

  “That’s not what I’m saying! You have your secrets and I have mine. How about that? Is that fair?”

  Reid stepped back. His jaw tensed again. He looked away, his gaze going distant for a moment. She held her breath, thinking he might spill whatever he’d been hiding from her right then and there, but he only shook his head.

  “I keep secrets to protect you. This…” He gestured to the door she guarded. “This is just silly. Why are we even arguing?”

  Her face became hot. Reid refused to understand. He couldn’t see that she’d bared a part of her soul on those pages and now felt naked in ways she hadn’t before. He might have seen her bare skin and the ink she wore, but she kept the rest of it, the rest of herself, safeguarded.

  Addison hung her head. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be arguing. If you’re not willing to understand where I’m coming from, then there’s no reason to bother anymore.”

  Before Reid could say anything more, she ducked and hid inside her room. With a door between them, she let the tears roll down her face. Panic still hummed at the edge of her mind. It threatened to overtake her, far more powerful than she’d felt when she faced a party full of strangers.

  All she’d wanted was the time to turn the mess of her book into a story that wasn’t embarrassing. It stung when Reid refused to listen to her. He’d refused to even hear her out. To him, she was freaking out over nothing.

  She locked the door behind her and moved to fling herself onto the bed. For a moment, she bounced. Then the bed settled, and her tears dried. Distantly, she heard Reid storm out of the house. She thought he would go back to the shed where he had been for days now.

  Reid fumed. He didn’t see what the problem was. The manuscript was wonderful. Addison had to see that. He’d been so caught up in the story she’d woven that he’d forgotten to sleep. Page after page he’d turned to see what would happen next. He thought it would have been a compliment, to have her story read by someone.

  He never imagined it would erupt into such a useless argument. His beast thrashed, made stronger by the anger that churned inside him. Mate or not, she was being a silly woman and he didn’t have time for that. Reid turned his attention to more important things.

  There was a man in town that threatened not only Reid, but those around him. It was time to deal with the hunter. Tracking the man was the only thing that took Addison and her tantrum off his mind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sun started to sink toward the horizon and Reid still hadn’t come home, not since she’d scolded him for reading her manuscript. She’d even checked the shed, where he’d been working a lot lately, and he wasn’t there. Guilt and annoyance fought for her attention. She felt awful for what she’d said. She worried that she’d chased him off, but it was his house.

  When every small creak of the cabin and whistle of the wind started to make her nervous, Addison grabbed her bag and headed toward her car. With her phone pressed to her ear, she made plans for the first time in weeks. There was a bit of cash in her pocket and she needed a distraction.

  In town, she parked in a dark lot, lit only by a single flood light attached to the side of a brick building. The sound of music blared from a nearby door. Shouts burst into the air, cutting through the night. Addison jumped, but held her hand over her chest when she saw a small pack of women approach her.

  They weren’t close friends. She’d barely hung out with any of them when they were coworkers, but aside from calling on Reid�
��s friends, they were all Addison had. There was a moment where she felt her loneliness like a sharp blade in her heart. These people welcomed her with warm hugs, but she still felt apart from them.

  She still felt apart from Reid’s world. Addison didn’t know where she belonged. Would this become another situation where she would have to rise from the ashes of bridges burnt? She didn’t want to give up on Reid, but if he was going to act like this every time he hurt her, then she couldn’t live with him.

  Addison wanted love and understanding. For now, she got it from a group of near strangers. They dragged her inside the bar. All the while, Addison questioned her decision. The smell of alcohol filled the air and stung her nose. She kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see Reid or the man from the café behind her. Both made her heart thump hard.

  When Addison ordered a cranberry juice and sipped on it slowly, her old coworkers teased her. They tried to press their drinks into her hands. She told them time and time again that she didn’t drink. It wasn’t until she began to see Reid and the terrifying man everywhere that she finally caved. Her nerves were raw and frayed, and she couldn’t deal with it any longer.

  The first drink made her cringe, her stomach lurching, but the third and fourth slid down with ease. By the fifth, Addison was hunched at the bar as she told her coworkers all about the oaf of a man she’d been living with. The story of the past week spilled out, including the man that had cornered her at the café. She rolled up her sleeve to show them the bruise.

  They all fretted over her and promised her they were going to take care of her, a pack of hens caring for their own in the haze of their buzz. Each passing moment brought Addison’s cheek closer to the surface of the bar. One of her old coworkers kept pulling Addison’s shoulders back to keep her from falling asleep, but a voice behind them had the group of girls racing to create a barrier around their drunk friend.