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Bad Bear Redemption (Bad Boy Bear Shifters Book 3)

Page 4

by Liv Brywood


  “He’s probably going through a bunch of different emotions, plus shifter puberty. Not a pretty combo.”

  “Apparently his mom never told him about being a shifter.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish,” he said.

  “Have you talked to him about it?”

  “Not yet. I can’t imagine what he’s dealing with. If I’d lost my parents at his age, I would have been a total disaster. I can’t blow up his life even more by telling him he’s going to turn into a huge bear.”

  “I’d wait too. The right time will come. Fortunately, he seems to be holding up as well as you could expect. He did mention one major concern.”

  “Oh?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  “He said you can’t cook to save your life.”

  “I had a bit of a problem with some grilled cheese earlier, but I can cook,” he said defensively.

  “He also mentioned tonight is typically lasagna night. I think his mom had a different meal preplanned for every day of the week, but I didn’t ask. You should find out. Trying to keep his routine as normal as possible helps a lot in these cases. It helped me after the accident. I knew that my Occupational Therapist would come in every morning at six a.m. Breakfast at seven. Physical Therapy was at ten. Knowing what to expect every day helped ease my anxiety.”

  “Laurie,” He reached his hand across the table to cover hers. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that because of me.”

  “It was an accident. Everything worked out in the end.”

  Not everything. She’d lost her porcelain-smooth skin and the feeling in parts of her right arm where the nerves never grew back. But she hadn’t lost her humor. She’d needed it to get through the darkest times. Fortunately, they were behind her. Other than the occasional twinge of pain, she was back to normal. She didn’t blame him for the accident, but clearly, he still blamed himself. It broke her heart to know that he still suffered.

  “So… lasagna?” he asked.

  As he sat back in his chair, he pulled his hand away from hers. She missed the warmth and comfort of his touch. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched by a man. She’d spent so many years in therapy and rehabilitation that she didn’t have time to date. And even if she’d had the time, she wouldn’t have dated. There was only one man in the world for her, and he’d left her alone in the aftermath.

  She fought back a rush of anger. He’d abandoned her when she’d needed him the most, and he’d probably do it again the first chance he had to escape town. She needed to remember that if she wanted to avoid a second round of devastating heartbreak.

  “Do you have any noodles?” she asked, pushing away unwelcome thoughts.

  “Maybe? I’ll check the cabinets.”

  As he rummaged through the cabinets, she studied his back. Thick muscles pressed against his T-shirt. The muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he stacked ingredients onto the counter. He’d pulled out a can of chipotle chilis, but she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t stop looking, even when he turned around and gave her an amused grin.

  “Are you trying to undress me with your eyes?” he asked in a low, sensual tone.

  “No, just wondering what you’re planning on doing with those chipotle peppers.”

  When his smile dropped, so did her heart.

  “I was moving them out of the way. I think I have everything we need.”

  “We?”

  “Uh, I was hoping you might be able to help me. I mean, I can go online and find a recipe video, but I thought maybe—”

  “I’ll help. Wouldn’t want you to burn down the house.” When he flinched, she cringed. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”

  “It’s okay. I deserve it.”

  Rather than try to argue with him, she set about gathering up the remaining ingredients from the fridge. As she assembled the lasagna, she couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to what the flesh on her arms looked like after the accident. A sharp laugh escaped her lips.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Can you preheat the oven?”

  “Sure.”

  She finished the final layer of noodles, sauce, and cheese right before the oven beeped. After setting the casserole dish inside, she closed the door and set the timer. Now, all she had to do was wait and find a way to stop thinking about everything she’d lost when Dusty had walked out of her life.

  * * *

  Dusty sat at the kitchen table while Laurie made magic in the kitchen. He marveled at her ability to whip up a tasty meal with zero preparation or warning. She’d saved him tonight, but what about tomorrow night or the night after? He wasn’t sure how long he’d be in town, but he’d have to figure out how to cook a few things so he and Mason wouldn’t starve. If it were up to him, he’d just eat out every night, but that wasn’t good for a growing boy. He needed solid nourishment, not microwavable crap from a plastic container.

  Laurie poured two glasses of iced tea and set one in front of him. She slid into the seat next to him at the head of the table. A good spot, considering she’d basically taken over the household for the night.

  “So… what have you been up to since you left?” she asked.

  “The first few years, I did odd jobs on farms in Wyoming and Colorado. Milked cows. Mucked stalls. Glamourous stuff like that.”

  “Your hands still have the callouses.”

  When she reached across the table to touch his hands, his stomach clenched. Pure need coursed straight through his veins. The ever-burning flame of relinquished desire flared hotter than it had in years. He’d tried so hard to put her out of his mind, but he couldn’t forget the passion they’d shared so many years ago.

  “Maybe five years after I left, I met a guy at a truck stop. He got me a job driving trucks, and I’ve been driving ever since.”

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “Nebraska.”

  “How’d you end up there?”

  “Well, it’s kind of a funny story. I had a friend who was trying to sell off a piece of his property so he could help his mom with some medical bills. It’s not much, just a patch of dirt next to a corn field, but he gave me a fair price. I found a used single-wide house and borrowed my friend’s truck to move it.”

  “A single-wide?”

  “Yeah.” His cheeks flushed. “Like I said, it’s not much.”

  “When you’re single, you don’t need a lot. I inherited my parent’s house after they passed.”

  Single! His bear perked up.

  “They’re gone?” The revelation hit him square in the gut. “They weren’t that old.”

  “No, but they didn’t take care of themselves. Dad was always scarfing pizza and beer. Mom loved candy. You can get away with it for a while, but eventually bad habits catch up and you can’t repair the damage.”

  “True.” He considered his eating habits and concluded that he should probably make a change.

  “They’ve been gone a few years now.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t… I’m sorry they’re gone.”

  “Me too.”

  Her thumb rubbed across the top of his hand, slowly, as if she wasn’t fully conscious of doing it. He, on the other hand, was completely aware of what the light touch was doing to his bear. The beast was wide awake—and drooling.

  “It sounds like you have a lot of friends back home,” she said. “Anyone special?”

  “Are you asking if I’m dating anyone?”

  “It’s none of my business.” Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

  “No. I’m single.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she was single too, just to confirm his suspicion. However, the question would open up a can of worms he wasn’t prepared to deal with. Even if she was single, what difference would it make? He couldn’t stay. He’d seen people glaring in his direction as soon as he’d rode into town. Sure, he’d had his helmet on, and they probably had no idea
who was underneath it, but if they’d known he was on the bike, they probably would have laid out tire spikes to stop him. He wasn’t welcome here fifteen years ago, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be welcome here now.

  “How did you end up becoming a teacher?” he asked, desperate to change the direction their conversation was headed.

  “I always liked history. When I went to college, I decided to major in it. After graduation, I got my teaching degree and ended up back here. I could never leave this town. It’s my home. It’s the only place where I belong.”

  “I never felt like that,” he said.

  “Before or after the accident?”

  “After. Before… I don’t know, but after, I definitely didn’t feel welcome. That’s why I left.”

  “I wish you’d stayed,” she said softly.

  Their eyes met. Hers reflected his pain. There was so much left unsaid, but he couldn’t fill the void between them. A chasm of ancient history separated them. A few days in town wouldn’t be enough to fill the gap. It would be better for everyone if he did the bare minimum before leaving. He’d find someone who could take care of Mason, then he’d move on. He was never meant to live on Yellowstone Mountain.

  “I should check on the lasagna,” he said.

  As he peered through the oven’s glass wall, he felt Laurie’s questioning gaze on his back. What did she want from him? How could she have possibly wanted him to stay after everything he’d done to her? Wasn’t it enough that he had to live with the consequences of the accident for the rest of his life? What other penance could he do? There was no way to make up for maiming her body and ruining her life. To try would be to run a fool’s errand, and he wasn’t anybody’s fool.

  5

  Dusty tossed and turned until well after midnight. Laurie had stayed long enough to enjoy dinner with them but had left shortly afterward. She’d claimed she needed to get home to grade papers, but it was probably just a polite way of leaving before they could talk more. Not that they really had much to talk about.

  A scream carried from down the hall. He jumped up and ran full-speed toward Mason’s room. As he pushed the door open, Mason sat straight up in bed. He clutched the blankets. His wide eyes flicked frantically from side to side. The lamp beside the bed was still on, illuminating his tear-streaked face.

  “What’s wrong?” Dusty asked, breathlessly.

  “She was in here.”

  “Who?”

  “My mom. She was here. Except she didn’t have a mouth and her eyes were black.”

  “You were having a nightmare.” Dusty sat on the edge of the bed.

  “No! She was right there.” He pointed at his empty desk chair. “I saw her!”

  “It’s okay.” Unsure of what to do, Dusty patted his nephew’s foot. “Have you been having a lot of nightmares?”

  “Every night since she died.”

  “It’s normal to be afraid after losing a parent.”

  “How would you know? You weren’t around when yours died.” The vicious tone in his words cut Dusty to the core.

  “You’re right. I wasn’t here.”

  “Why not?”

  Dusty didn’t want to talk about it, but Mason’s expectant glare forced the words right out of his mouth. “A long time ago, there was an accident. Your teacher, Ms. Denning, was in the car with me.”

  “Why?” He released his death grip on the blanket.

  “We were teenagers. It was prom night.”

  “You took Ms. Denning to prom?”

  “Yeah. She looked so beautiful that night.” When Mason scrunched up his nose, Dusty got back on track. “I did something incredibly stupid that night. There was a party after the dance. I had… We had…” He hesitated, unsure of how much he should reveal to Mason. He wanted to earn his trust, but if he told the kid the whole truth, wouldn’t he turn on Dusty the way everyone else had?

  “What happened?” Mason asked.

  “On the way home, I lost control of the car.” He left out the part about how they’d been smoking pot and drinking jungle juice all night. “We crashed and the car caught on fire.”

  “Is that why Ms. Denning’s face is all messed up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow, that sucks. She always puts on a ton of makeup and she thinks we can’t see it, but all the kids talk about it. Some people call her Freddy Krueger behind her back.”

  “That’s mean.”

  “It’s true though.” Mason shrugged. “A couple of my friends asked their parents what happened to her. They said we shouldn’t talk about it, so no one knew the truth.”

  “Don’t go spreading it around at school tomorrow. It will hurt her feelings.”

  “More than being called Freddy Krueger?”

  “Not more. About the same. I don’t know. Just, please don’t mention it. She’ll get upset.”

  “I wondered why she was over for dinner. Do you still like her or something?”

  “No,” Dusty answered quickly. “I mean, she’s really nice, but we haven’t talked in years.”

  “But she called you about mom.”

  “Because no one else would.”

  “Why not?” Mason asked. “That’s pretty messed up.”

  “They all blame me for the accident. Everyone in town still hates me for it.”

  “Why would they hate you if it was an accident? Ms. Denning doesn’t seem to hate you. It’s super gross, but I think she likes you.”

  “Uh, well…” He had no idea how to respond to that. He couldn’t deny the spark of mutual attraction between them, but it wasn’t a topic he was willing to talk about with his nephew. “You should probably try to get some sleep.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” When Mason’s lip started to tremble, Dusty sighed. “I know it’s really hard to lose your mom.”

  “You don’t know anything,” Mason screamed. “It’s my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?”

  “I killed her.”

  “No, cancer killed her.”

  “I told her I wished she was dead.”

  “Why would you do that?” Dusty asked.

  “Because she let Dad leave.”

  “She probably had good reason.”

  “Maybe.” Mason sniffed. “He hit her a few times.”

  “Where’s your dad now?” Dusty’s fists clenched at his sides.

  “I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t tell me. I tried to find him online, but he doesn’t have any accounts. I thought maybe he was using a fake name, but I still couldn’t find anything.”

  “Why would you think he was using a fake name?”

  “I don’t know. I just want to find him and ask him…”

  “What?”

  “Why did he leave me?”

  “He didn’t leave you,” Dusty said. “It sounds like he wasn’t being nice to your mom, so she probably asked him to leave.”

  “She kicked him out. The cops came and everything.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “When I was in fifth grade.”

  “So, a few years ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry you’d had to go through so much at such a young age.”

  “I’m not that young. I’m thirteen.”

  “Still, losing both parents is a lot to handle.”

  “Whatever.” Mason smacked at the blankets as if to beat them into submission around his body.

  “You know… you didn’t cause your mom’s cancer. A few messed up cells grew out of control and caused her cancer. It wasn’t anything you said, so please don’t feel guilty for something that wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’m tired.” Mason rolled away from Dusty and pretended to be asleep.

  Dusty stood, knowing full well Mason wasn’t anywhere near tired, but the whole conversation had been exhausting. Also, Dusty wanted to see what he could find out about Mason’s biological father.

  “If you have another nightmare, I’ll be right down the hall,
” Dusty said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Goodnight.”

  Dusty closed the door and headed into the living room. He turned his sister’s desktop computer on and realized he didn’t even know Mason’s father’s first name. He checked the kitchen junk drawer and found several envelopes addressed to Bert Jones. Several more were addressed to Amelia Jones, her married name. He put the envelopes back before returning to the computer.

  A search for Bert Jones turned up several police blotter reports for domestic violence. The residents of Yellowstone Mountain sure believed in shaming people as much as possible. Not that Bert deserved any better, but what ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?

  He found an old marriage announcement between Bert and his sister, as well as an announcement in a church bulletin about Mason’s birth, but he couldn’t find anything more recent, including a divorce decree. Had she actually gotten a divorce? Some people claimed they were divorced but never filed the paperwork. Maybe Bert would automatically have legal custody of Mason.

  Dusty’s bear growled. The beast didn’t like that at all.

  “Me either,” Dusty muttered.

  Although he didn’t want to take responsibility for Mason, he wasn’t about to leave his nephew with his abusive father. Hopefully the prick wouldn’t show up before Dusty could find a good home for his nephew.

  For a split second, he wondered if Laurie would consider taking Mason in. She’d wanted a family and kids for as long as he could remember. He couldn’t believe she was still single when she had so much love to give. Maybe she could give it to Mason. It was a crazy idea, but she was the only person he felt comfortable asking. Whether or not she’d go for it was a different matter, but what did he have to lose by asking?

  * * *

  After Mason was ready for school, Dusty decided to start packing up his sister’s house. He stood in the center of the living room with the few boxes he’d found in the hall closet. He’d briefly considered an estate sale, but the thought of having everyone in town tromping through her house didn’t sit right with him. It would be better if he just put everything in storage until he could figure out what to do with her things.

 

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