All This Time

by Melissa Tagg

Finally, her feet landed on soggy ground. She heard Bear climbing down behind her. She couldn’t drive in this, she knew that.

  Bear’s apartment.

  She pulled the ring of keys from her pocket and made a run for it.

  “Raegan?”

  A soft voice pulled her from sleep. And the smell of coffee. And pastry. And . . . lavender?

  Sara.

  A weight settled on the bed beside her. But wait, not her own bed. Raegan forced her eyes all the way open, fatigue clinging to her bones as she pushed her way to a sitting position. She’d slept in Bear’s apartment? That explained the scent of coffee. Had she been here all night?

  But no sunshine streamed through curtains shielding the room’s sole window.

  “I grabbed a couple scones from Coffee Coffee downstairs right before it closed. Feel like a late-night snack?”

  Definitely not morning.

  Raegan looked over to the woman sitting beside her. Sara seemed as comfortable as could be, legs stretched out on the bed in front of her, a paper bag with the Coffee Coffee logo on her lap. “Bear called you, didn’t he?” Raegan asked.

  Sara nodded, reaching into the bag. “He’s kind of funny when he’s agitated, isn’t he? Sputters, can’t finish his sentences.”

  Her blurry mind tried to come into focus. She’d left Bear at the scaffolding, had escaped to his apartment. He hadn’t followed. Or if he had, he’d been kind enough to leave her be. Soaked through from the rain, she’d wanted to hop in the shower, but the jagged lightning brightening the room in millisecond flickers had kept her from doing so.

  She’d dodged the living room where her easel and paints and canvas would only remind her of Mr. Hill’s visit earlier tonight. She’d ended up in the bedroom—a room she’d purposely avoided previously when playing pretend artist in the apartment. It had seemed too . . . intimate. After all, this was Bear’s place. And at one point, this had been his bedroom. His bed.

  But she’d been too overcome with emotion to think through her actions, curling up under the covers and letting sleep be her escape.

  She allowed herself to look around the space now, though—beige walls, folding closet doors, ceiling fan. A small lamp on the bedside table was just enough to make out the emptiness of the room. Other than the furniture, little remained to tell of Bear’s former presence here.

  But she could feel it all the same. She shouldn’t be here.

  “What did Bear tell you?”

  “That you were caught up in the rainstorm. That your chalk work on the mural was ruined.” Sara used a napkin to pull a scone from the bag. “Oh yes, and he asked you out.”

  Had he told Sara the part where Raegan made a complete fool of herself? That she’d turned tail and run—literally? “I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not.” Sara handed her the scone.

  “Do you know what I would’ve given a few years ago for Bear McKinley to ask me on a date? Heck, a few days ago.” And nothing had changed. She still wanted it. Possibly more than just about anything.

  Except for having Mom back. She’d probably never want anything more than she wanted that. Unbidden tears flooded her eyes. God, I feel like such a fool.

  And she couldn’t help but think that was how God must see her. Hadn’t she just a few days ago wished He’d finally show some inkling that the desires of her heart mattered to Him? What if Bear showing up on the scaffolding tonight and telling her how he felt was some answer to prayer and she’d gone running in the opposite direction? A complete and utter fool.

  “What’s wrong with me, Sara?” The scone dropped from her fingers into the napkin on her lap. “It’s like I’m sabotaging my own life. My old art teacher starts talking about open doors and my future and I instantly begin shriveling up inside. Bear says the very thing I’ve been wanting to hear and I just . . . leave? Who does that?”

  Sara closed the Coffee Coffee bag and set it aside. “Someone who’s scared.”

  She wouldn’t deny it. Couldn’t. “But I don’t know what I’m scared of.” Tears trailed down her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  Sara reached her arm behind Raegan, pulling her close. “You don’t have to know right now.”

  “But I w-want to know.” Her voice broke. “I want to know why I keep running from the things I want and pushing away the people I love the most.” Dad. Beckett. Bear.

  The people she loved most. She’d just included Bear in that list. The impact of it squeezed her heart.

  She did love him. She loved Bear.

  And not like before. He wasn’t just the handsome town mystery now. He wasn’t just her cousin’s best friend or the guy her siblings teased her about or the man who blew everyone away with his noble aspirations.

  She was crying into Sara’s shoulder now. No more holding back. And Sara didn’t say a word. She simply held Raegan with one arm around her, the other brushing her hair from her face.

  Raegan cried until her lungs squeezed and her well of tears emptied. She didn’t know how much time passed, how long Sara waited. “I’m sorry.”

  Sara’s voice was pure comfort. “There’s not a thing to be sorry about.”

  She sniffled, raising her head. “Am I just a basket case? Is this . . . is this part of the panic disorder thing? Or am I just incredibly emotionally immature?”

  Sara smoothed Raegan’s hair from her forehead. “Emotionally immature people would rarely ever think to even use the term ‘emotionally immature.’” She gave Raegan a gentle smile. “And you’re not a basket case.”

  Raegan straightened on the bed, her rumpled clothes still damp in places. She really should’ve gone home, changed. She must look terrible, especially considering the tears still escaping one at a time down her cheeks. “Then what is wrong with me?”

  Sara shifted on the bed, easing away from Raegan so she could turn to face her, legs crossed. “Raegan, I met you less than three weeks ago. We’ve only spoken a few times. Not nearly enough for me to make some grand pronouncement about the inner workings of your mind and heart. But I can tell you this: Fear is a self-protective instinct. So I don’t think the question is just ‘What are you scared of?’ It’s ‘What are you protecting yourself from?’”

  “What if I don’t know?” She used the edge of the bedsheet to wipe her eyes.

  “I think maybe deep down you do know. But perhaps allowing that knowing to surface is another thing you’re protecting yourself from. Because once you know, once you face it, you’ll have to decide what to do about it.”

  Raegan released an exhale, ragged and tired. “I can see why you and Mom were friends. You’re a lot like her.” At Sara’s thin smile, she added, “I’m not just saying it to deflect the attention away from me and my current pathetic state.”

  “Well, if your mom were here, I think she’d say that her daughter and the word ‘pathetic’ don’t belong in the same sentence.”

  If Mom were here . . .

  Everything would be different.

  “Maybe I’m protecting myself from loss.” It came out a near question.

  Sara watched her intently, quietly.

  “If I stay in one place, if I don’t step through the open doors, I can’t lose what’s on either side. If I don’t tell my family about the panic attacks and about you and about . . . all of it, I can’t lose whatever good opinion they might have of me now.”

  But she also couldn’t gain. She couldn’t grow as an artist. She couldn’t truly connect to Dad and her siblings. She’d lashed out at Beckett the other night, expecting him to see her and understand her, but how could he when she only ever let him—any of them—in so far?

  “And Bear?” Sara finally broke her silence.

  “Maybe that’s why I fell for him in the first place. Because all along . . . I knew he’d be leaving.” Maybe her subconscious had known what her heart hadn’t—that he was the safest man she could possibly fall for at the time. Because it could never go anywhere. Oh sure, there’d be the inevitable hurt when he left. B
ut it’d be nothing compared to the true heartache of loving deeply and then losing harshly.

  Like how she’d lost Mom.

  “You cushioned your own fall,” Sara said.

  Raegan could only stare at the end of the bed, the blanket sliding off one edge, the wrinkled sheet pulled free and exposing the corner of the mattress.

  “He’s a good man, Rae.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “You know what the positive thing about fear is?”

  “There’s a positive thing?”

  “It means you recognize the risk in front of you and there’s a piece of you—however large or small—that wants to take it. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t feel fear. You’d simply feel resignation. Or nothing at all.”

  Raegan lifted her head. “I’d feel numb.” She knew numb. She’d invited it into her life years ago—after Mom’s death, after that horrible panic attack in the blizzard, the accident. Every day in the past decade that she’d pushed down the urge to reach for a paintbrush, it’d grown in scope.

  And with every pretend I’m fine it’d claimed another room in her heart. Numb was the dogged dust that made even happy moments—holidays with family, milestones, good memories—just a little less shiny.

  She met Sara’s eyes. “I don’t want to be numb anymore.”

  As if Bear wasn’t already frustrated with himself enough . . . now both kids were mad at him. So mad, they refused to budge from the car.

  “Guys, I know you wanted to go to the library—”

  “’Cause there’s a magic show,” Erin huffed for at least the tenth time since he’d marched them out to the car this morning, insisting they accompany him out to the ranch.

  “But I have to work. I made a commitment.” Planks for the new flooring in the cabins would arrive on Thursday, which meant he only had two days to pull up the old boards in all four cabins.

  “Seth would’ve taken us.” Jamie’s arms were folded tight across his chest. “He said he would.”

  Because Seth was a nice guy who didn’t know the half of what Bear was dealing with at the moment. And Bear couldn’t very well explain to the kids why he no longer felt comfortable leaving them in someone else’s care for too long. He’d started questioning whether that was really Rio on the phone yesterday. But Rio or not, it was someone—and the fact that whoever it was refused to identify himself, that Chief Ross had confirmed the call was untraceable—it left too sour a taste in Bear’s mouth.

  It was one thing to leave the kids at the house when multiple adults were around. But he just didn’t feel good about sending them into town without him.

  Thus, their current standoff.

  He hated making them miss something fun. Although he had a feeling Jamie was less interested in the magic show than his new little friend Elise. According to Jamie, she was due for a surgery soon.

  “Look, you can stay in the car as long as you want. But if you get bored”—he held up the backpack he’d loaded with entertainment—“I’ve got books, puzzles, even a portable DVD player. Lots of snacks, too. Your choice.”

  He turned and moved toward the first cabin. Should he worry about them? The windows were open. He had the keys. He had the snacks. They weren’t going anywhere.

  Within minutes, he was at work in the cabin, ripping a rotten floorboard free, the stuffy air as cloistering as the state of his mind. It wasn’t even that warm outside today, not after last night’s rain. But in here, trapped heat buried him like one too many quilts on a bed.

  Still better than running into Raegan back at the house, though. Now who’s avoiding whom?

  Whatever. He needed to get this done. He was lucky to even have this job. Sara never had brought up the background check again, though she’d had him sign a W-4.

  Minutes rolled over each other, and eventually he heard the clank of a car door. Did that mean Jamie and Erin had finally given up their ground?

  Ears tuned, he dug the end of his hammer underneath another board and wrenched it loose, waiting for one or hopefully both of them to appear in the doorway.

  “So this is where you’ve been working.”

  Bear dropped his hammer as his gaze jerked up. Apparently the kids had a firmer stubborn streak than he realized. “Uh, hi, Mr. Walk—Case.”

  “Some reason there’s two mournful-looking kids sitting in the car?”

  “They’re mad at me. I wouldn’t take them to the magic show at the library.”

  The corner of Case’s mouth quirked up. “Sounds about right. Well, I’ve got the morning off. I could—”

  “That’s all right. But thanks anyway.”

  Curiosity fanned to life in Case’s eyes, but he doused it just that quick, instead giving the cabin a once-over. “This place is a pit.”

  “You should’ve seen it before I put a week of work into it.” Bear tossed a freed floorboard aside and scooted on his knees to where another stuck up at a crooked angle.

  “Sara actually thinks she can have a horse camp up and running yet this summer?” Case shook his head as he crossed the room and lowered to sit on the stepstool Bear had used yesterday to replace lightbulbs in the overhead lights. The cabins might be rustic and nowhere near ready for use, but at least the electricity was on. Later this week, an HVAC guy was coming out to install window air conditioners. That would improve his working conditions.

  “I think she’s just planning on a test run. Only local kids and families. I doubt she’ll even charge anyone.” Bear wedged in his hammer. “She’s probably back at the house. You could ask her yourself.” He didn’t dare turn to see the expression that suggestion drew.

  “Didn’t come here to see her. Came out to talk to you.”

  That’s what he’d been worried about. He stifled a sigh, hooked his hammer through a loop on his belt, and turned. “About?”

  Case didn’t beat around the bush. “I want to know what you know about my daughter that I don’t.”

  “Case—”

  “Son, I joke about prying into my kids’ lives all the time. And usually it’s just that—a joke. But you charged out of the house last night like a desperate man. You implied to Beck that she was in trouble. You can’t fault me for being concerned.”

  “Why don’t you just talk to Rae?”

  “She’s still sleeping. She never sleeps this late.”

  Just how long had she stayed at his apartment last night? Bear had sat in his car at the curb for at least half an hour after she’d left him, waiting until Sara arrived. Even then, he’d lingered, half hoping Raegan might come to the window and motion him inside.

  Silly, he supposed, considering the way she’d practically run away from him. But why?

  “Bear—”

  “Can’t do it, Mr. Walker.” He slipped into formality. Couldn’t help it. Case was treating him like a witness in an investigation. He respected the heck out of the man. But Case needed to talk to Raegan . . . not about her with someone else.

  Then again, could Bear really blame Case for seeking answers where he thought he could? Raegan had kept a massive piece of herself hidden for years. She’d shouldered her burden alone and, yes, knowing that tore at Bear. But it had been her choice.

  He wished he would’ve picked up on it. Wished he hadn’t been just as distracted as everyone else by her vibrant style and nonchalant ways. He’d settled for the surface she presented.

  But it was the surface she presented. To Bear, to her family.

  Yet, Case Walker was a smart man. He might not know every detail of his adult daughter’s life, but he knew enough to recognize something was wrong. For all Bear knew, Case had tried talking to Raegan in the past and had gotten nowhere.

  So, no, he couldn’t blame Case at all for coming to him.

  But he also couldn’t spill secrets or struggles that weren’t his to share. Could he?

  “She’s more like her mother than she realizes,” Case said now, his voice cotton soft and distant. “I’d try to get Flora to talk about things
sometimes. Times when I could tell she was upset and I didn’t know why. It was like . . . like those boards you’re trying to rip loose. Sticking out all crooked, enough that you know something’s wrong but just too stubborn to give way.”

  “Did you just call your wife stubborn, Mr. Walker?”

  Case chuckled, regarded him for a moment, and stood. “Look, I knew this was a fool’s errand. Inappropriate. I could hear Flora’s voice in my head waxing eloquent about boundaries the whole drive out. But it’s hard, sometimes, knowing how to be a parent to an adult.”

  Bear rose. “From what I can see, sir, you’re just about the best there is. If I’d had a dad like you . . .” He swallowed lest his voice quaver. But his mind finished the thought anyway.

  If he’d had a dad like Case or a mom like the woman he’d heard described so many times, he might not be a man constantly trying to outrun his past. If he’d had a family like the Walkers, he might not feel such an unrelenting shame hounding his heels. If he had siblings like Logan and Kate and Beckett and Rae—

  No, not like Raegan. He could never think of Raegan as a sister. Not since kissing her.

  Why’d it taken him so long to do that, anyway? Idiot. If he’d known how perfect it was going to be—

  Case cleared his throat. Had the man just read his thoughts?

  If he had, he didn’t seem inclined to tease. “I’m sorry you had a tough childhood, Bear. And it pains me to think Jamie and Erin have experienced much the same. But I admire the way you’ve stepped into their lives.” He clamped on hand on Bear’s shoulder. “And for the record, you’re the kind of man I’d be proud to have as a son.”

  So earnest were Case’s words, they left Bear speechless. Speechless and overcome with déjà vu. This was what it’d felt like when John and Elizabeth had welcomed him into their home. Such unconditional acceptance. Love. Even respect.

  Was he pitiful for needing this so much? Craving the care and kindness of someone older and wiser? A parental figure? Did it make him less of a man?

  Case still watched him, and all Bear could do was nod in gratefulness and then watch as Case crossed the cabin once more. But he stopped in the doorway. “I know you spoke with Chief Ross and that’s wise. But if there’s anything I can do, just say the word. Anytime.”