He nodded. “I’ll go get the doc and tell Gladys to turn up the heat.”
Tucking Chloe against me, I went over to the bed and sat down, unwilling to let her go. She was shivering, shaking like a leaf. I held her close, willing some of my body heat into hers.
Her eyes fluttered, and then she looked up at me. “Is it really you, Sam, or am I dreaming again?”
The knowledge that she had been dreaming of me made my chest both swell and ache. “Yeah, Chloe, it’s really me. O’Malley went to get the doc.”
“Will you stay for a little while?”
“Hush now, I’m not going anywhere.”
Her lips curved into a ghost of a smile, even as her eyes closed and she snuggled closer against me.
I held her like that until O’Malley returned with a capable-looking woman he introduced as Doc Banner. The doc took one look at me then told both of us in no uncertain terms to get out while she examined Chloe.
I knew my eyes had gone full bear when hers widened, but to her credit, she stood her ground. O’Malley’s hand on my arm and assurances convinced me that it was best for Chloe.
We went back downstairs, where Chloe’s landlady, Mrs. Jankowski, fixed us a cup of tea, visibly upset. O’Malley gently but firmly chastised her about her frugality, to which Mrs. Jankowski broke down in tears and started talking about her grandson, who was apparently “a good boy who fell in with a bad crowd.” She was signing over the lion’s share of her social security checks to him, claiming he needed the money more than she did.
After a few minutes of listening to that, I was convinced her grandson needed a swift kick in the ass more than he needed her money.
I got up to pace around at the bottom of the steps. I didn’t need to hear any more excuses, not when my mate was upstairs sick and freezing.
The door was opened, and then the doctor came down the stairs.
“How is she?” I asked, all but blocking her path.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Sam. Sam Brown. I’m her ...” I caught myself before I said ‘mate’ “... old friend.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. I had the feeling she suspected what I was. I hoped she did, because then she would understand how determined I could be and it would save us both a lot of time.
“It’s the flu,” she confirmed. “She’s weak and dehydrated, but she’ll be fine with some TLC. I gave her something to make her more comfortable, but there’s not much we can do with a virus. We’ll just have to let it run its course. In the meantime, she needs plenty of fluids, lots of rest, and to be kept warm.” She directed a pointed glare at Mrs. Jankowski at this last directive, who had the good sense to lower her eyes.
Damn straight the woman was going to be turning up the heat, at least until I could get Chloe out of here and back to the lodge with me.
When the doctor left, I looked to Mrs. Jankowski. It was important that she, too, had no misconceptions. “I will be staying on Chloe’s couch until she’s better,” I told her. She looked as if she wanted to argue, but the hundred bucks I slapped into her palm made her reconsider. To O’Malley, I offered a couple more bills and said, “Can you keep that stew coming?”
He waved me off, looking slightly offended. “Of course.” The man earned himself some more points in my book.
I went back upstairs, my heart breaking all over again when I saw Chloe huddled under the covers.
She opened her eyes when my weight settled on the bed beside her. “It really is you, isn’t it, Sam?”
I reached out and stroked her hair. “Yeah.”
“You need to go,” she said weakly, causing my heart to seize, until she added, “I don’t want you to catch what I have. It sucks.”
“I won’t.” My shifter nature meant I was immune to human ailments like the flu, common colds, and diseases in general, but she didn’t know that. “I’m not going anywhere. Can I get you anything? Water? Soup? Another blanket?”
“No,” she said through a yawn and a soft sigh. “I’m good. Just don’t leave yet.” Then she was asleep.
I tucked the covers around her, adding my coat, wanting her to be surrounded by my scent. It was a shifter thing.
While she rested peacefully, I familiarized myself with her space. It didn’t take long since there wasn’t much. Then I poured O’Malley’s stew into a small pot and turned the hot plate on low so it would be warm for her when she awoke.
Next, I looked through her paintings. They all had one common theme: me.
I was the big brown grizzly in each and every one. That amazed and humbled me. As far as I knew, Chloe had never seen me in my bear form, nor did she know about shifters. I could only surmise that whatever had forged the connection between us had also provided her with subtle hints along the way until we found each other again.
That made me feel slightly better about telling her the truth about what I was and what she was to me. I had no idea how Chloe would react, but I felt great relief in the fact that she hadn’t hated me upon sight for breaking my promise and failing to protect her all those years ago.
I settled in then pulled out my phone, typing out the message I had been praying I’d be able to send since I left the lodge.
There will be one more for Christmas. I’m bringing Chloe home.
Chapter 8
Chloe
The bed was huge, covered in a fluffy comforter. A table sat to the side with a light and a clock. I looked at Mrs. Brown, certain there had been some mistake, but she said I could sleep here.
I had my own bathroom, too. She ran a bath for me and told me I could soak for as long as I wanted. I did. I had never taken a bath before, only showers.
The thick, fragrant bubbles so fascinated me that I almost forgot to wash myself. By the time I was done, my hair and body were scrubbed clean and I felt warm again.
Mrs. Brown was waiting for me with a soft flannel nightgown that smelled fresh and clean, just like Sam’s clothes always did. She asked if she could brush my hair. I didn’t really want her to, but she had been so nice and I didn’t have the heart to say no, so I nodded.
It was kind of nice, actually. She was kind and gentle, and told me what lovely long hair I had. I imagined that was what it was like to have a mom. She asked me some questions, too, but I knew better than to answer. She didn’t get mad like I thought she would. Instead, she told me how happy she was that Sam had found me, and that I was welcome to stay with them over the holidays. I wanted to believe her so badly.
We talked about Christmas. Well, she talked about Christmas and I listened. I knew it was supposed to be a happy time, but I dreaded it. Everything was closed on Christmas, which meant my father stuck around the trailer and drank all day. The more he drank, the meaner he got.
Those were the only times he mentioned my mother. He would look at me with such hate in his eyes. I didn’t know what exactly had happened to her, but I did know that whatever it was, it had happened around Christmas and he blamed me.
What Sam’s mom described sounded pretty good, though. She told me how Sam and his dad would take the sleigh and head into the forest to pick out a perfect tree. While they were doing that, she baked and decorated cookies, and that this year, I could help. At night, we would have cocoa and cookies, and decorate the tree with lights and ribbons and ornaments. Then, on Christmas Eve, Santa would come down the chimney and leave presents for everyone.
At one point, Sam’s mom asked me what I had asked Santa for. I shook my head and told her nothing. She asked why, and I told her what my father told me every year—that I was on Santa’s Naughty List and that kids on the Naughty List didn’t get anything.
She got a funny look on her face, almost like she was going to cry. I didn’t want her to cry, so I had to come up with something.
I pulled Rufus out of my backpack and held the tattered, stuffed bear out to her. “Rufus needs a new eye, and his ear’s almost completely off. Do you think, if I left him under the tree on Christmas Eve, Santa�
��s elves could fix him?”
She told me that yes, she was sure of it, and that, because I had made a selfless wish, I would definitely be on the Nice List this year. “So, think about what you want tonight,” she told me, “and you can write a letter to Santa tomorrow.”
She then tucked me in and said goodnight. After she left, I pulled out my notebook and pencil and started writing. I didn’t have to think about what I wanted. I already knew.
Dear Santa, I began. What I really want for Christmas is to stay here with Sam and his family ...
I woke up and saw the big bear of a man reclining on my old sofa, certain that my flu had progressed and I was now suffering from delusions. His shaggy brown hair was tipped in gold; his rugged, beautiful, masculine face relaxed in slumber. The beginnings of a beard, slightly darker than his hair, shadowed his strong jawline.
Sam. My Sam. No longer a boy, but all grown-up.
I was grown up now, too, and the things I felt looking at him now were far different than those I had felt so long ago. All these years I had been thinking of him, hoping to one day see him again, and here he was.
How had he found me? More importantly, why?
Suddenly aware of how I must look, embarrassment washed over me. For years, I had been imagining what it would be like to see him again, and never once had I pictured looking like roadkill when I did. Then again, those had been dreams and fantasies. I had never actually believed it would happen.
I rose up slowly, letting my head adjust to the change in position. I still felt weak and dizzy, but not nearly as bad as I had.
Something slipped off my shoulders. I looked down and saw a coat. Sam’s coat. It smelled like him—fresh and clean with a touch of pine, sunshine, and mountain air. No wonder I had slept so well and had such pleasant dreams.
Sam shifted, but he didn’t wake up.
I quietly grabbed some clean clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom, where I washed up and brushed my teeth. I wasn’t one hundred percent, but I felt significantly more human afterward. I could hear Sam ambling around my small space and knew he was awake.
Taking a deep breath, as deep as I could without inducing another coughing fit, I prepared to face him. Opening the door, I saw him stirring something on my hot plate.
He looked huge in the small space, so much bigger than an average man. Then again, nothing about Sam had ever been average.
I paused in the doorway, content just to drink him in.
As a boy, he had been cute. As a man, he was stunningly gorgeous.
Those big, golden-brown eyes lifted and took me in. I was now fully dressed, with my face washed, my hair combed, and my teeth brushed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he rumbled. Yes, rumbled. It sent shivers of awareness through me, shivers that had nothing to do with my sickness and everything to do with that deep, masculine voice. “You should be in bed.” He lifted his chin in that direction, and I noticed he had changed the sheets while I had been in the bathroom. “Go on, now. I heated up some soup.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest. He couldn’t possibly know how much I appreciated his concern, but I never had been the mushy type. So instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him, familiar words coming to mind.
“You’re not the boss of me.”
His lips quirked. They were full and male, and I couldn’t help wondering what they would be like to kiss.
“I am today. Bed. Soup. Then we’ll talk.”
I stared at him stubbornly, refusing to back down. Having been on my own for a long time, I wasn’t used to people ordering me around. Plus, I had been bullied my whole childhood, but that had stopped the day I turned eighteen and left for good.
His eyes softened. “Please, Chloe,” he said. “Sit down before you fall down.”
Something inside me softened, too. I was swaying on my feet.
I went back to the bed and sat down.
Sam crossed the room in two long strides, put the soup on the bedside stand, then reached down and swung my legs so I was sitting up in bed. I watched in fascination as he then drew the covers over me and sat down beside me. Had he been anyone else, I would have kicked him out, flu or no flu. But Sam was different. I liked the fact that he wanted to care for me. I always had. I wanted to care for him, too, but even as a kid, he’d been so capable, while I struggled simply to survive.
“Thanks,” I said when he placed the bowl in my hands. The aroma of Mr. O’Malley’s potato soup reached my nostrils, making my stomach rumble. It was good to feel hungry again. “I’m guessing you’re the reason my place is warm and I have hot water.”
He shrugged. “I needed to do something to keep myself busy while you were snoring away in bed.”
“Wait. How long have I been sleeping?”
“About thirty-six hours, give or take.”
Thirty-six hours? No wonder I felt so rested.
“You’ve been here all this time?”
“I just found you again, Chloe. I’m not about to leave.”
His words surprised me, and a small kaleidoscope of butterflies tried to take flight in my chest.
“Found me? Does that mean you were looking?”
“I never stopped.”
Chapter 9
Sam
She blinked at me in confusion.
“Did you really think that we—that I—would let you go so easily?”
“I don’t understand. My father—”
“Was a piece of shit,” I finished. “He blew town and disappeared the second he got you away from us. We never stopped looking, but it was like you just dropped off the face of the earth.”
She swallowed hard.
A couple weeks after they had left, their trailer had been found abandoned on the side of the road. Inside, the police had found traces of blood, but no sign of them or clue to where they had gone. I could only guess what had happened, and my heart broke all over again, thinking of the hell she must have gone through.
“Why would you do that?” she asked quietly. “I was nothing to you.”
Anger and hurt tightened my chest, but I had to remember that she had no idea what she was to me, that she had been raised in a toxic environment, and that the very people who should have been protecting her had failed her.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I told her, knowing it would take a lot more than words to convince her of that. “I’m not saying anything else until you eat.”
She looked as if she wanted to ask more, but she must have remembered just how stubborn I could be, because she started eating. “Can you at least tell me how you managed to find me?” she asked in between spoonfuls.
“Fate,” I answered honestly. “My cousin Kayden passed through here a few days ago and saw your painting in O’Malley’s Diner. It reminded him so much of our lodge that he took a picture and showed it to me. When I saw the bear and your name in the corner, I’d hoped it was you.”
“So, the lodge isn’t far from here?”
“A couple hours by car.”
“But the storm closed all the roads. How did you get here?”
“They’re open now,” I hedged. “Enough questions. You can ask as many as you want on the way.”
“On the way where?”
“To the lodge, Chloe. For Christmas.”
Her reaction wasn’t quite what I had hoped. Her eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed just as quickly. “I don’t think so, Sam. But thank you.”
I looked around the small apartment, devoid of a single decoration. No tree, no lights, no candles or cards. There was no holiday spirit to be found here.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Christmas.”
“Yes. So?”
“So, Christmas is a time for family. I don’t want to intrude.”
My heart broke a little in that moment. My beautiful, wonderful Chloe had no idea. Or maybe she was simply remembering the last time I had promised her a nice Christmas and how that had turned out. Nothing w
as going to ruin Christmas this time. I would make sure of it.
“You won’t be intruding,” I assured her. “Because, like it or not, you may now consider yourself officially part of the Brown Clan.”
“Decided that, have you?”
“Yes,” I told her firmly, “and I’ve already told my mom you’re coming. She’s ecstatic.”
“She is?” Chloe looked at me doubtfully.
“She is, and I, for one, refuse to be the one to disappoint her. If you won’t come with me, you’re going to have to tell her so yourself.” I held out my phone, then snatched it back before she could grab it. “But understand that you’ll also have to explain to my mother that I won’t be there, either, because I’m spending Christmas with you.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me. Now, what is it going to be? Spend Christmas here and disappoint Mom, or head to the lodge and have a good time?”
She bit her lip. I hated that she was putting so much thought into it. It should have been a no-brainer.
“Please, Chloe.”
I was serious when I said I wasn’t leaving without her. I wasn’t going to take any chances. My place was with Chloe, wherever that might be. Sure, my family would be disappointed, but they would understand.
“I guess I could,” she said finally. Uncertainly. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”
Thank God. “I’m sure.”
Now that I was here to take care of her, she recovered from her illness quickly. Not only did I ensure she was warm, well-fed, and rested, but my mere presence strengthened her. That was the way it was with mates. The more time we spent around each other, the better we would both become.
Chloe didn’t bring up the subject of what had happened all those years ago when her father had taken her away from Rockledge, and I didn’t ask, unwilling to dredge up those dark memories. She walked with a limp now, and I couldn’t help wondering if her father had something to do with that. I hoped she would share everything with me eventually, the good and the bad, but things were too new, too fresh between us.
A Very Beary Christmas Page 4
