by Avery Flynn
My fault. As much as it hurt, he had the urge to walk right back inside and let her get as far away as she wanted. But he couldn’t. “I left a few messages at your office.”
Her shoulders dropped a little. Not relaxed but maybe relieved that he’d switched to business. “I know. It’s not my decision. I have to take it to the council.”
“But as chief, you have final say.”
“As chief, I speak for my people. I act in their best interest.” She stepped to the side.
He mirrored her, blocking the way. “But you know this is in the reserve’s best interest. And in the Mi’kmaq’s. It would be good publicity.”
“It would be publicity. You can’t guarantee it’d be good.” The fire in her eyes lit him up in a decidedly inappropriate way. At least now. When they were teenagers, this kind of tension would lead to some spectacular physical fireworks, but going by the daggers in her gaze, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Maybe not ever again.
“Aria…”
“I need to get home. If you insist on making your case, stop by my office tomorrow. I’ll be there from nine to five. The meeting’s at six.”
“Okay. I just want to say—”
“Tomorrow.”
Don’t press your luck, dummy. He closed his mouth and nodded. When she stepped to the side this time he didn’t block her way, but he did look over his shoulder to watch her go. Her long, black hair swung side to side with her hips and made him ache. Not gonna happen. He didn’t deserve another chance, and she’d never offer one. But a man could dream.
2
Aria didn’t stop moving until she closed her front door and leaned against it, trembling. All her strength. It had taken all her strength to be in the same room as Bear, and the worst part was she hadn’t expected that. Nine years was a long time. They’d stayed together for the first one. He’d left her in the dust the second. It’d taken the next three to get over the heartbreak. In the last four, she’d dated on and off, but the population of eligible men on the reserve was miniscule, and the population of men off the reserve wasn’t encouraging. Still. She’d thought she had made peace with the past and was content with the present. The second she’d walked into Niskamij’s room and seen Bear, the truth had hit her like an arrow to the heart.
Suddenly, it’d been like no time had passed. He’d made her pulse race and the ground shift, a talent he hadn’t outgrown. How does he do that? And he was no longer the lean, stringy boy who’d left Bear Mountain. He was all man now, a few inches taller and several broader with thighs like tree trunks and a chiseled chest all too visible beneath his thin, Cajun Rage T-shirt.
“Seggw, are you home?” Her mother’s voice drifted over from the living room, above the television. The term of endearment made Aria smile despite herself.
“I’m home, Gijú. Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine. How is Niskamij?”
“He was happy to see me.”
“Who wouldn’t be happy to see my Seggw?” Her sweet.
If anything, Aria felt sour and bitter, but no chance was she saying that out loud. Mentioning Bear would lead to a conversation she wasn’t ready for. Not that she’d ever be ready for it, but the subject required more than a few minutes’ prep time and maybe an espresso. Maybe two espressos. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“All right, my love.”
Aria went up the stairs to her half of the duplex and closed the door behind her with a sigh. It was hard enough dealing with Bear’s return. Dealing with it in front of other people was too much. She thumbed open the first button on her shirt, headed for the bathroom, and shrieked when someone waved from the couch in her living room. “Jesse.” It took a few seconds as recognition set in, but her pulse slowed, and she slid a hand back through her hair. “How did you—”
“Your mom let me in. Said I could come up and wait for you.”
No surprise her mother hadn’t remembered to mention it. Once she got engrossed in her evening TV, a parade could march through the house and she wouldn’t notice unless it happened during a commercial break. “Oh. Well, I was just about to—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to warn you. I thought Bear was still upstairs when you came in.” Younger by two years, Jesse had never mastered the patience of waiting until someone completed a sentence before jumping to the point. They’d grown up like sisters but had ended up best friends. Even after what’d happened.
“It’s okay. Really. Had to happen some time.”
“I’m still on your side.”
Aria smiled and took the open spot on the couch, angling to face her well-meaning but misguided surprise. “I appreciate that, but you don’t have to pick sides. He’s your brother, and it’s ancient history.”
The skepticism and pity on Jesse’s face was almost cartoonish.
“What?”
“Ari, I love you.”
Uh oh. That smelled like tough love part one. “I love you, too…”
“So you know this comes from my heart of hearts. You are so not over Bear.” And there was tough love part two.
“Jesse.”
“Now, hear me out. I was right here when he made the dumbest mistake of his life. I saw what it did to you and how long it took for you to put yourself out there again.”
“Okay, but I did put myself out there.”
“Yes. And then you’d come home, bust out the ice cream, and outline all the reasons the failed dates didn’t live up to my brother. I know because I brought the mint chocolate chip. And then you just kinda … gave up.”
“I did not give up. I ran out of options. The only single men left on the reserve are in their teens, in their eighties, or in the closet.”
“Okay, that’s fair, but let me ask you this. How did you feel when you saw Bear again?”
For some reason, that question had the impact of a rogue wave, and she hesitated. How did I feel? Overwhelmed. Nervous. Hurt. Excited. Okay. Maybe Jesse was onto something.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I was caught off-guard. I knew he was coming back, but I didn’t think I’d see him outside of a professional setting. Yes, I felt something, but it was a reflex. The ghost of what used to be. Like how amputees can feel their phantom legs. It doesn’t mean they can wiggle their toes.”
“That … almost made sense. But I don’t believe that’s what it is.”
Aria squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds then took a slow breath. “Say you’re right. Why does it matter? Our time is over. Come September, Bear will be back in New Orleans, and I’ll still be here. Nothing’s changed.”
“What if he has? Don’t hate me, but I was kind of spying out the window when you guys were talking in the street. It looked like something was still there.” The hope in her eyes was sweet but heartbreaking. Like a little girl who wanted to get her parents back together. And a grown woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Maybe you’re right. We’ll see what happens. That’s all I can give you right now, okay?” Anything to get me in that shower.
“Okay.” Jesse smiled and squeezed Aria’s arm. “I just want you to be happy. Both of you.”
“I know. And I’d invite you to stay for some rocky road, but I have to be at the office early tomorrow, and you’ll have some kids waiting in class in desperate need of a good teacher.”
“Hey, I know when to quit while I’m ahead. Okay. I’ll see you later.” Jesse leaned over and planted a kiss on Aria’s forehead then waved on her way out the door.
When Aria was finally, completely alone, she laid her head back and stared at the ceiling. It was hard to admit, but her best friend was right, and seeing Bear in the flesh had only proven it. I’m not over him.
3
Getting ready the next morning took twice as long because for the first time in almost a decade, Aria couldn’t decide what to wear. There had never been an inner debate before, at least not since her
teens. She’d always worn the first thing she pulled from her closet but not today, and the reason had her pacing and balling her fists. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It shouldn’t matter. But it did. Things were casual on the reserve. Even as chief, she wasn’t required to wear pantsuits or even a blazer. Her daily uniform was jeans, boots, and a blouse. Sometimes a T-shirt. And as much as it infuriated her, that didn’t feel good enough today, knowing Bear would be in her office.
It didn’t matter that she’d grown up. It didn’t matter that she’d moved on. It didn’t even matter that she’d gone away to school and come back to hold the most important position on the reserve. At this moment, she was just a woman about to see her ex who wanted to make him regret what he’d done. I am so above this. Except apparently, she wasn’t.
With a resigned groan, she reached for the black skirt she typically only wore to funerals and paired it with heels and a green, silky, charmeuse top. It might come across as too dressed up, but he’d never seen her as chief before and wouldn’t know what her normal looked like. That fact was more depressing than it should have been. She got ready without any more second thoughts and hopped in her off-road SUV. The drive took three minutes. It was almost ridiculous, but the last thing this sure-to-be-bad day needed were blisters. The front door to the building was already open, and as she walked inside, a whistle made her stop cold.
“Uh oh. Who died?” Oliver Smith, the band administrator who acted like her second in command, stepped out of his office in black pants and a neon purple, button down shirt. She might not dress up every day, but he did.
Her racing heart took its time slowing back down, but she managed to keep the scare off her face. “No one, Ollie.”
“The outfit says otherwise. It wasn’t Thompson Senior, was it?”
Mention of Niskamij came close to making her eyes well up, but she swallowed back the tears and kept her voice even. “No. The meeting’s tonight, and I have a proposal that may not go over well. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to look my best.” Sure. That’s why.
“Okay…”
“I swear. No funerals.” There would be one soon, but she shoved that thought away.
“Then I’m guessing you’re referring to letting the media in for Bear Thompson.”
“You guess right.”
“So I guess he’ll also be at the meeting. Oh. Now I get it.” No meanness or sarcasm in the comment as he looked her outfit over once more, though that didn’t mean he couldn’t have kept it to himself. With just over one hundred people living on the reserve, everyone knew everyone. Nothing was secret. Especially not the once storybook romance of two of the band’s biggest names. Something must have showed in her expression because he added, “Sorry.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be in my office. When he comes in, feel free to follow him. You’re a big part of the decision, too.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” It wasn’t something he usually called her, but to be fair, she didn’t usually give off the vibe of a cornered wildcat.
Alone in her office with the door closed, she got the coffee going and picked her biggest mug from the cabinet that said MissChief, a gift from her mother when she’d won the position. It was pretty much a soup bowl with a handle, but that’s what the day called for. She was only halfway through her first cup when a knock made her spit some back out. Grabbing a tissue, she dabbed at her mouth then popped a few breath mints and freshened her lip gloss. “Come in.”
Ollie entered first, and just as her guard was dropping, Bear followed him. Maybe the coffee had been a bad idea. Like she needed to be more jittery. Also, it wasn’t sitting the best in her stomach. She stood and smoothed her skirt then gestured for the men to sit across from her. Suddenly, inviting Ollie didn’t seem as good an idea as it had out in the hall. True, he’d be a buffer and dissuade Bear from making things too personal, but if Bear decided he didn’t mind an audience, it would be ten times more awkward with an added dose of embarrassment. Super.
Aria reclaimed her seat after the guys took theirs and folded her hands atop her desk, all business. “Mr. Thompson, I believe I’ve heard the whole argument for what you’re asking, but if there’s something else you’d like to say, go ahead.”
His eyebrows climbed. “Mr. Thompson? Really?” The look he gave her said I’ve seen you naked, but she didn’t take the bait. After a beat of his disbelief, he blew out a sigh. “Okay. I understand what you’re afraid of, but this won’t be a documentary or an exposé. The league just wants to film me at home, with my family, at my favorite spots on the reserve. We’d get to control the message we send, and I already talked to them about it. They want to be respectful. Aren’t you all about creating the best image of the band as possible? I won the Cup, Ari.” His deep, dark eyes pleaded for her appreciation and approval, and the use of her nickname pierced her heart.
Most on the reserve called her Chief Paul. Those she knew well called her Aria. Only her family and closest friends called her Ari, and once upon a time, hearing him say it had made her feel like all was right in the world and no bad could ever touch her. Now it had the opposite effect. She tried not to let it show but must not have succeeded because he leaned back and dropped his gaze in apology. Oh yeah. It was just awesome having Ollie here to witness everything. When in doubt, back to business. “You have more faith in your media than I do. We’ve never let film crews on the reserve before. I hear what you’re saying, but this won’t be an easy sell.”
“What about the cultural center?”
The unrelated shift made her blink. “What about it?”
“It’s been your baby for years, since you first got elected, right? You’re so close to opening it to the public, and it’s important to you because you want people to know about us.”
How do you know that? There were only two possibilities. Either he’d asked his family about her, or they’d volunteered the information, thinking he’d want to know. Jesse. It would be just like her to slide something like that into a conversation, hoping to hear that Bear still cared. For all her accusations about Aria not being able to let go, Jesse herself had clung to the dream just as hard. Maybe harder.
“Outsiders come onto the reserve all the time to shop in town, and you welcome them. In fact, most of the reserve’s income is from outside patronage. All of Canada and America would see the broadcast.”
“I want people to know more about our culture, yes. I don’t want to turn the reserve into some tourist destination. We’re not a theme park.”
Bear’s jaw tightened. Finally, he glanced to his right and said, “Help me out, Ollie.”
Oliver held his hands up palms out. “I can see both sides. As long as it’s carefully shot and we could approve the footage, I think it could be a great thing for Bear Mountain and the Mi’kmaq. But the chief is right, too. People here are very wary of outsiders, especially the media. We’re all proud of you and tell everyone we see that you’re one of us, but it’s a different thing to welcome in the wolves and trust they’ll behave because we ask them to.”
Bear looked between them, maybe seeing for the first time that his request wouldn’t be an automatic yes. If it weren’t inappropriate and completely unprofessional, Aria would have laughed. He slid a hand back through his short, thick, black hair, processed for another minute, then nodded. “I guess all I can do is ask that you really think about it. I’ll say my piece at the meeting and hope the council sees what this could mean for us.”
Us. Did he even identify as one of them anymore? He’d been away from the reserve for almost a decade during the most formative years of his life. His car cost more than most houses in Bear Mountain. He made more in a year than the whole reserve saw in three, and he had no plans to stay here. How much stake did he really have in how they looked to the rest of the world? Did it even matter to him at all? Arguing wouldn’t get them any further. “We’ll see you there, then.”
Bear pushed halfway out of his chair then looked at Ollie. “Um. Could we have a minute?”
As soon as the door closed, he sat back down and leaned muscled forearms on massive thighs that stretched the dark denim of his jeans to their limits. Why? Why did he have to look so good? His gaze bored into hers, and it was hard not to remember the countless nights they’d spent staring at each other in much the same way but with different emotions beneath the surface. Back then it had been love, passion, and excitement for a limitless future together. Now it was hurt, regret, and desperation to make amends for something that couldn’t be changed or fixed. He took a slow breath before breaking the silence. “I was young and so stupid.”
No argument here. Except it felt petty to hang on to the pain and anger from so long ago. Hating him would make this easier. If he were still the immature ass who’d broken up with her in a voice mail, it wouldn’t be a problem. But the man sitting across from her now looked truly torn up, and damn it, she was starting to feel bad for him. “I was young and stupid, too.” Embarrassingly stupid. It was impossible to think she’d actually believed they’d stay together once he left. That eighteen year-old Bear would be happy with a girlfriend who lived on a tiny reserve in Nova Scotia and would turn down the throngs of women who threw themselves at him on a daily basis.
“You weren’t stupid. You were sweet. And supportive. You were perfect. I just didn’t have the perspective to know it then.”
Her stomach dropped the way it did in the first seconds of free fall when they’d jumped off the tall rocks into the reserve’s lake as kids. What was he saying? “And you have that perspective now?”
