by Avery Flynn
“Bear?”
Staring into space, he’d somehow missed Aria returning to the stage. Her light hand on his shoulder anchored him to the moment as the last members filed out and left them alone. Even though he was sitting and she was standing, they were almost eye to eye, and it pulled a slight smile from him.
“Are you okay?” The question within her question: Is Niskamij okay?
“I’m all right. He’s hanging on, but not for much longer.” Saying it out loud hurt more and more, made it real.
Aria cupped his cheek in her palm gently. Such a tender gesture after all they’d been through that his eyes welled up. Big Bear Thompson, most feared man on the ice. Was her compassion endless? Of course. She’d never shown him anything less. I was such an idiot. When her touch was gone, he struggled for composure, angling slightly away until he had a better grip on himself.
“It’s okay.”
He glanced at her, a mix of disbelief and hope battling inside. Could she really forgive him?
“To be sad. It’s okay.”
Oh. He nodded.
She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead—always the nurturer—and unknowingly smoothed on another layer of guilt. There was something on her wrist. He caught her hand for a better look before she could pull it away. A tattoo. A small, simple, black butterfly done in tribal filigree with its antennae forming an open heart. Mimiges. “Is this for…?”
“Yes. He drew the design for me years ago. When he got sick, it was the first thing I did.”
“You’re more a part of my family than I am.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You’re best friends with my sister, my parents love you, and my grandfather thinks you hung the moon.”
“That’s because I bring him luski.”
“Not to downplay the power of your baking, but that’s not it.”
Aria glanced down. Her lips trembled slightly, but she pressed them together to stop it.
Bear took her hand again and gave it a small squeeze. “Hey. I’m sorry.” He’d been partly kidding about her involvement with his family, but it was true. Her father had died when she was young and all of her grandparents before she was even born. Bear’s father had been present but busy as the previous chief. Niskamij had filled that important male role in both their lives.
Aria sniffled, holding it together with sheer will. Hers was stronger than most, and she’d always been stubborn about showing weakness. That was something they had in common. But she needed someone now, and more than anything, he wanted to fill that role. He stood and pulled her in, cradling her against his chest. She was rigid at first, resistant, but after a few seconds she slumped against him and her warm tears soaked through his T-shirt. He tightened his grip, and her emotional shields must have finally gotten too heavy to carry because she wrapped her arms around him and held on like she’d drown if she let go.
Something inside him broke, and the weight of what he’d done hit him full force. Aria had needed comfort, someone to lean on, for a very long time, and he’d always been that for her. Until he left. For her to collapse like this meant two things. She’d never let anyone else in—not all the way—because for her to break meant she’d shouldered everything by herself. For years. It also meant there was still hope for them. A shred of it, maybe, but it was there because she was letting him in now. And it was up to him to prove to her that he deserved it.
He kissed the top of her head then set his chin on it. “I know what he means to you.”
“He’s been…”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Ari.”
She whimpered and set her forehead on his chest. For a beat, she was quiet, and then, “I haven’t been able to … let anyone else see. I couldn’t cry in front of Niskamij because I didn’t want him to feel guilty or sad for me, and it’s hard enough on Nukumi. Jesse’s like my little sister, and it’s been tough for her, too. My mother hasn’t seen me cry since I was a little girl. I’ve spent too many years being her rock. I don’t know how she’d handle seeing me crumble now.”
“No one’s stronger than you, but even the strongest people are weak sometimes. It’s part of being human. Obviously that doesn’t apply here. I know you’re a superhero, but…”
A small snort from below. He glanced down to see her smiling. Just a little, but it was enough. Gripping her shoulders gently, he pushed her back enough to meet her gaze. “You really are, you know. My dad did a lot in his term as chief, but Niskamij was right.” He picked up her hand and slid his thumb over the butterfly tattoo. “You’re transforming this place. The cultural center is a great idea. Not just for Bear Mountain or even the Mi’kmaq but for all First Nations.”
Her eyes were wide and full of emotions, but it was hard to decipher which ones. She swayed forward. He lowered his head. One inch, then two. Stopped halfway there. She was vulnerable. He wouldn’t take advantage. Suddenly his good intentions didn’t matter because she closed the distance and pressed her lips to his. Softly at first, a tentative brush, but it sparked fast and consumed them both in seconds. Her arms wound around his neck and his around her waist as he hauled her close.
So good. Right. It felt right. She did. They did. Just like they always had. It’d been so long, he’d forgotten how powerful the chemistry could be. Connected with Aria, all of his pain and fear evaporated. All that existed all that mattered was in his arms in this moment. And in the next moment, she was shoving him away, holding her face in her hands, and groaning. It was a hard hit to the ego.
“I am so stupid. I can’t believe I just kissed you.”
Annnd that one sent him crashing into the metaphorical boards headfirst.
“Thanks…?”
She wiped under her eyes and took a ragged breath. “Come on, Bear. We got caught up in the moment. It was a mistake.”
The last word echoed in his chest like a ricocheting bullet, doing as much damage as possible while that spark of hope flickered and smoked out. She wasn’t playing hard to get. She meant it. He lowered his gaze and tried to keep the pain of the rejection from making it to his face. He’d done a lot of things to earn that reaction. She didn’t deserve to feel guilty about it. “I’m sorry.”
Her arms dropped to her sides, and she took a step forward then stopped. “No, it’s … it’s not your fault. This one’s on me.”
It took some guts, but he managed to look at her again. He could stare down a near seven-foot defensemen without blinking, but Aria made him shake. Damned if he knew what to say.
“You’re here for the summer, and it’s a small place. Plus, I’m overseeing the whole media day thing. There’s no avoiding each other. Let’s agree that the past is the past and move forward as friends?”
The mix of resolution and sadness in her eyes pierced him, but the taste of her strawberry balm still lingered on his lips, and the feel of her toned body remained etched into his fingertips. Friends. Yeah, that was possible. But that’s what he owed her. “Friends.”
6
Gray light warmed to a golden glow in Aria’s room. She’d been staring at her ceiling so long her eyes were dry. What did I do? Messed everything up. That’s what. All this time and Bear’s pull had seemed to be gone. Weeks would go by without memories of him barraging her or even tapping her on the shoulder—and that was taking into account all the time she spent with Jesse, who could pass for Bear’s twin sister. Seeing him the first day had thrown her for a loop, sure, but holding him? Kissing him? Everything about that man felt so right and so wrong at the same time. It’d been a miracle she could walk to her car afterward considering her knees had gelatinized. What did that mean? And did she want to find out?
A knock on the door jumpstarted her heart. What time was it? Couldn’t be too late. Definitely not late enough her mother would try waking her. In fact, it couldn’t be much past dawn, and her mother usually slept until ten. “Just a minute, Gijú.” Aria reached for her phone on the nightstand. A blue light blinked furiously in the top c
orner, and dread settled in her stomach. Four missed calls from Jesse and five texts. She didn’t have to listen to or read them to know what they said. Before the inevitable wave of sadness could knock her down, she sprang out of bed and pulled on some jeans and a button down shirt on autopilot. She finger-combed her hair into a ponytail and slid her feet into some laceless sneakers then opened the door and nearly walked into her mother.
“Niskamij—”
“I know. I’m on my way over.”
“I’ll go with you.” Gijú linked arms with her, and together they navigated the narrow stairs. Her mother didn’t let go until Mrs. Thompson opened the door and welcomed them inside. From there, Gijú lent her comfort to Bear’s mother and father while Jesse all but tackled Aria in a trembling hug. They’d been prepared for it, had known it was coming. Why did it still feel like such a sucker punch?
Aria held on tightly and rocked Jesse back and forth while she cried. Her pain was tangible, heavy, and too hard for one person to carry, so Aria helped. Helping made it easier to turn off her own pain or at least hold it at bay. For now. After a few minutes, Jesse relaxed and took a step back, wiping under her eyes. No one spoke. There weren’t words, anyway. After a minute, Jesse tipped her head toward Niskamij’s room.
All those months, and she’d been so sure. So sure she was ready for this, could handle it. Now that the moment was here, her feet felt as heavy as anvils, and her heart fluttered like mad. Mimiges. His nickname for her echoed in her ears. It felt just like that. Like a butterfly trapped in her chest. She forced herself forward, dread and sadness in her and around her so thick it was like walking through waist-high molasses.
When she eased the door open, Niskamij lay there with his eyes closed. He could be sleeping. As childish as it was, that thought made it easier to hold back the tears. Or it would have if Bear weren’t sitting beside his grandfather, arms folded on the bed, face tucked into them. His shoulders shook as he cried, but he didn’t make a sound, the mark of someone used to hiding his emotions. The wall around her heart cracked just a little, and without thinking about it, she took two steps and set a hand on his back.
He stilled and after a few seconds lifted his head. Dark, grief-reddened eyes stared at her helplessly with naked suffering. She took another step. His arms wound around her waist, and he pressed his warm, wet cheek against her stomach, crying freely now. Her own tears broke loose. She cradled him and stroked his hair, the back of his neck. He held on tighter.
This was the boy she remembered. The one who trusted her completely and held nothing back. Maybe the time away hadn’t really changed him. Or maybe he was still transforming. Whatever they used to be, whatever they were now, it didn’t matter. He needed her, she was there. Simple as that. She slid a hand over his cheek then along his jaw, tipping his chin up with her fingers. “Come on. Walk with me.”
Her voice trembled even though she fought it, and he leaned back and looked up at her with mild surprise and guilt as if he’d forgotten she’d lost a grandfather, too. “Ari…”
“It’s okay.” And it was. He hadn’t been oblivious to her pain, just lost in his own. She held out a hand.
He glanced at Niskamij.
“He’s free now. And if I know him, he’ll be waiting for us on the trail.”
Bear turned back to her, his expression unreadable until the smallest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He took her hand and stood, letting her guide him out the back door.
The sun had made some progress, and the morning air warmed as they walked, the dew and mist starting to evaporate. The crisp, fresh air resuscitated her, and the heaviness of the house faded away with each step. The warm, strong weight of his hand in hers grounded her in the moment. Just like always. The days when they’d walked around the reserve attached at the hip seemed like a lifetime ago, but the actual feeling, the sensation of his rough palm against her smooth one made it feel like no time had passed at all. They’d been with other people, lived other lives, and somehow the easy familiarity and the sweet zing of connection were still there. How could that be?
It was only a five-minute walk to the edge of the woods, and from there they took the well-worn path they’d hiked a million times as kids. Sometimes with Niskamij and sometimes to sneak off and make out beyond the eyes of their elders. It wasn’t long before the rush of water broke the silence. She let Bear take the lead when they got to the pond’s edge, and he climbed the rocks to their spot behind the waterfall, not letting go of her hand even after they sat.
Sunlight streamed through the curtain of water, but it was still shaded in the small cave. It wasn’t deep enough to need to worry about wildlife. The only Bear requiring concern squeezed her hand as he stared straight ahead. “I’m glad you’re here.” His deep voice wavered, and he cleared his throat. It really had been a long time since he’d let someone in. That was more gratifying than it should be.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Are you?” He glanced at her, surprise and what looked like hesitant hope lifting his brows.
Yes. “It’s good that you could be here. That you got to say goodbye to him.”
The flash of disappointment in his eyes undercut her rallying defenses.
“And … it’s been nice to see you again.”
“I really am sorry.” His gaze was so intense, a mix of anguish and something much more complex.
“I know.”
He glanced from her lips to her eyes and back. The air between them was supercharged and thick. His pull was irresistible, and the fact that she shouldn’t give in made it all the more potent and tempting. She leaned in halfway, and he didn’t hesitate. His lips met hers, eager and hungry. The flood of pure energy was like holding a live wire with wet hands. It was too much but felt so good. Every time they came together this way, memories overwhelmed her. The past was very present, but if they really wanted to know each other now, they’d have to put it behind them. Was that even possible?
She set a hand on his chest. His heart raced beneath her touch, making it even harder to pull away. When she did, she gasped for breath, smoothed a hand back over her ponytail, and tried to get a handle on the hormones when what she really wanted to do was climb in his lap and give in to the crazy chemistry between them that clearly hadn’t faded at all.
His hand closed over hers, and he stared at her with eyes like smoldering charcoal. “I know you’re feeling this.”
“Yeah, that’s not the problem.”
“What is?”
“We’re both vulnerable right now. Heightened emotions. Not the best time for life-altering decisions.”
It took a minute, but eventually the lust haze lifted, and a mix of guilt and embarrassment pinched the corners of his eyes. “You’re right. God. I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t the only one who got caught up.”
“Really?”
Oops.
“One date, Ari. You said you’d think about coffee. C’mon, there’s obviously still something here. Niskamij said … well, he told me a lot of things I already knew. Or should have known.”
How did he do it? How did he look like a little boy and an alpha wolf at the same time? If Bear could be summed up in one word, it’d be tenacious. It defined his approach to everything he wanted, so it wasn’t like putting him off would shake his focus on this. Besides. There was a big gap separating the boy she knew from the man sitting beside her, and curiosity just might eat her alive if she didn’t agree. “Okay. Coffee.”
“But not in Bear Mountain. I’d rather not have the whole reserve crowded around our table, hanging onto every word. Let’s go into the city.”
Into the city. Fredericton was a short drive from Bear Mountain and considerably more metropolitan even though it was small. Still, all of that added up to a real date. But it was just one night. She could survive that. Probably. “All right.”
The relief and hope that lit his eyes left a heavy feeling in her stomach. Her lips parted with every intention
of keeping his optimism in check, but nothing would come out. Not now. Instead, she said, “Do you want to head back?”
“Not yet, okay?”
“Okay.”
He pivoted and scooted closer so they were shoulder to shoulder and took her hand again as he stared into the falling water.
She gave his hand a squeeze, and his grip tightened. No matter how much he might have changed, the most important thing remained the same: in three months he would leave.
7
It was a half hour drive to King’s Place Mall, and the only sound in the car came from the radio, switched to a soft rock station. Bear drove, and Aria sat beside him, her posture stiff. The way she worried the bracelet on her wrist said she was at least as nervous as he was. This was not how he’d envisioned it, but any time with her was better than none. And maybe the discomfort wasn’t entirely due to the fact that this was their first date in almost a decade. Niskamij’s funeral had been the day before, and while their culture celebrated people’s lives upon their deaths, there had still been sadness. Especially for Aria.
“You still haven’t told me exactly where we’re going.”
Her voice almost made him jump. She hadn’t spoken since they’d gotten in the car, and based on her body language, there hadn’t been much hope she’d say a word for the rest of the night. Did she regret that afternoon in the cave? They hadn’t done anything more than kiss, though there’d been the temptation. Maybe she regretted agreeing to the date.
She knocked lightly on the side of his head like it was a door. “Hello?”
A smile and a slow breath escaped him at the familiar gesture, something she used to do when he got lost in thought. “Sorry. Second Cup Café. Not very upscale, I know, but the kind of date I wanted to take you on would involve a longer drive, a ball room, maybe a carriage ride…”
“You wanted to take me to 18th century Vienna?”
“No, I mean—”
