A Lion Shame (Bear Creek Grizzlies Book 3)

by Layla Nash

  SJ stopped at the business office in the hospital, talking to at least half a dozen people before she found the right one, and she paid all of Rosie's hospital bills. In cash, of course. The administrator raised his eyebrows but didn't argue — apparently it wasn't that strange, since a lot of people in that part of the state didn't have insurance and relied on other earnings to pay for care. Then SJ made her way up to Rosie's hospital room, took one look at her godmother, and burst into grateful tears.

  Rosie held her arms out and SJ collapsed against her, beside herself with gratitude. Dakota was the only one not crying, and instead babbled and shrieked when she saw Rosie again. When SJ finally composed herself, she dragged one of the chairs over to Rosie's bed and sat, letting Rosie snuggle Dakota as the cougar murmured and whispered about how much she'd missed the baby.

  SJ cleared her throat and glanced at the door, a little nervous about Tate or Simon or someone else showing up. She wasn't sure how they'd take her leaving, not that it really mattered. SJ did what she had to do. "I'm sure glad to see you looking better, Rosie. I had to borrow your car for a bit, but I'm ready to drive you home."

  Rosie made faces at Dakota until the baby giggled, clapping her hands. "That's what I heard, darlin'. Is everything okay? Got everything taken care of you needed to?"

  "I think so." SJ covered her face, letting out a shaky breath. "I feel free, Rosie, for the first time in a really long time. I feel like I can actually start over now, like I've got nothing holding me back."

  "I'm glad." Rosie tickled Dakota, then slid SJ a sideways glance. "Let's get out of here. This hospital food is killing me, and I haven't had a beer in over a week. I'm ready to get the hell home."

  SJ laughed, picking up Dakota to give Rosie room, and handed her the small duffel bag someone left near the bed with clothes and toiletries. As Rosie dressed, SJ cleared her throat. "Simon had the rest of the town clean up your apartment. It looks real nice now. You can't even tell anything... happened."

  "Good. I wasn't looking forward to scrubbing week-old blood off the walls. That shit turns into cement." Rosie winced as she pulled on sweatpants and grumbled about the hospital gown. "I've had to do that before and it's no fun."

  "Oh." SJ didn't quite know what to say to that.

  Rosie didn't wait very long before going on. "You'll stay with me for a while, won't you? I'm still not feeling a hundred percent, so it would be nice to have someone else in the house. I don't know what your plans are, darlin', but you should give Bear Creek a chance."

  "I'm not sure I'm welcome," SJ said, picking up Dakota and the duffel bag as she helped Rosie to her feet and to the waiting orderly and wheelchair. "Tate was pretty insistent that I get the hell out of town."

  "He didn't mean it." Rosie smiled at the orderly and even patted the young man's impressive bicep. "And how are you today, handsome?"

  He chuckled and SJ rolled her eyes, glad to laugh as well as Rosie continued to mercilessly flirt with the orderly all the way to the sidewalk outside. SJ left Dakota with Rosie and got the car, thanking the orderly profusely for tolerating Rosie's shenanigans. It wasn't until they were all buckled safely into the car and SJ got them back on the road that Rosie went on. "They let us leave awful easy, SJ. Are they sending the bill? Do you hear them say whether Simon took care of everything?"

  "I paid it off," SJ said, though she hesitated.

  "You did what?" Rosie grabbed her arm and pointed back to the hospital. "Oh no. You need that money for other things. You don't need to be —"

  "It's fine, Rosie." SJ tried to smile. "Really. I took some of the money that Chuck set aside. There was more than enough. I've been settling debts this last week, and I wanted to pay you back a little for all you did, trying to keep Dakota safe."

  Rosie's eyes glinted as she stared at SJ. "Don't you lie to me, young lady."

  "I'm not. I promise, there was more than enough." SJ concentrated on driving, still not comfortable on the winter roads even with hints of spring.

  Rosie didn't say anything else until SJ parked in front of the restaurant in Bear Creek, gathering up Dakota and the duffel and everything else, then helping Rosie out of the car and across the sidewalk. The older woman took her time, though she scolded SJ for hovering, and SJ's heart sank when Rosie had to pause on the landing to catch her breath before heading up the second flight of stairs. It really hurt to see Rosie still so weak. SJ juggled her bag, trying to find the spare key she'd kept from the set she left under the welcome mat, but froze when Rosie said, "Oh, the door's open. You didn't set up a welcome home party, did you?"

  SJ's heart dropped and she almost tackled Rosie. "Don't —"

  Anyone could have been waiting inside. More of Chuck's guys, looking for the money.

  But Rosie hobbled into the apartment and laughed. "Tathan!"

  And SJ's heart sank a little more, since Tate stood in the kitchen. A pile of grocery bags covered the kitchen table, and the refrigerator door stood open as he put them away. Tate looked awful. Just awful. Like he'd been deathly ill for months, all haggard and wan.

  Rosie immediately grabbed his face in her hands. "Are you pining away for me, young man? You should have visited me in the hospital, you asshole, and don't you think I didn't notice!"

  Tate tried to smile, a ghastly sight, and leaned to hug her gingerly. "I wasn't feeling well, Rosie, and I didn't want to make you sick."

  Rosie glanced between them, then took Dakota and limped over to the couch. "Well. We'll have a chat about that later, Tathan. I'm going to take this delightful young lady and we're going to take a nap."

  "His name is Thaddeus," SJ said, not thinking, and Rosie froze in mid-step. When she turned, the delight on her face almost made the last week worth it.

  "Thaddeus?" Rosie said, practically beaming. "That's better than I could have ever imagined."

  "You really didn't need to tell her," Tate said, but there wasn't any anger in it. Just a hint of resignation.

  SJ started to worry. He looked like a shadow of himself. A ghost with Tate's voice. As Rosie chuckled and sang a song about Thaddeus someone to Dakota, SJ couldn't stand the silence and instead put down all her bags to help put away the groceries, since Tate hadn't moved and the fridge remained open. She almost couldn't look at him. "How did you know we were coming back?"

  "A friend at the hospital," Tate said. "One of the wolves works there as an orderly. He called me when you picked Rosie up, so I thought I'd get food since there wasn't anything in here."

  "Thank you," SJ said. "That was really nice."

  "Have you eaten?"

  SJ glanced at him, heat rising in her cheeks for no reason she could think of, other than the look in his eyes when he watched her. "No, but I'll just make something here."

  "Right." Tate nodded, then reached for his jacket and keys. "I'll leave you to —"

  "You can stay." SJ blurted it out. "If you want. I'll just make spaghetti or something, but you're welcome to stay."

  "Thanks." Tate put the jacket back down. He frowned at the groceries for a long moment, then seemed to make up his mind. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. "I'll cook. You relax and catch up with Rosie. We can talk when you're ready."

  But SJ glanced over and saw both Rosie and Dakota fast asleep on the couch, trading snores, and instead eased to sit at the kitchen table so she could watch him chop vegetables. She couldn't take the silence for very long. "I'm sorry I just took off. I should have left a note or something."

  "You'd been through a lot," he said, filling a pot with water to boil. "It made sense to go somewhere you felt safe."

  "That doesn't make it right." SJ sighed and covered her face. She wasn't entirely ready to talk to Tate. She didn't really understand how she felt. And yet there was such a strong pull to him that all she wanted to do was go lean against him and press her face against his shoulder. But she held on to the table instead. "And I — I took the money. From the car. I took it all."

  "Yeah, I figured as much when the com
partment was empty." Tate didn't turn from the stove, and SJ couldn't tell if there was judgment behind the statement. It didn't sound like it. There wasn't a hint of the caustic condemnation she'd almost expected. But Tate just shrugged. "The guys checked the compartments during the raid and said they assumed that one wasn't loaded. No one's looking for the money, as far as I know."

  SJ exhaled some of the anxiety that had gripped her every minute since she unloaded the cash and hit it in a drainage ditch on her way to the cabin. "Well, that's good."

  Tate threw onions and garlic into a sauce pan, and the sharp scent tickled her nose as she watched. She wanted to help, but he took up a lot of room at the stove. Tate glanced back at her, though, and gestured at one of the bags still on the table. "Can you pass the tomatoes and basil?"

  She did, trying not to shiver as her fingers brushed his and it felt like lightning arced between them. When he didn't speak, SJ cleared her throat. "I didn't keep all of it. The money, I mean. I paid off some debts and Rosie's hospital bills, and I put away a little for Dakota's future, but the rest of it I gave to a couple of charities. A women's shelter and a rehab clinic. I wanted it to do some good."

  "That's good." Some of the tension eased in Tate's shoulders. "I thought you were gone for good, to be honest, when the money wasn't there."

  "I thought you wanted me gone," she said. She didn't look at him, focusing instead on a lonely onion still on the table. "I didn't think anyone would mind."

  "Sarah Jane," he said, and turned. He leaned against the counter next to the stove, waiting until she looked up at him to go on. "I didn't mean that. I was an idiot and an asshole, and I'm sorry. I very much want you to stay in Bear Creek."

  SJ felt a little hope take root in her heart.

  Tate started to smile, just a little, and went back to the sauce before it burned.

  Chapter 31

  Tate

  The moment he saw Sarah Jane walk through the door of Rosie's apartment, part of Tate relaxed for the first time since she'd disappeared. The mountain lion exhaled and wanted to collapse in relief. But as much as he wanted to grab her in a hug and hold her forever, Tate kept his distance. He didn't want to scare her or overwhelm her, when Sarah Jane already looked a little frayed. He calmed in her presence, felt more grounded. He didn't even mind cooking — he wanted to cook, he wanted to feed her and make sure she was content.

  They didn't talk much as he finished the sauce, using a recipe he'd learned from one of the Sicilian kids who'd served with them in the Legion. The amount of garlic wasn't conducive to making out, but he didn't expect that to happen any time soon. It was a comfortable silence, though, broken only by occasional snorts and snores from Rosie and the baby. It felt like home. It felt like Tate finally had a home.

  He dumped the noodles into the sauce and made sure it was thoroughly mixed before loading two bowls. He took the chair next to her, needing to be closer than the chair across the table, and offered some of the fresh parmesan to Sarah Jane. She made yummy noises when she tasted the spaghetti, and Tate resisted the urge to preen.

  They'd eaten half the meal before Tate gathered his courage to talk about what really needed to be discussed. "There were a couple of things I needed to tell you. That you should know."

  Sarah Jane took a deep breath and brushed her red hair back over her ears, fiddling with her fork. She braced herself, like she expected something terrible, and Tate didn't know whether to laugh or apologize for everything that had happened to make her think it wouldn't be a good thing.

  He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the nape of his neck, the sleeplessness of the last week catching up with him. Even having his mate so close could hardly keep him awake. "Shifters are born with a mate — one person in the world who's their partner. A soul mate, really. Most of the time it's another shifter, though maybe a different kind. Sometimes the mate is human."

  Sarah Jane's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

  "And you're mine."

  The air grew heavy and thick as she watched him, and Tate couldn't take the silence. "You're my mate. Did you hear me?"

  "I did," she said, blinking long and slow. "But I don't know what that means."

  He touched her hand on the table, curling his fingers around hers and reveling in the softness of her skin. "It means that you're the one person in the entire world I'm meant to be with. You're the other half of my soul."

  A hint of a frown crossed her expression and he braced for the worst. It was too much to expect her to take in at once, after everything that had happened in the past few weeks. He wondered if she'd run again. The first time she disappeared almost killed him. Tate couldn't imagine surviving if she left for good.

  Sarah Jane looked him in the throat, but her hand moved tentatively to squeeze his fingers as well. "So the soul-mate thing. That means you love me?"

  "From the moment I saw you." Tate took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "And I owe you the full truth, Sarah Jane. Part of why I — well, part of why I was a jackass to you was because I was afraid. I still am, a little. You scare the hell out of me."

  "Me? I scare you?" She laughed, dark eyes flashing, and she leaned back to study him. Her hands slipped from his. "What, is it Dakota? You signed up for a mate but not one with a baby already?"

  And something in her expression betrayed a very deep fear that that was true. He wondered if it was how she ended up with the drug dealer boyfriend — Sarah Jane didn't believe she deserved someone better. He sat forward and slowly moved to hold her face, making sure she could see his eyes and the truth in them. "Listen to me. Dakota is part of you. Of course I love her, just as much as I love you."

  Sarah Jane tried to smile but her chin wobbled and she looked away. Still not believing him. Tate sighed, his fingers sliding under her chin to tilt her face so he could see every beautiful part of her. "Don't you remember that first night at the bar, when you were running around and trying to figure everything out?"

  She nodded, her eyes half-closed so her long lashes brushed her cheeks.

  "And didn't I hold Dakota for a couple of hours, so you could focus on your work?" He waited for another nod before he went on. "I'm not really known as a guy who does nice things for people. You can ask anyone. Ask Rosie. But it didn't occur to me not to hold your baby, Sarah Jane. She's perfect. I would have died to get her back."

  "She is perfect. She's my everything." A tear dropped from the corner of her eye, and Sarah Jane wiped at it quickly as she tried to laugh. "Then what about me could possibly scare you? You're terrifying."

  Tate took a deep breath. He didn't want to say it, didn't want to talk about it. But he owed her all of himself. He owed her vulnerability and honesty, since she had been so completely honest with him. Tate refused to look away. "Because I loved someone else, a long time ago. I thought she was everything. I thought she accepted me, that she loved me as well. And the moment I told her what I am, she wasn't interested. She didn't accept all that makes me who I am. It almost killed me, Sarah Jane."

  She touched his check, waiting. So patient. So understanding. His heart cracked.

  He had to clear his throat a few times to get rid of the knot of emotions that nearly choked him. "And what I feel for you is — it's more than I could ever imagine. She was nothing. You're my world. But the thought that you might reject that — that you would reject me — stopped me in my tracks. It still does. My heart is racing because all I can see in your face is that you probably want to run."

  Her palm rested on his chest, over his heart, and Sarah Jane looked at it for a long time, as Tate slowly died inside. She gnawed her lower lip, then said softly, "I've spent a lot of time running, Tate."

  He couldn't breathe. He was going to die of oxygen deprivation and stress; his heart would just explode in his chest. If she walked away, he'd just shift into the cougar and wander into the snow to die.

  "But I'm done running," she said, and a new resolve filled her expression. "I'm done. We're staying in Bear Creek for
a while."

  Tate started to smile, some of the tension easing in his chest. Before he could speak, though, Sarah Jane held up a hand to cut him off. "But I don't think I can survive it if you're this nice and then you change again. I don't think my heart can take it. So what you're saying is very sweet, and I want to believe you, but I don't know if I can trust you yet."

  Even a week earlier, Tate would have argued. He would have blown up or walked away from the table or gave her a bunch of promises that didn't mean anything. But he knew better than to do any of that. He'd grown, since that moment at the cabin when his world slowed down and reoriented with Sarah Jane at the center. So Tate nodded. He didn't argue. "I understand."

  Sarah Jane blinked, at a loss for words, then braced her hands on the table. "I like you, Tate. I like you a lot, but I have to be more careful with my choices. I know I feel something for you that I can't really explain. I don't know how that mate stuff works for humans, but that's where I'm at. It might take me some time to get everything figured out."

  "Take as long as you need." Tate ached to touch her to hug her, but he didn't dare move. It was still too tentative and new between them, and he couldn't risk ruining it. "But please let me take you on a date. And help you with whatever you need. I'll watch Dakota for you. I'll build you furniture if you need it, and carry your groceries, and make you dinner. I'll pack your lunch for you in the morning."

  A hint of a smile crossed her face, and Sarah Jane started to relax. She even smiled and picked up her fork, digging back into the cooling spaghetti. "If you cook this well all the time, I don't think I'd mind you making dinner every night."

  "Consider it done," he said.

  They finished eating in near quiet, though it was far more comfortable, and when Dakota stirred from where she slept on Rosie's chest, Tate got up to retrieve the baby and distract her so Sarah Jane could finish eating. The whole time, though, he was making plans. He needed new furniture for his apartment, and to clean out the spare room so he could put a crib and changing table and baby stuff in there, and to talk to Simon about the hours he worked at the Lodge. Tate had better things to focus on than hauling tourists around, and with winter setting in in earnest, things would slow down. Maybe for Thanksgiving, he could take Sarah Jane and Dakota up to the Lodge for a family dinner.