Page 3 of Bearly Mated

Hudson haddefinitelygrown up. And though we’d video-chatted and talked on the phone, that was nowhere near enough to understand the full impact of a six-and-a-half foot bear shifter built like a tank.

He still had the same piercing green eyes, tan skin, and dark hair, but I was standing in front of themanversion of my best childhood friend. Not the teenage punk I’d left behind when I moved away for college.

“Holy shit, Hud.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He cracked a smile, his eyes moving down my figure before landing on my face. “Fuck, Cal.”

I rolled my eyes, but stepped into his arms the moment they opened for me. It had been a long eight years, but he would always feel like home to me.

Kevin excused himself with a murmur, but I barely heard him leave.

Hudson inhaled deeply, a typical bear thing to do, and I smiled against his chest when he rumbled like he always had. “At least you still smell like you.”

“You know I look exactly the same as I did when I left.”

“Like hell you do. You were pretty when you left me—now you’re sexy.”

I snorted. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, rumbling again before he released me. Though I would’ve rather stayed in his arms and avoided the coming conversation, I sat down on one side of the booth.

He took the other, somehow moving smoothly despite the massive brick wall he resembled.

“So,” he said.

“So.” I bit my lip.

The waiter picked that moment to come by and take Hudson’s order. He recognized that we were just seeing each other forthe first time in years and didn’t bother trying to stay and chat, which I appreciated.

“Your text said you needed help,” he said.

I hadn’t talked to him since before the funeral, and he didn’t live in Cub Lake, so I didn’t think he knew what had happened. I’d assumed his family would let him know at the time, but he never called. And I knew him well enough to be sure he would’ve called if he’d heard.

Though I’d known I should send him a text or just pick up the phone and call him, the idea of a conversation about it had been overwhelming.

So I just… didn’t.

“My dad passed away two months ago,” I admitted. “He had been fighting cancer for a while without telling me. He didn’t want me to leave my life in New York. The hospital called me a few days before I lost him.” I tried to stick to the facts, so I wouldn’t get emotional.

“What? Why the fuck didn’t you call me?”

“I dealt with it,” I said. “That’s not why we’re meeting.” I grabbed my sheets of paper off the seat beside me. They had been tucked under my small crossbody bag, so no one would accidentally see them.

I slid them across the table, and Hudson glanced down at the pages.

His eyes narrowed when he saw the numbers on the bottom.

I didn’t need to look.

One was from the hospital. The other was from the bank.

“He told me when he was dying that he’d started gambling again while I was gone. Remortgaged the house. Spent his retirement fund and maxed credit cards. He didn’t have life insurance, so all of my savings went into the funeral and other expenses. The mortgage transferred to me. Then the hospital bills came in. Apparently in our state, adult children are responsible for their parents’ medical debt. Some weird law about it passed a few years ago.”

“Is there a repayment plan?”

“The monthly payment is on the bottom right on both pages. I can sell the house, but I’ll still owe too much money,” I said. “It’ll be hanging over my head for the next two decades. Maybe more. And that’s even if I throw every extra penny at it.”

“I’ll cover it,” Hudson said, without pause. “I can afford it.”

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