Page 21 of Off-Limits to the Grizzly

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbles, stumbling backward.

“I-it’s okay. I wanted it.”

“It’s not okay.” He presses a hand across his mouth. “What am I doing? Shit, Blair, put your clothes on.” He grabs at my bra and shirt, tries to drag them over my tits.

“I can manage,” I bat his hands away, ice darting through my veins.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ve gotta get out of here.” In a flash, he darts away from me, yanks the front door open, and he’s gone.

Out into the howling blizzard.

For a long moment, I stand there, stunned, hands over my tits. Then I drag my jeans up my thighs and untangle my bra and shirt. What just happened? It was all fine, until he found out I was a virgin?

Why was that a bad thing?

I feel embarrassed. Kind of ashamed, like I pushed him into this or something. But that’s not how it was?

I’m so confused.

And what is he doing, out in the blizzard? I run to the window, push the curtain aside. The snow is falling fast now, driven by the wind. There’s no way he could drive in weather like this.

But what’s that on the ground? Something dark blue. Is it…?

I open the front door. Right away, a gust of wind tears it out of my grasp. I shiver violently as the chill goes right through my clothes. But I keep going.

Mr Johnson’s clothes. His shirt and jeans and boots and socks are lying in a heap on the pathway. “What the…?” I mutter.

Then my brain catches up.

Far in the distance, between the trees, is a big, dark brown shape. And in front of the clothes, a set of huge animal footprints marks the fresh snow. Bear footprints.

Mr Johnson shapeshifted into his bear form—because he was so freaked out by my virginity?

Another gust of wind almost knocks me off my feet. I gather up his stuff and dash back into the cabin.

* * *

I hideout in Kayla’s room, sitting cross-legged on her bed, cuddling her old Jack Skellington doll, and trying to process everything that’s happened. My best friend left because she was a shifter, not because I wasn’t enough for her. I realize now, that’s what I’ve believed all these years: that my friendship wasn’t enough to make her stay.

And Mr Johnson used to be hostile toward me because he wanted to protect me.

But also because he was attracted to me.

I recall all those moments when I was at Kayla’s place and he wouldn’t even look at me.

He wants me and he hates himself for it.

I’m not a kid anymore, though. I’m a grown woman. Who’s still all wet from his kisses, his touch.

I just wish there was some way I could convince him that what’s happening between us is not wrong.

It’s past eight,and he’s still not back. Maybe he’s never coming back.

The thought of not seeing Mr Johnson again is like a knife in my chest. What will I do if he just, never returns? Wait out the blizzard, then go looking for him on foot? Figure out that he doesn’t want to see me again, and drag myself off someplace else?

My stomach starts to grumble, so I rummage in the fridge. It’s crammed full of delicious-looking food. I cook up some chicken and vegetables and make a pasta sauce. It takes a while but I’ve got nothing else to do, apart from wonder whether Mr Johnson has found some shelter from the blizzard, and nurse my aching heart.

When I’ve finished eating, I add some more logs to the fire. I keep peeking through the window. The sky is slate gray and a blanket of snow covers the pathway and the trees and Mr Johnson’s truck. Can bears survive out in a storm like this? Don’t they usually hibernate during the winter? I press my nose to the frosty window and a shudder goes through me at the thought of him stuck somewhere, stranded.

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