Page 26 of Taken Home By the Grizzly

The afternoon sunlight is glinting off the snow, and it’s a perfect wintry scene. I take a bunch of selfies and shots of the three of them gathered around the snow bear. When I’m done, they rush over and stare at my phone screen curiously. They’re not used to seeing themselves, I gather from their comments. No one’s ever taken photos before? That’s one of the saddest things I’ve heard.

When we’re all selfied out, we go inside, and I lock the door, just like Lock told me to. I love the way he was taking charge like that, like we were a real couple. Could that happen?

We’re different species, but I want to be with him.

Sure, I want him so bad it hurts. But I also want to just spend time with him, get to know all about him. He makes me feel like I can open myself up to him. And I’ve never felt like that with anyone before.

Shit, it’s so soon, but I think I might be falling for this big, sexy bear-man.

The kids are yawning and drowsy. I tug their coats off, then I put them on the couch while I go make some warm milk and grab a plate of cookies. When I come back, they’re piled together like puppies. While they’re munching, I go hunt down a bunch of blankets in the bedroom closet. When I come back, the other two are sleeping, but Mari is staring at me with her solemn black eyes.

“Will you and Lock be our mom and dad now?” she whispers.

I frown, not sure how to answer. “You have your own parents, honey,” I say at last.

She looks at me seriously. “They are never coming back, you know?”

“W-what do you mean?”

Her eyes get very bright. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she mutters, “because now you’ll leave.”

My heart breaks for this poor little girl.

“Mari, I will never leave you until I know you’re safe. I can promise you that.”

She closes her eyes in a very adult expression of relief.

“You said that Michelle and Adrian weren’t your real parents. What makes you say that?” I ask cautiously. But she doesn’t reply.

She’s not asleep. I can see a little spasm in her eyelids. Either she doesn’t know, or she doesn’t want to tell me, poor thing.

* * *

While they’re snoozing,I decide to get the house in some kind of order. I track down a bunch of cleaning supplies and get to work.

I don’t mind cleaning, especially when I’ve got Lock to daydream about.

An hour and a half later, and I’ve made a whole lot more progress than I’d expected. It’s actually a nice house, under all that dust and grime. I get the sense that it’s owned by an older person who’s maybe gotten less active over the years. A lot of the furnishings are outdated and real worn. There are four bedrooms though, and I wonder if it used to be a family house, full of fun and laughter.

The last bedroom along the hallway is full of cardboard boxes. Some of them are open and I see a bunch of files peeking out.

I hesitate in the doorway. I don’t have the right to look at any of this stuff, but I need to figure out what’s going on.

With a sigh, I grab the nearest box and start rifling through.

A few minutes later, I strike gold. There’s a ton of mail that’s been sent to this property, addressed to a Mr and Mrs Wilson.

Then I find the deeds to the house. Yup, they are—or were—the legal owners. They’ve owned it for forty-seven years.

I head back downstairs. The kids are still sleeping. I settle down on a battered old armchair and pull my phone out of my pocket.

There’s a text from an unknown sender:

Is everything ok at home? I’ve been thinking about you a lot x

My heart jumps.

Lock.

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