Page 20 of Beary In Love

His bear rumbled in agreement. They'd both wanted to hurt her like she'd hurt them - and succeeded spectacularly.

Logan trudged along the sanctuary's fence line as the setting sun painted long shadows across the grounds. The lingering scent of Serena's potions mixed with her anger still hung in the air.

He paused at the eastern corner where they'd worked together earlier and touched the fence. The magical tingle reminded him of her careful work and precise movements. Everything she did was measured, planned - except leaving him. That had been impulsive, desperate.

And entirely his fault.

"I was scared," he admitted to the empty sanctuary. His bear huffed in acknowledgment. "Scared she'd realize she was too good for this place. For me."

A fox poked its head out of its den, giving him an unimpressed look.

"I know. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that." Logan crouched down to check the fox's water bowl. "Instead of supporting her dreams, I tried to clip her wings. Real alpha male move there, huh?"

The fox yipped.

"Exactly. And now she's back, and I'm still acting like a territorial jackass." He straightened up and dusted off his jeans. "She wanted to be more than just Logan Steele's wife in a small town. Can't blame her for that."

His bear bellowed in agreement. They'd both known, even back then, that Serena was meant for bigger things. He'd just been too selfish to admit it.

The worst part? She'd come back anyway, life having dealt her its own hard knocks, and here he was, rubbing salt in her wounds instead of being the man he should've been ten years ago.

He'd have to fix this. Somehow. If only to keep her help with protecting the sanctuary. That's what he told himself, anyway, ignoring how his bear whined at the thought of never seeing her again.

9

SERENA

Serena's hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white as she drove back home. The late afternoon sun glared through her windshield and made her squint behind her glasses. She blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears forming in her eyes fall.

"Stupid, stubborn bear," she muttered, jabbing at her radio buttons. The silence in her car felt too heavy. "As if I'm the only one to blame for what happened."

A country song crackled through her speakers, some sappy love ballad about second chances. She switched it off quickly.

Her mind drifted back to that night ten years ago, the memory as sharp as broken glass. "You're choosing your career over us," Logan had said then, his words echoing in her head now.

"Because it was my dream!" She smacked her palm against the steering wheel, then immediately felt foolish for arguing with a memory. "And you could have... you could have..."

What? What exactly could he have done? Followed her to the city? Left his family's land? She hadn't even given him the chance to suggest alternatives.

Serena pulled over to the side of the road, her chest suddenly tight. The trees lining the street swayed in the breeze. Their leaves danced with the same restless energy that coursed through her.

She pulled her glasses off and pressed her palms against her eyes. "I did the exact same thing today that I did ten years ago. Just stormed off without letting him finish."

Her phone buzzed in her purse. Probably Julie, wanting to know how things went at the sanctuary. Serena ignored it.

"Ten years ago, I was so sure I was right." She dropped her hands to her lap, staring at the blurry dashboard. "Now I'm not sure about anything anymore."

The truth settled over her like a heavy blanket. She'd been so young, so certain that running away and never looking back was the answer. And today, she'd fallen right back into the same pattern - running away when things got difficult.

"Maybe we're both stubborn idiots," she whispered, a watery laugh escaping her lips.

Half an hour later, Serena trudged through her front door, dropping her purse on the floor with a thud. The check from Logan crinkled in her pocket as she flopped onto her secondhand couch, its springs creaking in protest.

"At least the animals are doing better," she muttered to the empty room. Her voice echoed off the bare walls - she still hadn't unpacked her pictures. The boxes loomed in the corner like cardboard sentinels, judging her lack of progress.

Her phone buzzed again. Julie's name flashed on the screen.

"Not now," Serena sighed, silencing it. She'd have to face her friend's questions eventually, but right now she just wanted to wallow.

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