Page 78 of Grin and Bear It

Artair turned to Thora, expecting to find her annoyed by the invasion. Instead, something soft and surprised flickered across her face at the sight of people who had come specifically for her. The expression sent an ache through his heart—how little she expected to matter to others.

“You look better,” Kalyna said, placing a basket on the coffee table. The fox shifter’s elegant movements contrasted with her direct gaze as she assessed Thora. “Still pale, but your aura’s brighter.”

“My what?”

“Your energy signature.” Kalyna waved elegant fingers in the air around Thora. “It was all murky and tangled when they brought you in. Now it’s more... sabertooth-y again.”

“That’s not a word,” Rust remarked, his arm sliding around his mate’s waist.

Kalyna leaned into him. “It absolutely is in fox vocabulary.”

Artair watched Thora’s reaction to their casual affection. Her eyes tracked the easy way they touched, the unconscious synchronizing of their movements. Something like wistfulness crossed her face before she masked it.

Bryn emerged from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. “Honeycrisp cider—Tilly infused it with calming magic.” She offered one to Thora. “And we brought enough food to last a week. Nothing that requires actual cooking.” She shot Artair a teasing look. “For everyone’s safety.”

“I taught Rust how to grill,” Artair pointed out.

“After I taught you,” Rust countered. “Your first attempt nearly burned down half the forest.”

“Details,” Artair grumbled.

Jash had already made himself comfortable, unpacking various containers onto the coffee table. “Lasagna from Sunrise Diner, chicken soup from Eira—which I was instructed to tell you contains secret bear clan healing herbs—and these weird purple berry things Kalyna insisted have restorative properties.”

“Moon plums,” Kalyna corrected. “They align spiritual energy with physical recovery. And they taste like blueberries mixed with honey. The library archives are full of knowledge. Some useful. Some not.”

Artair noticed how Thora’s eyes widened at the array of food. “You didn’t have to?—”

“Yes, we did,” Bryn interrupted, patting Thora’s hand. “That’s what family does.”

The simple statement hung in the air. Artair saw Thora’s fingers tremble slightly before she curled them around her mug.

“Besides,” Kalyna added, “Artair needs supervision. He’s gone full domesticated bear. It’s adorable but slightly alarming.”

“I am not?—”

“He reorganized the pantry,” Jash stage-whispered to Thora. “Alphabetized the spices.”

“They were a mess,” Artair defended.

“He washed the windows,” Bryn added. “Twice.”

“The light pattern was uneven!”

Thora’s laughter—soft but genuine—cut through his embarrassment. The sound warmed him from the inside, worth any amount of teasing.

“The mighty alpha nesting,” Rust nodded sagely. “Classic mate behavior.”

Artair shot his friend a warning look, but Thora seemed more amused than frightened by the implication.

SIXTY-NINE

The afternoon passed in a blur of conversation, food, and easy companionship. Artair watched Thora gradually relax among his friends and family, her natural reserve giving way to occasional smiles and even a few jokes. Each laugh, each moment of connection with the others, settled something in his chest.

She belonged here. With them. With him.

As evening approached, Thora’s energy visibly flagged. She tried to hide it, but Artair caught the subtle signs—the tightness around her eyes, the careful way she shifted position to avoid aggravating her wounds.

Kalyna noticed too. “We should go. Patient needs rest.” She placed a small velvet pouch on the table. “Lavender and moonflower sachets for under your pillow. They’ll help with healing dreams.”

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