Page 22 of Bear's Heart

Savannah reached her car and slid behind the steering wheel, remembering how she’d told Bear what she’d done, how the truth had come out in a fight, a terrible fight, and that had been the end of her and Bear.

It was what she’d wanted at the time, her pain seemingly as great as his, only later… later she realized she’d made the two worst mistakes of her life—ending the pregnancy and telling Bear.If she hadn’t told Bear, they might have worked things out.They might still be together today, because that was what she’d wanted.She’d loved him fiercely, passionately, and in a fit of passion, she’d screamed what she’d done, wanting him to feel her pain.

She’d been successful, because he had.

Now she was facing another impossible decision.Noah could at least provide for the baby—should she choose to keep it.

Noah would take care of them both.That was the kind of man he was.Loyal, honest, kind.If only he was her type.

She wasn’t attracted to kind men.Bear had been gorgeous and tough, but she wouldn’t have called him kind.Bear, being Bear, was ambitious and fearless, but not patient, and not doting.He’d been loyal, though.He’d also always been honest.He’d never cheated on her, and yet he’d never made her his world, or his focus.No, that had always been his career.He’d loved bull riding more than he’d loved her.

Savannah turned on her favorite country satellite channel, the Garth Brooks channel, and tried to quiet her thoughts.Her head ached and she felt heartsick.She didn’t want to think anymore.She just wanted to forget.

Once home, back at the apartment she shared with Noah, Savannah opened her fridge, studied her beverage options, wanting a glass of wine, thinking it sounded really good, but she went for one of her peach ice teas instead.

Collapsing on her couch in the tiny but elegant living room, she sipped her tea and stared up at the ceiling fan, doing her best to avoid thinking of anything, not wanting to remember the doctor’s pleased expression as he listened to the baby’s heartbeat.Not wanting to remember how shitty she felt walking out of his office.

Men should be the ones to have the babies.Men should have to turn themselves inside and out for reproduction.As it stood, they had things too easy.Get hard, ejaculate.There you go.Done.

She squirmed against the cushions, trying to get more comfortable.Her bra hurt.Her boobs were way too tender.She hated having Noah touch them, but she couldn’t tell him why she didn’t want him to touch them.And he was a boob man.Loved to pinch and knead and suck.

The pressure was back in her chest, the one that made it hard to breathe.

She didn’t want to be the bad guy again.The bitch.The ruthless, relentless ball-breakin’ female who only cared about herself… even though the description resembled her to aT.

Tears burned, itching her eyes, scratching at her throat, begging to get free.If only she didn’t have such big dreams.If only she could be like other women, happy with hearth and home, a man, and kids.

If only she didn’t need to sing and make everyone sit up and listen.God, she loved it when they got quiet and listened with their hearts and not their ears.She could feel it when the audience got it.She could feel it when they got her.

She was a good singer, too.She had a good voice.God-given talent.She booked gigs and had fans and traveled nine months out of the year doing her version of the circuit—opening for the big names at the big state fairs and playing the smaller clubs and honky-tonk bars in between.

The door opened, closed, footsteps sounded in the hall, boots against slate tile.

Noah was home.

“Baby, you home?”he called from the entry.

She half-closed her eyes, listening to him set his keys down on the hall table, picturing him setting his hat next to the keys.Cowboys didn’t hang their hats, they stored them flat.She hadn’t known that when she’d first met Bear.

“In the living room,” she called.

His footsteps quickened.He entered the room, tall, broad shouldered, his thick dark blond hair cropped close, emphasizing the strong angular lines of his face.

Leaning over her, he smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, and then her mouth.“How did things go at the doctor?”

“Good.”She smiled up at him, her smile artificially bright, hiding the tumult within.

She’d told him the doctor appointment was about her throat, her voice, and she’d told herself she did it to protect him, because Noah wasn’t duplicitous.He didn’t lie.He didn’t pretend to be anything he wasn’t.Not like her.

“No real damage to those vocal cords?”he asked, kissing her forehead again.

“Just a little strain, no polyp.”

“What are you supposed to do for it?”

“Avoid smoking, drinking caffeine.The usual.”

“But then it should be okay?No long-term damage.”

---