Page 29 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

How the hell do I explain that my inner Bear is irrationally angry at a date I haven’t even been on yet?

And worse—why do I have a sinking suspicion that this is all somehow, some way, connected toPizza Girls?

Fuck. Fine.

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face because, honestly? I might as well tell him.

Wolves are the worst when it comes to being nosy. Probably why he makes such a good PI.

“My Bear is kinda stuck on one of the owners downstairs.”

The words taste like defeat as they leave my mouth.

“And?” Doug asks.

“Andnow, with this date, he’s all out of sorts.”

Doug’s chewing slows as his eyes light up with recognition.

“Ohshit. A normal, huh?” He lets out a low whistle. “Yeah, my uncle married a normal.”

I arch a brow. “Yeah? How’d that go? Because, for my dad, it was pretty fucking terrible.”

Doug grimaces but shrugs.

“I mean, they’re still together. Happily, actually. But, yeah, there were some adjustments. Lotta yelling. Lotta broken furniture. And definitely some‘why is my husband suddenly a giant furry monster’moments.”

I grunt. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“So maybe your Bear should be happy you found a match on Uncle Uzzi’s app,” Doug points out, waving his half-eaten pizza slice in the air like a makeshift pointer. “I mean, the man’s a genius, right?”

He’s got a point.

Uzzi’s app isn’t some regular, algorithmic mess of random profiles. The guy knows things. And if he matched me with someone? There’s a reason.

“I know,” I admit. “But I can’t help but feel like I’m cheating if I go on this date.”

Because that’s the truth.

I’ve been living like an absolute psycho for the past fourteen days. AvoidingPizza Girlslike my life depended on it.

Taking the long way around the block.

Literally forcing myself to stay away—just so I wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Carina’s sweet face.

And why?

Because I’m a freaking coward, that’s why.

Hiding my feelings because I don’t want to face the possibility that she might be mine—and worse, that she might not want me back.

Just like my human mother didn’t want me.

The thought makes my Bear snarl, deep and guttural, the pain rising up before I can shove it back down where it belongs.

I don’t think about her.

I refuse to think about her.

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