Page 97 of Stroke of Fate

“How do you like your eggs?” Bear asks her back to me as she cracks a few into the pan.

When we finally managed to drag ourselves out of bed, Bear offered to make us breakfast before heading back to the apartment.

“Scrambled, please,” comes my automatic reply.

I can't take my eyes off the scene before me. Bear is wearing one of my shirts that falls to her mid-thigh, with her hair in a messy bun. Barefoot and so fucking radiant.

I never understood when people said something was so beautiful it hurt to look at—until now. I can’t focus on anything but Bear. My eyes stick to her like magnets, drinking in every feature, committing it to memory, only to stare again, afraid I might’ve missed something.

I am utterly and completely mesmerized by her.

Standing in the kitchen, I grew up in for more than half my life; the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I want it all: a wife, babies, a house with a white picket fence. And I want it with Bear.

This moment is like a snapshot of our future, and my chest constricts at the thought of never getting to experience it one day.

Bear turns toward me, a pan of scrambled eggs in one hand and a frown on her face, maybe because I haven't moved. I’m supposed to be getting plates for us, but I only managed to get as far as opening the cupboard.

Dropping the pan back on the stove, she pads over to me. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a hint of concern lacing her voice, but when I smile, the frown between her brows slowly disappears.

I take a deep breath, suddenly nervous. I want to tell her I’m falling in love with her, but I’m scared that’ll freak her out, so I play it safe.

“Nothing, I’m just really happy.” It’s not a lie.

Shedoesmake me happy, but it’s become so much more than that with her.

A smile lights up her face, and she wraps her arms around my waist. I hug her back, resting my cheek on top of her head. I breathe in her sweet scent, letting it calm my racing heart.

“I’m really happy, too,” she murmurs. “You make me happy, Whiskey Eyes.”

I’m pretty sure my heart does a backflip when I hear those words from her.

28 | BEAR

Monday nights at work mean I can usually have a breather between customers. It’s our quietest day of the week, and I would normally welcome the slower pace, but I’m working alongside two older girls I don’t know very well. They’re both nice enough but keep to themselves more.

Time ticks by far more slowly without Macy or Elsie around to fill the slow gaps with conversation. Levi offered to keep me company, but I felt bad making him sit through my shift, knowing he had two training sessions today.

“I seated two people in your section, Bear.” Gracie, the hostess, says as she passes me at the bar.

“Thanks, Gracie.” I grab my notebook and pen before heading over.

Approaching the table, I halt when I notice who’s sitting in the booth with a smug, self-satisfied smirk on her face. I don’t even try to hide my eye roll. I should have known it was only a matter of time before this scenario played out.

I’m still at a loss for what I did to get on Sadie’s radar, but she’s looked down on me from the moment we met. Not that it was much of a meeting seeing as how she barely acknowledged me. But clearly, her attitude toward me hasn’t changed.

Steeling my spine, I walk over to Sadie and a girl I’ve never seen before. She’s petite, with mousy brown hair and a nervous demeanor, dropping her eyes to the menu the moment mine meet hers.

“Welcome to Static,” I say, my tone flat. “What drinks can I start you off with?”

Not a hint of the chirpy tone I’ve mastered since working here slips out. It’s better for the tips, but Sadie doesn’t come across as the generous kind. I’ll be lucky if they don’t dine and dash on me.

“Manhattan iced tea for me, and Kristen will have a Coke with lemon.”

I presume the girl who still hasn’t looked up is Kristen, and I wonder what her deal is. She looks like she’s slowly shrinking into her seat and letting Sadie order for her? Weird. It doesn’t sit right with me. Not when it feels like I’m watching a snake play with a mouse.

Ignoring Sadie, I turn to Kristen and offer her a small smile. “Are you okay with Coke, or would you prefer something else?”

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