Page 12 of Honey for the Bear

I need coffee.

The kitchen is a mess, the table still cluttered with wood shavings and unfinished carvings, but I ignore it.I pour myself a cup, the bitter aroma filling the air, and lean against the counter, staring out the window.

The woods are quiet in the early morning light, the trees casting long shadows across the ground.It should be peaceful, but it’s not.Not when my mind keeps drifting back to Hannah.

Her laugh.Her smile.The way her eyes lit up when I tasted her muffins and told her they were good.

I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, convincing myself it’s for their own good.But with Hannah, it’s different.She doesn’t just make me want to stay.She makes me want to be better.

And that terrifies me.

***

IfindmyselfatEarl’s workshop later that day, the familiar scent of sawdust and varnish hitting me the moment I step through the door.Earl is hunched over his workbench, his hands steady as he carves the leg of a chair.

“Been expecting you,” he says without looking up.

I grunt in response, grabbing a piece of sandpaper from the pile on the bench and running it over the edge of a wooden plank.The rhythmic motion is soothing, the rough texture grounding me as I work.

Earl doesn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch between us.But I feel his eyes on me, sharp and knowing, like he’s waiting for me to crack.

“You look like hell,” he says finally, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Thanks,” I mutter, not bothering to look up.

“You want to tell me what’s eating you, or are you just here to brood?”

I sigh, setting the sandpaper down and rubbing the back of my neck.“It’s nothing.”

Earl snorts.“Bullshit.”

I glance at him, my jaw tightening.He raises an eyebrow, his expression daring me to argue.

“It’s Hannah,” I say finally, the words heavy in my mouth.

“Ah,” Earl says, nodding like he’s been expecting this.“The honey girl.”

I scowl at him, but he just chuckles, leaning back against the workbench.“What about her?”

“I can’t…” I trail off, struggling to find the right words.“She deserves better than this.Better than me.”

Earl gives me a long, hard look, his gaze steady and unflinching.“You know, for a guy who spends half his time carving bears, you sure are blind to the fact that you’re acting like one.”

I blink, caught off guard.“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re scared,” Earl says, his voice gruff but not unkind.“You think pushing her away is protecting her, but all you’re doing is protecting yourself.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I turn away, my hands clenching into fists.

“You don’t understand,” I say quietly.“If she knew what I am—”

“She’d probably surprise you,” Earl interrupts, his tone firm.“That girl’s tougher than she looks.And from what I’ve seen, she’s not afraid of you.She’s afraid you’ll never let her in.”

I don’t respond, the knot in my chest tightening until it’s almost unbearable.

“You can’t keep running, Cameron,” Earl says, his voice softer now.“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to decide if she’s worth the risk.”

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words settling over me like a lead blanket.

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