Page 3 of Honey for the Bear

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, and I shake my head hard, as if I can physically dislodge the thought.No.I can’t.

Hannah is everything I shouldn’t want.Warm, open, kind—she’s a light, and I’m nothing but shadows.I’ve already been reckless enough just by being near her.If she knew the truth about me, she’d run.And I wouldn’t blame her.

The trees close in around me as I leave the main road and head deeper into the woods.The air here is cooler, the shadows longer, and the scent of pine and earth fills my lungs.My cabin lies just ahead, tucked away where no one ever ventures.It’s better this way—safer for everyone.

But even as I step through the door and set the bag on the counter, my thoughts are back at her honey stand.The memory of her smile, the way she leaned against the counter and teased me, her laughter—it all clings to me like the scent of wildflowers on the breeze.

My bear growls, low and insistent, and I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles white.

“Enough,” I mutter under my breath, but it’s no use.The beast doesn’t listen anymore, not when it comes toher.

I glance at the jar of honey sitting on the counter, its golden glow catching the light streaming through the cabin window.It’s stupid, really, the way I keep buying it.I don’t even eat honey.But holding it, having it in my home—it’s like holding a piece of her.

The thought makes me feel like a fool.

Shoving the bag aside, I grab my keys and head back out the door.I need to clear my head, and there’s only one place I can do that.

***

Earl’sworkshopsmellslikesawdust and varnish, the scent hitting me the moment I step inside.The old man is hunched over his workbench, a pair of goggles perched on his head as he sands the edge of a wooden rocking chair.

“Took you long enough,” Earl says without looking up, his gruff voice cutting through the quiet hum of the sander.

“I didn’t realize I was on a schedule,” I reply, shutting the door behind me.

Earl snorts, setting the sander down and pulling off the goggles.He’s been running this woodshop for as long as I’ve been alive, and he’s the only person in Maplewood Grove who knows what I am.He’s also the only person who doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re always on a schedule, kid,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag.“Problem is, it’s the wrong one.”

I cross the room, picking up a piece of sandpaper and running it over the edge of a half-finished table.“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Earl leans back against the workbench, crossing his arms over his chest.His eyes—sharp and knowing—narrow as they fix on me.

“It means you’re wasting your time pretending you don’t care about that girl.”

My hand stills, the sandpaper slipping slightly.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull,” Earl says, his voice flat.“You’ve been mooning over her for months now.Buying all that honey you don’t need.Watching her from the woods like some lovesick fool.You think I don’t notice?”

I grit my teeth, the muscles in my jaw tightening.“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple,” Earl counters, pushing off the workbench and stepping closer.“You can’t keep buying honey and pretending that’s all you want.”

His words hit too close to home, and I toss the sandpaper onto the table.“What do you want me to do, Earl?”I snap, my voice harsher than I intend.“Tell her the truth?That I’m not just some guy who lives in the woods—that I’m a goddamn bear shifter?You think she’d stick around after that?”

Earl doesn’t flinch, his expression calm and steady.“I think you’re not giving her enough credit.”

I laugh bitterly, shaking my head.“You don’t get it.She’s human.Normal.She deserves someone who can give her a normal life.Not…this.”

I gesture to myself, the frustration boiling over.

Earl watches me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable.“You’re scared,” he says finally, his tone softer now.

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die in my throat.Because he’s right.

I’m scared as hell.

Scared of what she’ll think if she finds out the truth.Scared of losing her before I even have her.Scared of what it’ll mean if I let myself want her the way my bear does.

---