Page 2 of A Beary Merry Christmas

I wanted to be angry, a part of me was, but the greater part of me was merely disappointed and concerned. Stone had been nothing but consistent. And, thinking back over our conversation the other night, he did sound a little different, as if his nose was stuffed. I assumed it was the connection, as he lived in a town that didn’t have the best call reception.

Bending, I jerked my socks on. Squatting in front of my closet, I blindly felt for my fuzzy bunny slippers. They were the last present my grandmother ever gave me.

My heart seized, a few tears breaking free, as the familiar fabric brushed my fingers. She’d always said that the right man would still make me cry; the difference was, he would apologize and try to make up for it. Every time I’d come home from a bad date, she was right there with a cup of hot cocoa, even in the middle of summer. Chocolate, warmth, and a hug were what I’d get right now if she were still here. It was moments like these that I missed her the most.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, barely containing my sob, I straightened, dropping the slippers on the floor. Sliding my feet into the worn pink material, I closed my closet and headed back to the common area.

Spotting my phone on the sofa, I made a beeline for the kitchen. In a matter of minutes, I had a steaming cup of cocoa, topped with marshmallows, whipped cream and sugar sprinkles, and a bag of microwave popcorn.

Meandering to the couch, I set the items down on the coffee table to focus on mastering a reply. I re-read his words several times, fresh emotions hitting me with each round. I refused to tell him it was okay, because it wasn’t. He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to drop that bomb, and I had every right to react the way I want to it. I was sitting in my living room with a face full of make-up, volumizing conditioning spray in my hair, and the modern equivalent of a t-shirt and sweats because of him.

If it weren’t for my mascara being waterproof, I would seriously look like a hot mess. Nonetheless, I still felt like one. I felt like a lot of things right now, and, sadly, it wasn’t the first time. But it was the hardest time, because it was the most unexpected. How did I miss it? How had I gotten so caught up in him so easily?

After more than a few minutes of mulling, I sent a quick, ‘I hope you feel better soon.’

Glimpsing at the time, I blew out a cleansing breath. My best friend, Sharon, wouldn’t be out of work until ten. She worked in a call center about fifteen minutes from my apartment. We’d spent countless nights consuming stuff we shouldn’t and daydreaming of the day we found men who were worthy of forever. The piece that made me feel ridiculous, like a naïve fool, was that I thought I’d found him. I even said as much to her a few weeks ago. How quickly things could change.

I wanted to believe that he was actually sick. I wanted to believe that he would message me again. But the last guy who said that never spoke to me again, out of nowhere. I really did think Stone was different, but, then again, I also never thought he’d cancel on me at the last minute. There was nothing I could do about either, though.

Picking up the television remote, I tuned into the Hallmark Channel for a marathon of cheesy holiday-themed romantic comedies, only until my best friend could come console me with stories about the wedding day I was beginning to think would never happen, though.

Chapter Two

December 18th

Stone

“Come on, Doc. There’s gotta be something more you can do for me.” My throat felt like it was on fire. My head had been throbbing for days thanks to the pressure in my nose. I felt like I was slowly suffocating to death.

She glanced sidelong at me, continued to type notes on her iPad. Focusing on the screen for a few more moments, she came to a stop and faced me. “Listen, honey pie, you’re a bear, not an anomaly. And I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker. I’ve already doubled the normal were dosage because of your mass. Now you just need to follow the directions, rest, and let you and your animal recover.”

I knew I wasn’t thinking straight when I had the fucked up urge to throw a tantrum, as if it would help any. “But I have a date.” Damn. That sounded pathetic and whiny even to my own ears.

“I’ll write you an excuse.” She smirked, her eyes glittering, much the way Lora’s did in her pictures.

Dammit. The paper crinkled beneath my ass on the table as I shifted uncomfortably. Desperation rose up inside me, stirring my beast. Not every paranormal creature had a perfect mate. I’d been on this earth for thirty-five years and had yet to scent mine. I refused to settle with a woman who didn’t make me happy. If I couldn’t have my perfect mate, then I at least wanted happiness. And I hadn’t stopped smiling since I started talking to the extra curvy beauty. There was something about her. She had sass and spark, yet was easy-going and compassionate.

And I was about to crush her. I’d dragged my ass for months, waiting for some imperfection to reveal itself, the way it did with every woman before her. But she wasn’t every woman before her. She wasn’t a lot of things, and that made me appreciate her all the more.

And feel all the shittier for getting sick now. Fuck! I didn’t want to disappoint her. “Please, Doc. Come on. You’ve got a grown bear begging you here.” My lungs seized, sending me into a coughing fit. Dammit.

She shifted her weight, throwing one wide hip further outwards. “I see plenty of needy bears all day, Stone; your pleas won’t have a magical elixir appearing out of nowhere.” She stepped closer, resting a hand atop my forearm. “If she’s the right woman for you, she’ll be there when you’re well again. And if you think she’s the right woman for you, then your protective instincts will ensure you keep your distance, unless you want this cold to be her Christmas gift from you.”

Shit. Check mate.

Blowing out a heavy breath, I officially surrendered. “Fine. You win.”

She grew pensive, dropping her gaze for a moment. “Unfortunately, there’s no winning in my profession. I’m only delaying the inevitable.” Before I could process what she’d said, the sadness in her voice, she spun on her heels. “No exercising for a week. I’m sending your prescription electronically to the pharmacy; fill them as soon as you leave here. Drink lots of fluids; get lots of rest, and” -she turned to look at me, her hand on the doorknob- “no exercising. Don’t think I won’t have Jake and the other guys ride your ass out there.” She gave me a sugary sweet smile. “Feel better, honey pie.” She winked, leaving me to stew over my predicament.

Dammit. Of all the times to get sick. It’d been years since my last cold.

Hopping down off of the table, I winced, my body rebelling against the motion. Whipping out my phone, I rolled my muscles, trying to ignore the soreness dominating every limb. I hadn’t been strong enough to shift in several days, and my usually ornery bear had been unusually quiet and subdued. Checking the time on my phone, I quickly calculated how much time I had before I was supposed to meet her. If I hurried, I could get a dose or two in my system, let it do its thing, and see her tonight still.

Scrolling through my phone, I found her pictures. Since I started talking to her, all other women ceased to interest me. There was something about the extra curvy brunette. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something special about her. And, after getting to know her these past few months, I was thinking about a long-term relationship with her.

If I could get my ass well enough to meet her and not feel like I was risking her health to do so.

The doc was right. This damned cold was the last present I wanted to give her for Christmas.

---