Page 23 of Hero Mine

He nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. Seeing Joy like this was a shock to the entire community.

He didn’t wait long until he followed her, pushing through the kitchen door and moving farther into the break room, his chest tight with frustration and fear.

Joy sat on the worn-out couch against the back wall, her elbows on her knees, her fingers tangled in her hair. Her breaths were still uneven, her whole body trembling like she was barely holding herself together.

Hudson followed Bear in, his jaw tight. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re done for the night.”

Joy’s head snapped up. “No, I’m?—”

“Yeah, you are.” Hudson’s voice was firm, no room for argument. “You’re going home. And you’re taking tomorrow off too.”

Her lips parted, eyes flashing with something between anger and desperation. “Hudson, I?—”

“I get it,” Hudson interrupted, softer this time. “That guy was out of line. He shouldn’t have touched you at all. But I can’t have you freaking out in the middle of the bar, Joy.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Go home. Get some rest.”

Joy looked down at her hands, her jaw locked so tight Bear thought she might crack a tooth. She was still shaking, though whether from adrenaline or exhaustion or both, he couldn’t tell.

Finally, she exhaled sharply and nodded once. “Fine.”

Hudson studied her for a second longer, then gave Bear a look before pushing off the wall and walking out of the room without another word.

Bear didn’t move. Neither did Joy. The silence stretched, weighty between them. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t have to. A fan hummed quietly above, the sound magnified in the empty break room. From outside, muffled conversation and the clink of glasses formed a jarring contrast to the heaviness in here.

He grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door, having placed it there out of habit when he’d arrived, even though he wasn’t working. He shrugged it on as he turned to face her. “I’ll walk you home.”

Joy’s head snapped up, eyes flashing with something sharp and volatile. “No.”

He ignored that. “It’s late.”

“I said no, Bear.” She shot to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “Just…leave me alone.”

Bear held his ground, keeping his voice steady. “Not happening.”

Her breath hitched, and he saw the crack in her armor. The fear. The exhaustion. But then she slammed the walls back up, her entire body rigid with anger.

“This isn’t about you!” she snapped. “You don’t get to hover over me like I’m some charity case you need to fix.”

His stomach clenched, but he didn’t let it show. “That’s not what this is.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Then what is it, Bear? Because I sure as hell didn’t ask for your help.”

The words hit harder than he expected, but he kept his expression neutral. What could he say? That seeing her this way was tearing him apart? That every time she flinched at a loud noise or jumped when someone approached her too quickly, he felt it like a physical blow?

She grabbed her own coat and shoved past him before he could answer, storming out the back door.

Bear clenched his jaw, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from punching the wall.

Then he followed her at a distance. She was pissed and he’d allow her her breakdown, but he wasn’t letting her walk home alone.

The November air bit through his jacket as he stepped outside, frost already forming on the edges of the sidewalk. Oak Creek got damn cold this time of year, and tonight was no exception. Above, stars scattered across the inky blackness, cold and distant.

He watched Joy disappear down the darkened street, her pace clipped, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like she was trying to hold something in.

She didn’t look back. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t care that she’d just torn into him like he was the enemy. She was like that all the way to her house.

His jaw clenched as he shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, exhaling slowly. He didn’t regret making sure she got home safe—even if she didn’t want him to.

As she went into her house, he turned toward his own place, thankful he only lived a few blocks away, over his garage. The streets of Oak Creek were mostly empty, only a few lights glowing from the homes and businesses along Main Street. His apartment above the garage was dark when he approached, but he didn’t bother turning on the porch light as he climbed the stairs.

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