Page 28 of Hero Mine

Bear exhaled through his nose. “I went inside, looking for you.”

Her entire face drained of color. Shit.

“You—” Her throat bobbed. “You went in the house?”

“I did.” He let the words settle. Let her process. “I remembered the key being near the side door.”

She didn’t speak. Just stood there, gripping the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

He couldn’t do this gently. Not anymore.

“Joy.” His voice was firm but quiet. “How long have you been sleeping out here?”

Her fingers tightened on the doorframe, her whole body stiff like she was bracing for a blow. She didn’t answer right away, her throat working like she was swallowing back the truth.

He wasn’t about to let her choke on it.

“How long, Joy?” His voice was low but unyielding, pressing in on her like the cold. Like he wasn’t letting this go. Because he wasn’t.

If he had known this was happening, he would’ve been here much, much sooner.

She wet her lips, gaze flicking somewhere past his shoulder, focusing on the dark silhouettes of trees at the edge of her property. “Since…since that night.”

Bear went still, the words hitting him like a physical blow. The words settled deep, a slow burn of realization that turned into something heavier. A whole damn month. Since the attack. Since the Kozak brothers had broken in, beaten her, taken Sloane.

Jesus Christ.

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, trying to process what she was telling him. She’d been out here in the November cold, sleeping in a child’s playhouse, for weeks.

“Bug—”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Her voice sharpened, defensive now, a glimpse of the old Joy flaring up. “That I’m being ridiculous. That I should just get over it.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking.”

She huffed, shaking her head, but her hands trembled where she still gripped the door.

He could push. Wanted to push. But there was a fragility in the way she stood there, like she was strung together by a thread and he was holding the scissors.

Instead, he nodded toward the inside of the tiny space. “Let me see.”

Her eyes snapped back to his. “What?”

“Let me see where you’ve been staying.”

She hesitated, conflict written across her face. Then, slowly, she stepped back.

He didn’t know what he expected. But it wasn’t this.

The playhouse was immaculate. The small cot in the corner was neatly made, the blanket tucked tight. A small battery-powered lamp glowed on the ground, casting warm light across the child-sized space. A book sat open, spine cracked from repeated reading. A single mug rested on the table in the corner. A tiny stack of clean clothes was folded on a chair.

The contrast of this neat space to the disaster inside her house was a punch to the gut. She hadn’t just been staying out here. This was home. This was where she felt safe.

Bear turned back to her, his voice steady but edged. “This has to stop, Joy.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers gripping her sleeves like they were the only things holding her together. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, her whole body drawn tight, her breath barely visible in the freezing air.

He forced himself to stay calm, to push down the frustration burning in his chest. He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at the situation, at the fact that she’d been out here for a damn month and no one had known. Thathehadn’t known.

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