Page 14 of Bear Naked Truth
They stayed like that with their hands linked, drinks barely touched as the café hummed around them. Other tables filled.Laughter bubbled. But in that booth, beneath the twinkle lights and slow jazz, something sacred settled between them.
It wasn’t a declaration. It wasn’t a promise.
But it was enough to make Dorian think maybe he wasn’t going to have to play pretend for long.
7
AUTUMN
The walk back to Briar Hollow was quiet, save for the crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the gentle rustle of wind through the trees. Autumn kept her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of her charm like it was a lifeline.
Dorian strolled beside her, quiet but steady, radiating heat like a walking hearth. She could feel it even from inches away—comforting, constant. It tugged at something deep in her bones. Something she didn’t want to name. All she knew was that she was in trouble.
Not the ghost kind or the hexed-mirror, cursed-bathroom, spirit-tries-to-yeet-you-across-the-room kind of trouble. This was worse. Something she had no idea how to handle.
This was emotional.
That damn dinner at The Spellbound Sip had cracked something open. She could still feel the brush of his fingers over hers, the way her magic had reached out on its own and wrapped around him like ivy finding its favorite tree. And she’d let it.
Hell, she’dwantedit.
That was the problem.
Dorian didn’t talk much on the way back, which should’ve soothed her. But it didn’t. Not when his silence felt less like absence and more like… patience.
Hewasn’tpretending. Not anymore. But had he even really tried?
Autumn didn’t know what to do with that.
By the time they stepped onto the creaking porch of the inn, her nerves were stretched tight as ghost wire. She paused, one hand on the railing, staring at the warped front door like it might swallow her whole.
“You okay?” Dorian asked, voice soft.
She nodded. A lie.
He opened the door, held it for her. She slipped inside, the warmth of the house curling around her like breath. The air carried traces of honeysuckle and something older, more aching. The spirits were stirring again. Watching. Always watching.
Autumn dropped her bag by the entryway and turned to head upstairs, needing space and air.
His hand brushed her arm. She flinched.
Not violently. Not enough to call attention. But it was a reflex, fast and instinctive. And it stopped him cold.
Dorian’s hand fell away instantly.
“Sorry,” he said, already taking a step back. “Didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine,” she snapped, sharper than she meant. “You didn’t… it’s not you.”
But the look in his eyes that had turned from warm fading to guarded told her she’d already hit a nerve.
“Autumn—”
“I’m tired,” she cut in. “It’s been a long day.”
He nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.”
She turned, climbed the stairs two at a time, shut the door behind her before the guilt could sink in fully.
