Page 36 of Bear Naked Truth
Slowly, he turned back and sat down beside the tub, back against the tiled wall. “You always this stubborn?”
“It’s the only way I know how to be.”
They didn’t speak for a long time after that.
The water lapped gently around her, steam curling around the edges of the room. She leaned her head back against the rim of the tub, eyes closed, tension easing just enough for him to see the woman underneath all the armor.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she murmured eventually.
“Do what?”
“Let someone take care of me.”
“You’re doin’ fine,” he said, voice softer now. “You don’t have to get it perfect.”
She cracked one eye open. “You always say the right thing?”
“Not always. But I mean it when I say I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Autumn didn’t reply. But after a moment, she leaned just slightly toward him, her fingers brushing his.
19
AUTUMN
The bath had helped.
At least, that’s what she told herself as she toweled off, fingers trembling slightly as she wrapped the fabric tighter around her chest. The heat had soothed her wounds, loosened the stiffness in her shoulders, dulled the ache in her ribs. But the part of her that ached the most—quiet, invisible, and always running—remained untouched.
Dorian hadn’t said much. Just sat with her, patient as a stone, letting the silence stretch until it was something less sharp.
It should’ve been easy to walk away after that. To thank him, crack a joke, slip back into her room and pretend like nothing had shifted in the air between them.
But she couldn’t make herself move.
She stood in the doorway to the hall, hair damp and curling slightly at her collarbone, her oversized sweater swallowing her form again like a barrier. The shadows in the house were soft tonight, muted by the lingering warmth of candlelight and the magic Dorian carried in his presence. But her own shadows, theones clinging just behind her ribcage, refused to loosen their grip.
She heard the rustle of fabric, the creak of the couch in the sitting room. Dorian, settling in.
Of course he wasn’t going to push. That wasn’t his style.
She moved before her brain caught up to her feet.
He looked up the moment she stepped in, concern flickering in his hazel eyes but he didn’t speak. Just waited. Gave her that quiet space she was learning he excelled at holding.
“I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she flinched at how small it sounded. “I can’t go back to my room. Not tonight.”
He nodded once. “You don’t have to.”
She crossed the space slowly, bare feet whispering across the worn rug. Her body was sore in ways she wasn’t used to—tired and unraveling, her emotional walls spiderwebbed with the weight of everything she didn’t want to say. She wasn’t sure how to even ask.
Dorian stood and opened his arms and she walked straight into them.
The tears came without permission. No sobs, no dramatic breakdown—just quiet, hot streams sliding down her cheeks as he wrapped her in his arms and tucked her against his chest like she belonged there.
He didn’t shush her. Didn’t tell her it was okay. He just held her.
Autumn buried her face in his shirt, breathing in the scent of soap and something warm she couldn’t name. Her fingers clutched the fabric like it might disappear if she let go.
