Page 39 of Bear Naked Truth
Not yet.
But when she was ready, when she finally let herself rest, really rest, he wanted her to have something real. Something lasting. Something she could see and feel andknow—not as an obligation, not as a symbol—but as proof.
That he’d been waiting.
That she had a place to land.
“You take all the time you need, darlin’,” he whispered to the wind, his thumb tracing over the finished carving, slow and reverent. “I’ll be right here.”
He finished his coffee, picked up his tools, and sanded the edges of her name until it was smooth enough for her to lean back against without even noticing.
A quiet promise.
And the most honest thing he’d ever carved.
21
AUTUMN
The Spellbound Sip was unusually quiet for a Thursday morning.
Most days, it hummed with quiet magic and soft clinking mugs. Laughter. Flirtation. Whispers that curled into the rafters and stuck to the enchanted teacups like dust on old parchment.
But today, the quiet feltintentional.
Autumn stepped through the door and immediately smelled cardamom, sage, and something a little like citrus and memory. She tugged her knit sweater closer around herself, brushing damp curls off her forehead as she moved toward the bar, boots echoing faintly on the stone floor.
Nerissa, the siren-barista, was behind the counter as usual—long blue-black braid draped over her shoulder, and that serene, sea-glass expression she always wore like it had been stitched into her skin by moonlight itself. She didn’t say anything, just looked up with a knowing smile.
“I need something honest,” Autumn muttered.
Nerissa raised a perfectly shaped brow. “Oof. Dangerous request in this place.”
“I can handle it.”
The siren tilted her head slightly, then reached for one of the ceramic mugs hanging from a copper rack overhead. This one was pale green with faint swirling glyphs etched into the glaze.
“Truth-teller’s brew,” she said as she poured. “Cinnamon for warmth. Mint for clarity. Marigold to reveal what’s buried.”
Autumn stared at the mug for a second too long, then nodded and took it.
She didn’t sip yet. Not yet. She turned and walked toward the back, to Nico’s usual booth—half-hidden by a curtain of enchanted vines that occasionally bloomed if the gossip got juicy enough.
They were already there, of course.
Nico Voss alwaysknewthings. Not in a nosy way, more like the universe whispered the good stuff in their ear just for fun. Today, they wore a velvet blazer over a T-shirt that readHexually Active,a cluster of charms dangling from one wrist, and a mischievous glint in their eyes that said they were already brimming with unspoken questions.
“Well, well,” Nico purred, folding their hands under their chin. “If it isn’t the ghost-wrangling goddess herself. And is that a truth-teller mug I see?”
Autumn sat across from them, wrapping both hands around the warmth. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, honey. I haven’t evenopenedthe bottle yet.”
She sighed, staring down at the tea as it steeped. “Can I just… talk? Without being roasted?”
They blinked dramatically. “That’s a bold ask, but fine. I’ll only lightly sear.”
She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of the tea.
