Page 45 of Bear Naked Truth
It wasn’t just coincidence the spirit had targeted them.
He thought it was history trying to repeat itself.
Autumn’s stomach turned. She felt it then, behind her—a shadow shifting, just barely.
She didn’t move.
“Hollis,” she whispered into the stillness, “I know your name now.”
The attic didn’t respond. But somethinglistened.
“I know what they did. And I know you’ve been trying to keep it from happening again.”
The lantern flickered once, then steadied.
“I’m not them,” she said, louder this time. “And Dorian isn’t Theodore.”
Still nothing. But the pressure eased.
She traced the edge of the page with her glove. The ink no longer shimmered—it stayed still, flat, like it had finally settled into truth.
The Hollow Man wasn’t trying to keep people out of the inn. He was trying to protect what had once been love. Fated. Sacred.
And somewhere in the bitterness of betrayal, he’d turned it into a weapon.
“Dorian,” she breathed, heart suddenly pounding.
It was why the spirit targetedthem.Why it had scratched her. Why it had left everyone else alone.
He wasn’t punishing her. He waswarningher.
Autumn slammed the book shut, grabbed the lantern, and bolted down the attic stairs two at a time, her breath coming in harsh bursts.
She needed to find Dorian. She needed totellhim.
But more than that, more than the haunted history and twisted love story—they needed to face the truth together.
Because if fate was still listening…
They had one last chance to make it right.
24
DORIAN
The wind shifted sometime near sunset.
It curled down off the ridge in a way that tugged at Dorian’s instincts, brushing against his skin like a whispered suggestion. Change was coming. Not the kind that made folks pack up and move, but the kind that made you stop and look at what was right in front of you. Real, fragile, and worth fighting for.
He stood on the porch of the inn, hand resting on the railing just above where he’d carved his initials when the deed was turned over to him, thumb smoothing over the familiar groove out of habit. The scent of pine and woodsmoke drifted on the breeze, grounding him. But his thoughts were tangled in the woman inside.
Autumn had been quiet since her attic discovery. Not distant, just… focused. There was something in her eyes that said she knew more now than she ever wanted to. Something that had cracked her open.
He’d seen it. Felt it.
And he knew, bone-deep, that she needed a moment—just one—where none of it had to matter.
So he made a decision.
