Page 51 of Bear Naked Truth
Dorian dropped his tools and jogged to meet her at the porch steps, brushing dirt off his jeans.
“Got a minute?”
Her brow creased slightly. “Yeah?”
“Come with me.”
He didn’t say more. Just reached for her free hand and walked her along the winding gravel path he’d been shaping all week.
The trees overhead rustled like they were holding their breath.
When they rounded the final curve and stepped into the clearing, he heard AUtumn’s breath halt as sudden as her feet had.
The garden spread out before her like a spell made real—rows of herbs and blooming flowers twisting around each other, wild but purposeful. Colors spilled from every corner: foxglove and feverfew, twilight-colored lavender, blush roses clinging to newly built trellises. The path wound gently to a hand-carved bench made from cedar and copper piping, nestled under the shade of the oak.
A small sign staked into the dirt read:Autumn’s Peace.
She didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Dorian’s heart thundered behind his ribs.
“I know it’s a little rough still,” he said, voice quiet. “But it’s yours. Thought maybe you could use a place that didn’t need you to fix it. That just… grew for you.”
Autumn stared at the sign, then the roses, then the gentle shimmer of the moonstone path. And then she sank to her knees.
Not like she was overwhelmed. Like she was undone.
Dorian moved to kneel beside her, panic kicking in. “Hey—hey, darlin’, you alright?”
She didn’t answer for a beat. Just let the mug slip from her fingers onto the soft grass and pressed both hands to her mouth.
When she finally looked at him, her eyes were wet.
“I’ve never had anything like this,” she whispered. “No one’s ever… made a place for me before.”
He swallowed hard. “Well. I figure it’s about time someone did.”
She reached for him suddenly—fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him close until their foreheads touched.
He didn’t kiss her. Not yet.
He let her breathe.
Let her feel.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, voice rough with emotion. “No one’s ever… done anything like this for me.”
Dorian pulled her in, anchoring her to the moment. “You don’t have to say anything. This was never about earning it.”
She closed her eyes, exhaling against his chest. “You make it hard not to believe in things.”
He smiled softly, lips brushing the top of her head. “That’s the idea.”
They stayed in the dirt, sun warm on their backs, the scent of rosemary and rose drifting through the air around them. Her hand found his, fingers twining slowly, uncertainly—but she didn’t let go.
And Dorian knew—without a doubt—that he’d keep making room for her, one root, one bloom, one breath at a time.
