Page 29 of Befriending the Bear
Calloway absorbed that, his breathing finally steady against my side. The wind howled around the house, but it seemed less threatening now.
“You came. In the storm. Your l-leg…”
“My leg’s fine.” I caught myself. Maybe it was time for honesty. “Okay, it hurts like hell. But I was too worried about you to stay home.”
He pulled back enough to look at me, and even in the dim phone light, I could see the wonder in his eyes. Like he couldn’t quite believe someone would brave a storm for him. “Thank you.”
“Always,” I said without thinking, then felt heat creep up my neck. Too much, too soon. But Calloway squeezed my hand and settled back against my shoulder.
The storm continued its assault on Forestville, but we’d created our own small shelter inside Calloway’s living room. I told him more stories—funny ones about pranks pulled in fire camp and the ongoing war between different crews over who made the best coffee. He laughed softly at the right places, his body gradually relaxing against mine.
At some point, I must’ve dozed off. I woke to find the blanket pulled over both of us, Calloway’s head heavy on my shoulder. The storm had gentled to steady rain, the violent winds moving on to terrorize other towns. My phone showed it was past one in the morning. God, I’d been here for hours.
I should leave. Should extract myself carefully and head home before this became something we’d have to acknowledge in daylight. But Calloway was sleeping peacefully for the first time since I’d arrived, and my traitorous body wanted nothing more than to stay exactly where I was.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Calloway mumbled against my shoulder.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You d-didn’t.” He sat up slowly, reluctantly, putting space between us that felt like loss. “The storm’s quieter.”
“Yeah. Worst of it’s passed, I think.”
We sat there in the darkness, neither moving to turn on the lights or create more distance.
“Fraser?” His voice was soft, uncertain.
“Yeah?”
“W-would you…?” He stopped, took a breath. “Would you st-stay? Just for tonight? The p-power’s still out, and I…” Another breath. “I don’t want to be alone.”
My heart did something complicated in my chest. “Of course. Let me grab those lanterns from my truck first, okay? Get us some proper light.”
This time he let me go, though his eyes followed me to the door. Outside, the rain had eased up a little, but the wind was still howling around the house. I grabbed my emergency kit from the truck. It contained lanterns, batteries, water, the works. Always prepared, even in retirement.
When I came back inside, Calloway had moved to the kitchen, lighting candles with shaking hands.
“Here,” I said, setting up the lanterns. “These will last all night.”
The LED light was bright and steady, pushing back the shadows. His shoulders dropped in visible relief. “Hungry? I can m-make s-sandwiches.”
I wasn’t hungry at all, but I suspected he’d skipped dinner, so he would need some food in his system. “Sounds perfect.”
Together, we made sandwiches by lantern light, moving around each other with the easy familiarity we’d developed at the book fair. It felt surreal and completely natural at the same time, like we’d been weathering storms together for years instead of hours. He had turkey, cheese, and even bacon, and combined with some lettuce and tomato he had in his fridge, we created delicious club sandwiches.
“I’m s-sorry,” he said as we ate. “About the panic attack. I know it’s not… I sh-should be over it by now.”
“Hey.” I waited until he looked at me. “Trauma doesn’t have an expiration date. You went through something terrible when you were five. Your body remembers even when your mind tries to forget.”
“Do you have them? P-panic attacks?”
I considered lying, but he’d been so vulnerable with me. “Not panic attacks, but I still have nightmares. The worst is this recurring dream of being trapped in a fire and unable to find an exit. My body thinks I’m back in that tree fall, trapped and burning.”
“How do you handle it?”
“Badly, mostly.” I smiled wryly. “But breathing helps. And telling myself every time it’s only a dream. One day, I’ll convince my subconscious.”
He nodded slowly. We finished our sandwiches in comfortable silence, the lantern light creating a circle of warmth in the cold kitchen.
