Page 33 of Befriending the Bear
“You c-can t-take down that limb?”
Fraser nodded. “I’ve got the equipment in my shed. Chainsaw, ropes, all of it. Did plenty of tree work in my firefighting days.”
I wanted to protest—his leg, the danger, the way he’d already done so much—but the words tangled in my throat. He must’ve seen the concern on my face because he added, “I’ll be careful. Promise.”
“O-okay. But I’m h-helping.”
“Deal.” He smiled, that warm sunrise smile that lit up the room. “But maybe we can have breakfast first?”
I made pancakes for us, and he ate a massive stack, at least twice what I managed to put away. I loved it. Cooking for someone else seemed like such a simple thing, but it meant something to me, especially when he clearly appreciated what I had made for him.
He licked his lips as he finally pushed his plate back. “Those were perfect.”
“G-glad you liked them.”
I put the leftovers in the fridge, then loaded the dishwasher. Fraser sat there, watching me as he drank his second cup of coffee.
“I need to grab my gear from my house,” he said when he’d finished his coffee. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I watched him leave with a strange reluctance, even though I knew he was coming right back. To distract myself, I surveyed the rest of the damage. The herb garden was salvageable, though waterlogged, and several rose bushes had been beaten down but would likely recover. All in all, I’d been lucky.
“Quite a collection,” I said when Fraser returned, arms full of ropes, harnesses, and a massive chainsaw.
“Never know when you’ll need to clear a tree.” He set everything down with practiced efficiency. “Or rescue a cat. Or hang Christmas lights for the entire neighborhood.”
The image of Fraser stringing lights for elderly neighbors was easy to picture. Of course he would. This man, who showed up in storms, would also be the one making sure everyone’s holidays were bright.
We worked together for the next hour, Fraser directing me with patient clarity as we rigged ropes to control the limb’s fall. He moved with careful precision despite his leg, years of experience evident in every decision. I watched the way his hands worked, strong and capable yet gentle when needed.
“Ready?” he asked, chainsaw in hand. He’d handed me a hard hat, and even though I felt ridiculous wearing it, I’d put it on. On him, it complemented the whole rugged outdoor look he had going on. On me, not so much.
I nodded, taking my position on the guide rope. The saw roared to life, and within minutes, the compromised limb was dropping exactly where Fraser had planned, missing both the house and the garden beds.
“P-perfect,” I said when the saw went quiet.
Fraser grinned, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool morning. “We make a good team.”
We.Such a simple word to carry so much possibility.
He spent another hour cutting the limb into manageable pieces, stacking wood that could be split for firewood later. Fraser insisted on doing the heavier lifting, but he let me help without making me feel useless. By the time we finished, the sun had burned through the morning clouds, the proverbial sunshine after the storm.
“Thank you,” I said as we stood surveying our work. “You d-didn’t have to?—”
“Calloway.” He turned to face me fully, and there was something in his expression that made my breath catch. “You’ve got to stop thanking me for wanting to help you. That’s what…” He paused, seeming to reconsider his words. “That’s what friends do.”
Friends. The word should have been reassuring, a safe boundary maintained. Instead, it felt like a placeholder for something neither of us was ready to name.
We stood there in my storm-scattered yard, chainsaw cooling at our feet, and I felt something shift inside me. Not healing, that would take more time than a single night and morning could provide. But maybe the beginning of healing. Maybe the first crack in the ice I’d packed around my heart.
“Calloway, everything okay?” A familiar voice calling out made me spin around.
“Sh-sheriff Frant. Y-yes. I’m fine.”
I walked over to the gate, where Auden stood, hands on his hips as he surveyed my house. “Looks like you got off without major damage.”
“J-just a tree limb. That’s it.”
“Glad to hear it. Not everyone was so lucky. This was a big one.”
