Page 14 of The Bear's Second Chance Mate
She set the bowls on the table, then leaned on the counter, her hand resting beside her barely touched glass of spritzer. The faint sound of the shower starting upstairs gave her a moment to breathe, but her chest still felt tight.
Shifters.
Mates.
Barb’s words looped through her head like an out-of-tune radio.
She heard the quiet pad of socked feet returning, and a moment later, Oli came back into the kitchen, hands damp from washing. He slid into his seat and picked up his spoon but didn’t start eating. His sketchpad was tucked under one arm.
“Mom?” he mumbled.
She turned. “Yes, love?”
“Do you think Herbert is okay?”
June managed a small smile and sat down beside him. “Stanley said he’d look after him, sweetheart. And we’re going to visit on Tuesday, remember?”
“I remember.” Oli’s shoulders lifted slightly. “Stanley said I could meet Clive. That’s the dragon.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a dragon,” June said, and then the voice in her head immediately added—if shifters are real, are dragons real, too?
“He said Clive eats crickets and has a sun lamp.” Oli turned to her, eyes wide with a question that went beyond reptiles. “He really meant it, didn’t he?”
June reached across the table and touched her son’s hand. “Yes. I think he did.”
Oli nodded slowly, then picked up his spoon and began eating. He didn’t say another word, but the corners of his mouth had softened into something close to calm.
June watched him for a moment, then picked up her own spoon and took a small bite of soup. The taste was wonderful, warm, familiar, but it did little to settle her swirling emotions.
Her thoughts wandered back to Stanley. The way he’d crouched beside her son, making sure he was at eye level. The way he’d looked at June...
There’d been something between them, hadn’t there? A thread of connection that had hummed just beneath the surface. Solid. Unspoken. But real.
She took another spoonful, slower this time.
Then Barb’s words echoed in her head.If he were your mate, he’d have known. And he would’ve acted.
June’s hand tightened around her spoon.
She needed to let go of any romantic notions. Whatever she’d felt, whatever flicker of warmth or hope had taken root, was hers alone.
Stanley had just been friendly.
Protective. That’s what Barb had called the shifters in Bear Creek.
And maybe that was all it had been. Maybe Stanley had sensed Oli’s needs and responded with kindness. As a good man. A decent man. A friend.
And she would take that.
Because for June, friends were rare, and kindness rarer still.
Across the table, Oli sipped his soup quietly, his features peaceful in a way they hadn’t been in weeks.
And that mattered more than anything.
June looked down at her bowl, the steam rising in gentle curls.
Tuesday would come soon enough.
