Page 55 of The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate
Vince stood on her porch, designer sunglasses perched on his perfectly styled hair, wearing that practiced look of regret she’d seen on magazine covers and in carefully staged paparazzi photos. His crisp white button-down and tailored jeans looked absurdly out of place against the backdrop of wildflowers and weathered wood.
Her stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step in the dark. Her joyful bubble burst.
“Wren.” His voice was exactly as she remembered, smooth and practiced, with that hint of a drawl he’d cultivated for authenticity. “You look good.”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Her fingers tightened on the doorframe, knuckles going white.
“Can I come in?” He didn’t wait for an answer, already shifting his weight forward.
Wren found her voice. “What are you doing here?” The words came out smaller than she’d intended, as she tried to recover from the shock of him being here.
“I had to see you.” He removed his sunglasses with a deliberate motion she recognized from a thousand interviews. “Look, I know I messed up. The thing with Melody didn’t mean anything. It was stupid, and I’ve been paying for it every day since.”
The familiar script made her skin crawl. She could almost predict his next words before he spoke them.
“We were magic together, Wren.” He stepped closer, and she caught the scent of his cologne, too sharp, too manufactured compared to Finn’s natural warmth. “The label’s going crazy without you. The fans miss you. I miss you.”
His eyes roamed over the cottage behind her, his mouth twisting in a barely concealed smirk. “This little...retreat...was good for you, I’m sure. Very quaint. But it’s time to come back to the real world. To where you belong.”
Old wounds stirred inside her, phantom pains from scars she’d thought were healing. For a moment, she felt herself shrinking, becoming the woman who’d fled to Bear Creek with her confidence in tatters.
Then she thought of Finn. Of his gentle hands and honest eyes. Of how he’d shown her his truest self, trusted her with his secret, claimed her as his mate, and given her joy. She thought of the community that had welcomed her, of Mrs. Abernathy’s fierce protectiveness, of the Thornberg family’s immediate acceptance.
She had found her place here. Found her people. And her person…Finn. There was no way she was going to let Vince take any of that away from her.
“No, Vince.” Her voice was steady now, stronger. “You don’t get to rewrite the past. What happened between us wasn’t just one mistake. It was years of you putting yourself first, of using my songs, my pain, my life for publicity. I’ve found my place here. And my person. I don’t want you here.”
His expression hardened, the practiced regret giving way to something colder. “Your person? You mean that…what is he,agardener? Come on, Wren. You’re bigger than this small town. We were great together. Let’s try again.”
He stepped forward again, one foot over the threshold. “The label’s offering a new contract. Double what you made before. We could co-headline a tour…”
“No.” Wren placed her palm against his chest, physically stopping his advance. “I need you to leave.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His voice took on an edge she remembered too well. The one that preceded his temper. “You can’t seriously preferthis…” he gestured dismissively at the cottage “…to what we had. To what I’m offering you.”
“I do.” She stood straighter, blocking the doorway with her body. Her voice shook slightly, but it did not break. “You need to leave. Please don’t come back.”
Vince’s face darkened. He grabbed for the door, trying to push it wider. “Wren, you’re not thinking clearly…”
“My thoughts have never been clearer.” She shoved back, surprising herself with her strength. “Go. Now.”
For a moment, they stared at each other, the air between them charged with years of history and hurt. Then Vince stepped back, his expression shifting to something calculated.
“Fine. Have it your way. Play house in this backwater town.” His smile was sharp-edged. “But when you’re ready to rejoin the real world, don’t expect the same offer to be waiting.”
Wren closed the door firmly in his face, turning the deadbolt with a decisive click. She leaned back against it, heart pounding wildly in her chest, listening to his footsteps recede across the porch, followed by the slam of a car door and the growl of an engine.
She slid down to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest. “I chose myself,” she whispered into the quiet cottage. “I chose Finn.”
Pride bloomed in her heart. She had stood her ground. The Wren, who’d arrived in Bear Creek months ago, would have wavered, maybe even let Vince in, let him talk her around with promises she knew he wouldn’t keep.
Her phone buzzed from where she’d left it on the coffee table. Wren pushed herself up on shaky legs and crossed the room toretrieve it. A notification from the Bear Creek community page lit up the screen.
Her blood turned to ice as she opened the post. Someone had snapped a photo of Vince on her porch, his hand on her arm in what looked like an intimate gesture. The caption underneath was deliberately provocative: “Reunited! Are they back together?”
Panic clawed at her chest, sharp and immediate. Finn. He would see this. He would think…
She tapped his name in her contacts, her fingers trembling so badly she had to try twice. The call went straight to voicemail. Of course. He was still at his appointment with Mrs. Henderson, probably with his phone silenced.
