Page 27 of The Bear's Christmas Wish
He moved to the stove and added another log, watching the flames lick at the fresh wood. Heat radiated outward, warming his face as he crouched there, giving himself a moment to regain his composure.
“Is this where you come during storms?” Sarah asked from behind him.
Michael nodded, rising to his feet. “It’s where we shelter when the weather turns. I built it with my dad when I was a teen.” He glanced around the simple space, seeing it through her eyes. “Not much, but it’s sturdy.”
“I like it,” she said, setting down her mug. “It feels...honest.”
The word struck him as perfect. This hut was honest—no pretense, just function and comfort stripped down to essentials.
Like you,his bear added.
Thanks, I think,Michael replied.
A comfortable silence settled between them as the fire crackled. Outside, the wind howled against the windows, but in here, they were cocooned in warmth and flickering light.
“Would you mind if I sat closer to the fire?” Sarah asked, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m still a bit chilled.”
“Of course,” Michael said. He grabbed an old wool blanket from the storage trunk and laid it on the floor near the stove. “This spot gets the best heat.”
Sarah slid from her chair to the blanket, tucking her legs beneath her. Michael hesitated, not wanting to crowd her.
“There’s room for two,” she said, patting the space beside her.
His bear practically purred as Michael settled a respectful distance away, close enough to feel her warmth but not so close that their shoulders touched.
“May I ask you something?” Sarah said, her face half-illuminated by the firelight.
“Anything,” Michael replied, meaning it more than she could know.
“How do you do it? Live so...contentedly out here by yourself?” She gestured vaguely at the window. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”
The question hit closer to home than she realized. Michael considered his answer carefully, watching the flames dance behind the glass door of the stove.
“I’m not exactly alone,” he said. “I have the town, family, friends, the farm.” His bear stirred at the half-truth. “But yes,sometimes it gets quiet. Too quiet.” He paused, then admitted, “Especially at Christmas. Despite all the hustle and bustle of people coming to choose Christmas trees, when they’re gone, and it’s just me...”
Sarah nodded, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Emmy fills that space for me. But after she’s asleep...” She trailed off, not needing to finish.
“That’s when the house feels too quiet,” Michael completed the thought.
“Exactly.” She looked at him with surprise, as if he’d read her mind.
Their gazes held for a heartbeat longer than was comfortable. Michael cleared his throat and reached for the mugs.
“More coffee?” he offered.
“Please.”
As he refilled their cups, he noticed her shiver slightly despite the fire’s warmth.
“Still cold?” he asked.
“A bit,” she admitted. “My feet never really warmed up.”
Michael set the mugs down and moved to the trunk again. “I’ve got extra socks. Clean ones,” he added with a small smile.
She laughed, and he cracked a wide grin, liking the sound. “Extra socks would be amazing.”
He handed her a pair of thick wool socks, watching as she pulled them over her own. They were comically large on her, and something about the sight of her feet swimming in his socks made his bear rumble with satisfaction.
