Chapter 7
Beau
The bell above the door chimed, but something in it made my head snap up like a predator on alert. It was Sean.
He stepped back into the bakery, the cold still clinging to his cheeks and collar.
His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, and his eyes scanned the shop like he wasn’t just looking for someone, but checking if it was safe to exhale.
My heart gave this stupid hopeful kick in my chest, until I saw the way his expression faltered when our eyes met. Like he wasn’t sure if I’d be glad to see him… or if I’d already heard.
I wasn’t planning on confronting him. Not because I didn’t want to, but because the thought of scaring him, of making him feel cornered, churned my stomach.
He was skittish enough already, looking over his shoulder half the time like he expected his past to come clawing through the door. So I tried something different.
I walked around the counter slowly, towel still in hand, and met him halfway. His steps faltered slightly when he saw I was coming toward him.
“Hey,” I said, voice low. “You alright?”
Sean blinked like I’d surprised him just by asking.
“Yeah,” he said too fast. “Just… needed air. Long day.”
“Mm.” I nodded, letting the moment stretch between us before I said, “Rafael mentioned someone stopped by.”
He stiffened. Just a flicker, but I felt it like a jolt.
A heartbeat of silence passed before he said, “Some guy? I didn’t really see him. Maybe he was just mistaken.”
His voice was too calm. Too smooth. And it killed me, because I could tell he was lying. Just like I could tell he was scared.
Something in me surged. A guttural, protective growl I had to choke back before it reached my throat.
My bear hated this, hated the idea of someone sniffing around Sean’s trail, stirring up whatever pain had driven him here in the first place.
But worse than that… was the flicker of fear in Sean’s eyes when he saw the change in my face.
He was bracing for it. Like he thought I’d blow up. Like he thought I’d be mad. And that stung. Because I never wanted to be someone he feared.
So I breathed deep, forced my shoulders loose, and softened my tone.
“Okay,” I said gently. “If that’s what you say… then I’ll take your word for it. For now.”
His eyes widened slightly. Like he didn’t expect that answer. Like I’d just pulled the floor out from under him and offered a soft landing instead.
“You will?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“I told you,” I said, voice steady. “I’d wait.”
His lips parted, like he didn’t know what to say to that. Like no one had ever said that to him before.
We stood there in the middle of the bakery, cinnamon and cardamom in the air between us.
I swear, the entire world felt like it narrowed to that one, taut line of silence stretching between his heart and mine. Then his shoulders shifted, something loosening in his chest.
And, softer now, he said, “Are you still up for that coffee?”
I swear I forgot how to breathe for half a second. I smiled, slow and warm, real in a way I hadn’t felt in days.
“Of course I am,” I said. “Been looking forward to it.”
His smile came a second later. It was shy, unsure, but there. And it hit me like sunlight through storm clouds.
He didn’t say anything else. Neither did I. We just stood there, the shop quiet around us, the hum of the ovens in the background, and something unspoken settling in between us like a promise.
Sean turned to head into the kitchen, but just before he disappeared through the swinging door, he glanced back. Our eyes met again. This time, he didn’t look afraid.
Whatever Sean was running from, whoever that man was, Sean came back. He chose to stay.
I stared at my closet like it had personally offended me. Shirts. Too many shirts. Too many colors. Nothing looked right. Everything suddenly felt wrong.
“This is stupid,” I muttered, pulling off the forest green button-down I’d just tried on and tossing it onto the growing pile on my bed. “It’s just coffee.”
But it wasn’t just coffee. Not when Sean had said, “I’m ready now,” and looked at me like I was worth risking everything for. That kind of look messed with a guy. Got under the skin.
So yeah. I wanted to look good. After trying on a third shirt, running both hands through my hair in frustration, and swearing under my breath, I finally did the one thing I swore I wouldn't.
I called Rafael. He picked up on the second ring, looking way too smug already.
“You’re calling me before the date? What, you need a pep talk?” Rafael asked.
I turned the camera around to show the battlefield that was my bed. “I need help.”
There was a long beat of silence. Then he burst out laughing. Loud, unfiltered, full-on belly laughing.
I scowled. “I’m serious.”
Rafael wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh my god. Beau, you’re acting like this is a second-chance prom night.”
“Rafael.”
“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up a hand and getting serious fast. “You want lowkey hot or effortless soft?”
I blinked. “…Those are real categories?”
“Trust me,” he said.
Twenty minutes and three outfit switches later, I settled on a soft black buttoned-up shirt and dark jeans with my old leather jacket thrown over top. Not too try-hard. Still me.
“You’re welcome,” Rafael said, smug again.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, though I meant it.
“Now go get him, you grizzly bastard.”
I rolled my eyes, ended the call, and headed out before I could lose my nerve. The moment I saw Sean waiting outside the café, my nerves took on a different shape.
Because he looked nervous, too. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, bouncing slightly on his heels.
His curls looked soft in the afternoon light, wind-tousled, and his lips quirked when he spotted me.
“You’re late,” he said.
“You’re early,” I replied, matching his grin. “Couldn’t wait to see me?”
He rolled his eyes, but his cheeks flushed. “Let’s just get inside.”
The café was warm and smelled like burnt sugar and hazelnut. We found a small table by the window. Sean ordered something fancy with oat milk and cinnamon; I stuck to black coffee.
Still, I couldn’t stop staring at him while we waited. At the way his fingers curled around the cup, the flick of his lashes when he laughed, the tiny nick on his jaw I hadn't noticed before.
We talked about small things first. His culinary school horror stories, my failed first attempt at sourdough, and then the cat incident.
“I still can’t believe Cass shimmied up a tree,” Sean said, grinning wide.
That got a laugh out of me, loud and real.
“The old lady brought him a pie as thanks. A whole cherry pie, which he didn’t share with the rest of us,” I said.
“He deserved it,” Sean said with mock seriousness. “He risked his life for a kitty.”
I was just about to take a sip of coffee when Sean went quiet. He fidgeted, glanced down at his cup, then looked up again.
“Hey, um… can I ask you something?”
I tensed. It was just a flicker, but Sean noticed. His shoulders drew in.
“Rafael mentioned your monthly visit to the doctor,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. If it’s personal, you don’t have to say anything. I’ll drop it.”
At first, my gut twisted. You didn’t tell me about the guy asking for you, I almost snapped.
Why should I tell you anything? The words burned at the back of my throat, hot and bitter, like bile.
The old instincts rose fast. Anger, suspicion, that wounded beast in my chest snarling to life.
The part of me that had survived by keeping everyone at arm’s length, by never letting anyone close enough to hurt me again.
I clenched my jaw, fists curling under the table where he couldn’t see.
I’d seen the wariness flicker across his face when I asked him about the stranger. I wanted to demand answers. Push. Tear the truth out of him.
But then I looked at him, really looked. Not just the nervous smile or the way his hands trembled slightly when he sipped his drink.
Not the way he avoided eye contact when the conversation got too close to his past. No, I looked past all that. And I realized something that gutted me.
He hadn’t asked to be trusted. Not yet. Because whatever he was running from… he hadn’t escaped it. Not really.
I had. Or at least, I was trying to. I’d built Bear and Bun from ashes and trauma. I’d carved out a sliver of peace in a world that once only gave me pain.
I had friends now. A family. I had safety. Walls that held. A door I could lock. A life I was slowly, slowly learning to love. Sean was still learning how to breathe.
He was still watching every shadow over his shoulder. Still flinching at the sound of raised voices. Still guarding whatever truth sat like a loaded gun in his chest.
He was still trying to survive. And I was learning how to live again. So I swallowed the anger. Choked it down like glass.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to let me in. That didn’t mean I had to lock him out.
Not if there was even the smallest chance that he’d someday look at me and see a safe place to land. I forced my shoulders to relax, my bear to still, the storm inside me to quiet.
“It’s an old injury,” I said finally, voice rough. “From a fight. One I lost.”
Sean’s brows pinched like he wanted to ask more, but to my relief, he let it go. Just nodded, gently.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I shrugged. “You’re not the one who did it.”
But the way he looked at me then, like he wished he could take the pain anyway, made something stir deep in my chest. The coffee cooled. The light outside turned gold and soft.
And when I offered to walk him back, he didn’t hesitate.
We took the long way. Through the park, down the street lined with fairy lights still strung from spring. He didn’t rush it. Didn’t complain. I stole glances when I thought he wouldn’t notice.
He noticed. He smiled anyway. By the time we reached his building, I didn’t want the night to end. I stood there on the cracked sidewalk, watching him fish for his keys.
“Thanks,” he said softly. “For the coffee. For walking me back.”
I opened my mouth to say something. Didn’t know what.
So I stepped closer instead.
His breath caught. His lips parted. I thought, if you’re not ready, just say it. But he didn’t move. So I kissed him. Gently, at first. A question.
He stiffened for a heartbeat, like he wasn’t sure this was real, and then melted against me, mouth soft and eager.
His hands gripped the front of my jacket, pulling me closer, and I didn’t hesitate.
I wrapped my arms around him, held him tight, like maybe if I pressed hard enough, I could anchor both of us. The kiss deepened.
His tongue brushed mine and the spark that passed between us felt like a fuse catching fire. His body against mine was warm, solid, and right in a way that made me ache.
I didn’t want to stop. But I knew if I didn’t, I’d want more than he was ready to give. So I forced myself to pull away. His breath was ragged. Mine wasn’t much better.
“Good night,” I murmured, voice hoarse.
Sean’s eyes searched mine. “Good night,” he whispered. “And… sweet dreams, Beau.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and I stood there for a long minute, heart racing.
The warmth of his mouth still lingered on mine, the taste of coffee and cinnamon on his lips. My pulse thudded in my ears, loud enough to drown out the quiet hallway around me.
My inner bear paced just beneath my skin, restless and buzzing, stirred up by the heat of that kiss. He urged me to knock again, to take things further.
To follow that scent of longing, of home, and close the distance that still lingered between us. To press his body against mine again, to feel Sean melt into me with the same quiet desperation.
Claim him, my bear growled in the back of my mind. He wants you. Let him.
But I clenched my jaw and stayed still, knuckles brushing the smooth wood of the door. My breath was shallow, chest tight with wanting.
“No,” I whispered under my breath. “Not like this.”
Because Sean wasn’t ready. Not fully. I’d seen the hesitation in his eyes before the kiss, that flicker of surprise when I leaned in.
The way his body froze for just a breath before he returned the kiss with trembling lips and fingers that clung to the edge of my shirt like a lifeline.
He wanted me. But he was still learning to trust me. Still figuring out if I was a safe place, or just another mistake waiting to happen.
The last thing I’d ever want was to scare him off. To make him think I needed more from him than he was ready to give. Patience, I reminded myself.
He’d come this far, let me in this much. That had to count for something.
I let my hand fall away from the door, flexing my fingers to shake the tension out of them. My heart still thundered, but I forced a long, slow breath through my lungs, willing my bear to settle.
Not tonight. But maybe… soon.