Chapter 8
Sean
I woke up with a knot already twisted in my stomach.
Sunlight filtered in through the half-open blinds of my tiny apartment, catching on the flour-dusted countertop and the chaos I’d left behind in the kitchen.
Bowls, spatulas, and trays of cookies lined every available surface like evidence of my insomnia. Stress-baking. Again.
I sat up, scrubbing my hands down my face. Today was training day.
I was supposed to run a little session at Bear and Bun, showing Beau and the others a few baking techniques I’d learned at culinary school.
It wasn’t a huge deal. Beau had said it would be low-key, casual, but still. The idea of standing in front of them, especially Cassian, who already knew his way around a kitchen?
My stomach churned harder.
I got up, padding barefoot into the kitchen to tidy a little, though my hands were already shaking with nerves. I’d barely touched the dish towel when the doorbell rang.
My heart leapt into my throat.
For a second, I thought he had found me. That Orin had somehow tracked me down, that my flimsy new safety net was already fraying.
My breath hitched. My eyes darted to the door like it was a monster come knocking.
“Sean? It’s me.”
Beau’s voice. Steady. Warm. Familiar.
My pulse slowed.
I crossed the apartment in three steps and opened the door to find him standing there, holding two to-go cups and looking unfairly good for this early in the morning.
His hair was a little messy from the wind, and the sight of him chased the last of my fear away.
“One of those better be for me,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
He grinned and held one out. “I wouldn’t dare show up empty-handed.”
I took the cup with a small smile and stepped aside to let him in.
Beau looked around as he entered, taking in the cluttered but cozy space. “Place looks good.”
I flushed a little. “Most of it’s second-hand stuff. Found the couch on a curb.”
He shrugged like that didn’t matter at all. “Still. You’ve made it your own.”
That made something soft flicker in my chest. I looked away and took a sip of the coffee.
Beau sniffed the air and tilted his head. “What smells so good?”
“Oh wait, hold on,” I started to say, but he was already headed toward the kitchen.
He picked up a cookie from a cooling rack. One of the peanut butter chocolate chunk ones I’d made in the middle of the night.
“These yours?” he asked, already taking a bite.
“Help yourself,” I said with a laugh. “Those were part of a stress-baking marathon.”
His eyes widened as he chewed. “Oh wow. These are amazing. Have you been baking all morning?”
“Since about four a.m.,” I admitted. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m nervous about the little class later.”
Beau turned toward me slowly, cookie still in hand. “You’re nervous?”
I nodded. “I just... I don’t know how the others are going to take it. Cassian already knows what he’s doing, and I’m just the new guy. It feels weird to be teaching anyone. What if I screw up? What if I forget something or they think I’m—”
“Hey.” His voice was low but firm as he crossed the space between us.
I stopped talking as he gently set the cookie down and took my coffee from my hand, placing it on the counter. Then he stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off his body.
He smelled like warm cedar, a hint of sugar, and safety.
“You’ve got this,” he said, eyes searching mine. “You know what you’re doing. You’re passionate, talented, and everyone at the bakery likes you. Even Cassian. He’s just got a permanent scowl, but trust me. If he didn’t respect you, he wouldn’t even show up.”
I bit my lip. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
I looked at him, and whatever I’d been holding back cracked a little.
Beau reached out and pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and tucking me in close.
My cheek pressed to his chest, and I let myself breathe him in, let myself soften in his hold. His arms were strong, steady. He didn’t squeeze too tightly, just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone.
“You don’t have to prove anything to us,” Beau murmured against my hair, his voice low and steady, like the rumble of distant thunder. Comforting and grounding. “Just be yourself. That’s already more than enough.”
His words melted into me, sinking past the wall of nerves and self-doubt.
I breathed him in, warmth and cinnamon and something that was just him, and nodded against his chest, my fingers curling slightly in the hem of his shirt.
After a long, quiet moment where all I could hear was the steady beat of his heart and the soft rush of morning outside my window, I tipped my face up to look at him.
“Thanks,” I said. “I needed that.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he smiled. Not that polite kind of smile, but the kind that reached all the way in and touched something soft and private inside me.
He reached up, brushing a thumb along my cheekbone, his callused skin grazing mine.
“Anytime,” he said.
And then he kissed me. It wasn’t rushed or demanding, just warm and sweet and slow, like the morning sunlight spilling through my windows.
My lips parted under his, and I tasted coffee and sugar and him, and my heart gave a helpless stutter.
His hands slid down to my waist, large and steady, pulling me closer in a way that sent heat darting up my spine.
I could feel his fingers splay against the curve of my hips, could feel the flex of his chest under my palms as I clutched at his shirt, needing to hold onto something solid.
Because that kiss? That kiss felt like falling and being caught at the same time. I let myself lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms.
My nerves didn’t disappear, but they dulled under the press of his mouth, softened by the way his lips lingered on mine like he didn’t want to let go.
When we finally broke apart, I stayed in the circle of his arms, catching my breath.
Beau rested his forehead against mine, his eyes still half-lidded, his voice rougher now and lower, with a hint of something that made my stomach flip.
“You’ve got this, Sean,” Beau said.
I swallowed hard. “I’ll do my best,” I promised.
“You always do.”
He said it like he meant it. The real me, the scared parts, the parts that doubted if I belonged, and didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. If anything, he held me tighter.
And something about that cracked me wide open. I leaned in and kissed him again, this time a little deeper, a little braver.
His hands flexed at my waist, and he let out a quiet groan against my mouth that made my whole body light up like a struck match.
The air between us pulsed with heat. Not frantic, not rushed, but steady. Hungry. Like we were both learning the shape of this thing we were building together.
When I finally pulled back, my cheeks flushed and my heart doing somersaults, Beau looked down at me like I’d hung the stars in his sky.
“Go get ’em, chef,” he said, his lips quirking.
I laughed, the sound shaky but real, and nudged his side. “Only if you promise to be in my corner.”
He leaned down again, kissing the tip of my nose. “Always.”
And just like that, the fear didn’t seem so loud anymore.
By the time Beau and I got to the bakery, my stomach was still fluttering, but for once, it wasn’t just nerves. It was hope.
I’d spent the walk over rehearsing my baking notes like a total nerd, muttering to myself while Beau grinned beside me and gently teased, “You realize we all already know you’re a genius with butter and sugar, right?”
Still. Teaching a bunch of bear shifters how to perfect laminated dough?
That was... a unique challenge.
I stepped into the kitchen to find the crew already waiting. Rafael was leaning back against the counter, arms crossed but eyes warm.
Dorian was peeling the wrapper off a granola bar like he was bracing for war.
Leo was humming something off-key as he rearranged a tray of utensils, and Cassian had his arms folded, brows arched, looking every bit intimidating.
“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands together a little too loudly. “Let’s learn how not to murder croissants today.”
Rafael chuckled. Cassian just blinked.
Progress? I started off simple. Mise en place, the importance of temperature, dough consistency, resting time.
I handed out laminated guides I’d printed (yes, laminated, don’t judge me) and ignored the way Dorian held his like it was ancient scripture.
Things were going surprisingly well.
The dough was laminated, the fillings were prepped, and no one had set anything on fire. I was just starting to think I might actually survive this class when it happened.
Leo, bless him, was trying to carry a block of butter the size of a brick over to the prep table. He’d been doing so well. He was focused, precise, even a little proud of himself.
Until he didn’t see the edge of the mat.
The butter slipped from his hands with a dramatic squelch and hit the floor with a splat that echoed across the kitchen like a slap.
For a second, everyone just froze. Then chaos. Rafael, turning too quickly with a bowl of egg wash, stepped right on the butter.
His foot shot out from under him like a cartoon character on a banana peel. The bowl flew from his hands. Egg wash rained down like golden confetti.
“Oh come on!” Rafael shouted mid-slide, right before his hip slammed into the counter and he crumpled to the floor with a groan.
“Bear down!” Dorian hollered, immediately ducking behind the mixer like we were under attack.
Cassian clapped a hand over his mouth but the sound that came out was unmistakably a snort. His shoulders shook, and I knew he’d lost the battle.
I tried to keep it together, I really did. But the sight of Rafael on the floor, covered in egg wash and glaring up like a very soggy, very offended bear, was too much.
I doubled over, laughing so hard I had to clutch the edge of the counter to stay upright.
“Okay. Okay. Reset!” I wheezed between gasps. “Rule number one: do not weaponize the butter!”
Leo’s face was as red as a strawberry Danish.
“My bad!” he called, sheepish. “I swear it slipped!”
“Slipped?” Rafael said, rising slowly and dripping like a very dignified swamp creature. “It ambushed me.”
Leo gave him an apologetic look. “I’ll clean it up—”
“Oh, you will,” Rafael grumbled, snatching a towel from the hook. “And you’re on butter-fetching probation.”
Cassian finally lost it and let out a laugh that startled even him. Dorian peeked out from behind the mixer and gave me a thumbs-up like this was the best class he’d ever been part of.
I straightened up, cheeks aching from smiling. My heart swelled just a little at the sight of them. They were flour-dusted, laughing, and bantering like brothers.
Maybe they weren’t the easiest class in the world. But they were mine, for today at least.
By the time we got back on track, we were all covered in flour, laughter echoing through the kitchen as the layers of awkwardness peeled away, like, well, croissant dough.
There were still some clumsy folds, some too-thin sheets, and one very tragic rectangle that looked like it had been mauled... but we made it through.
And somehow, they listened. They asked questions. Even Cassian leaned in during the chocolate filling demo and nodded with approval.
When we wrapped up, Rafael smacked his hands together. “I vote lunch before I inhale a sheet tray.”
“Diner?” Beau asked, already reaching for the bakery keys.
“Yes,” I said immediately, not even pretending to resist.
Beau’s favorite diner was a ten-minute walk from the bakery. One of those places that always smelled like coffee and nostalgia.
The vinyl booths creaked, the waitresses knew every name and order by heart, and there was a jukebox that always seemed to play something from the ‘80s no matter what button you pushed.
We piled into a big booth in the back, the six of us crammed in like a litter of oversized puppies.
I didn’t even mind that I’d somehow ended up squished between Dorian and Cassian, who immediately started stealing my fries like it was a full-time job.
“Hey! Get your own fries,” I mock-glared, shielding my basket like it was sacred.
Cassian didn’t even flinch. “Nah,” he said, completely deadpan, snagging another one with zero remorse. “It’s funnier this way.”
“Pretty sure that’s theft,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Pretty sure you’re feeding me voluntarily,” he shot back, chewing slowly just to make a point.
Dorian leaned around me with a grin. “If you kiss him, he might stop.”
Cassian raised a brow. “I might ask for more.”
I groaned and shoved a fry in my mouth before either of them could escalate. “You people are unhinged.”
Beau, across the table, was laughing into his coffee, his eyes soft when they flicked to mine. “You say that like you’re not one of us now.”
And just like that, something in my chest loosened.
I looked around the table. At Rafael teasing Leo about his “butter crimes,” at Dorian enthusiastically recounting the moment he yelled “bear down,” at Cassian subtly nudging more of my fries onto his plate and felt it settle in, warm and low and steady.
Maybe I was.
Maybe I was one of them now.
And honestly? That thought scared me a little… but it also made me smile.
I noticed Beau had this soft look in his eyes like he couldn’t quite believe this was real. I felt the same way. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was laughing.
Really laughing. No mask, no tightness in my chest, no pretending. Just… happy.
When lunch wrapped up and we headed back to the bakery, the sun was high, the streets alive with weekend chatter.
And as we turned the corner, I saw the small line already forming outside Bear and Bun. Our regulars, chatting and laughing like they belonged there.
Beau’s face lit up the second he saw it. His whole body straightened, his grin wide and open and proud. I couldn’t help but smile too, warmth flooding through me.
We stepped inside, flipped the sign, and moved into the rhythm of the day. Orders, smiles, familiar faces, the scent of cinnamon rolls and espresso filling the air like magic.
I caught myself glancing at the door once or twice, just a flicker of old habit.
That fear of being found, of being chased still lingered in the back of my mind. I remembered that jolt of panic when the doorbell rang this morning.
The thought that maybe Orin had found me.
Silly, I told myself firmly.
Beau was here. The others had my back. I was safe. Besides, things were finally going well. Really well.
And if life had taught me anything, it was that when things started feeling good… that’s when the fall usually came.
But I pushed the thought down. Buried it beneath sugar and steam and the soft hum of contentment that came with belonging.
Because for now? I had a family, and we had a bakery to run.