Chapter 9
Beau
The day started off great. The scent of cinnamon rolls and freshly brewed espresso filled the air.
Leo had put on a playlist full of soft indie rock that made the whole bakery feel like it belonged in one of those cozy little coffee shop montages in a movie.
The usual morning crowd shuffled in. Locals who knew us by name, who ordered their favorites without even needing to speak. Comfort. Routine. I thrived on it.
Sean was already at the counter, apron tied neatly around his waist, his hair still slightly damp from a shower. He looked… radiant. No other word for it.
There was something soft in his eyes, a sort of sleepy sweetness in his smile.
He handed a pastry bag to one of our elderly regulars and laughed when she scolded him for giving her “too much change.”
It made my chest ache in the best way. He’d been here for weeks now, and every day I felt him weaving deeper into the rhythm of the bakery. Into me.
And I was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, I could believe in good things again.
“Beau, stop staring,” Rafael muttered as he passed me with a tray of muffins. “You’re gonna burn a hole through the man.”
“I’m not staring,” I said.
“You’re mooning. It’s embarrassing,” Rafael pointed out.
I grunted, shoving a tray into the oven. But I didn’t deny it. Because it was true. I couldn’t help myself. Something about today felt bright. Easy.
And then he walked in. Sharp shoes. Designer sunglasses indoors. A Bluetooth earpiece in like he was some hotshot stockbroker instead of a guy in a bakery.
The kind of customer who looked around like everything was beneath him. I’d seen his type before. Entitled, dismissive, never kind to service staff.
He cut straight to the counter, ignoring the three people in line ahead of him.
“I need a black coffee. Large. And a plain croissant. Fast,” he said, not even looking Sean in the eye. “I’m late for a meeting.”
Sean blinked, polite but firm. “There’s a line, sir. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”
The guy scoffed and muttered, “This place is a joke.”
My shoulders tensed.
He stayed right there at the counter, muttering under his breath, making a show of tapping at his phone like the world owed him something.
And when Sean stepped away to hand a latte to the woman who was next in line, the guy moved. Elbowed Sean aside to reach for the pastry case, like Sean was in his way and not doing his job.
Sean stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the counter with a hiss of pain. Something inside me snapped.
I was there in a flash, stepping between them before I could even think.
My body moved on instinct, the bear roaring awake inside me, claws pressing beneath the surface, heartbeat hammering so loud it drowned out the music, the customers, even Rafael calling my name.
“You want to try that again?” I snarled, voice low and shaking. “Go ahead. Touch him one more time.”
The man looked startled. Then smug. “What’s your problem? It was an accident.”
Accident. Seriously? A growl tore from my throat before I could stop it, guttural and deep enough to make the man pale.
I took a step forward, the space between us electric with tension, my muscles coiled and ready to rip him apart for just existing near Sean.
My breath came hard. My hands shook. The shift was close.
I could feel my teeth pressing sharp behind my lips. My nails had already thickened, claws beginning to curl.
“Beau,” Rafael’s voice came from somewhere behind me. “Back off. Come on, man. Let it go.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Everything narrowed to red and rage and mine.
“Beau,” Rafael tried again, louder, stepping up to grab my arm, but I shrugged him off without even registering it.
Then Sean was there. His hand touched my wrist. Light. Gentle. Just a whisper of warmth.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m okay.”
His voice hit me like a thunderclap through the fog.
My vision cleared. I blinked. Realized how close I was to losing control. How much my bear wanted to hurt this man.
I looked down, saw Sean’s calm but worried face, and everything inside me loosened. My claws retracted slowly. My breathing slowed.
“I’m okay,” Sean said again, thumb brushing the back of my hand.
The guy mumbled something and left in a hurry, but I barely noticed. All I could hear was my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
All I could feel was the shame clawing its way up my throat. What if I’d shifted? What if I’d scared Sean?
“I need to go,” I muttered.
Rafael, finally able to reach me without getting bitten, nodded quickly.
“Yeah. Take a breather. I’ll cover,” Rafael said.
I walked out into the cool air, the scent of sugar and flour clinging to my shirt, my body still too tight, too wired. I’d nearly lost it. In front of customers. In front of Sean.
And the worst part? It had felt good. For a moment, just one, burning second, it had felt right.
Like slipping into an old coat, heavy and worn, but familiar. That sharp edge of adrenaline. The thrill of power. Of fear in someone else’s eyes. It was intoxicating. Addictive. Dangerous.
Like the old me.
The version of myself I’d buried under flour and sugar, under soft words and second chances. The one I swore I’d never be again.
My fists clenched. I could still feel the shift prickling under my skin, a ghost of it clinging to my bones like smoke that wouldn’t clear. My bear didn’t understand why I’d pulled back.
Didn’t understand restraint. It only knew someone had threatened what was ours. Who was ours. That’s not you anymore, I told myself, the words tight and bitter on my tongue.
I wasn’t that guy who fought every challenge, who snapped and clawed at anyone who got too close. You’re different now, I thought, but it felt hollow.
Because for a second, I wanted to tear that man apart. Not just to protect Sean, but to enjoy it. To remind the world that I still could.
I started walking.
Didn’t know where I was going. Just needed space. Air. A chance to pull myself back together before I shattered all the progress I’d made.
I walked past the park, through town, barely registering the familiar sights around me.
I only stopped when I reached the edge of the woods. Those quiet, whispering trees that had always made me feel small and grounded.
I leaned against a thick trunk, head tilted back, lungs burning. The cool forest air scraped against the back of my throat, but it didn’t settle the roaring in my chest.
“You’re not that guy anymore,” I whispered aloud this time, voice ragged.
But the dark and scared and honest part of me wasn’t sure if I believed it.
Because sometimes, in moments like this, I still felt like him. The beast with blood on his claws. A true son of the Ironwood Bear Clan, bred for dominance, forged in fists and fear.
And then I remembered Levi. The look in his eyes when he knelt beside Rafael’s truck, dust and ash in the air, as I lay half-conscious in the backseat. The hope in them. The desperation.
He’d let me go. Lied to the clan. Told them I was dead.
That night, Levi lost a brother, and I gained a chance.
And I’d be wasting it if I let myself slip back into what the clan made me. If I let that old rage devour what I’d built here, what we’d all built and what Sean believed in.
I exhaled a shaky breath, grounding myself in the dirt, the bark against my spine, the distant scent of pastries carried from the festival, and the lingering memory of Sean’s hand in mine.
“I’m not that guy anymore,” I repeated.
And this time… I almost believed it.
I decided not to return to the bakery. I texted Rafael, and he replied it was a good idea. I’d scared a man today. Scared Sean. Scared myself.
I didn’t need to be behind that counter right now. Not with my hands still shaking from the fury I’d barely leashed. So I walked home.
Every step felt heavier than the last, like I was dragging a hundred-pound weight chained to my chest. My boots scuffed gravel. My bear still paced behind my ribs, agitated, unsettled.
I told myself I was walking away for everyone’s sake, that it was the right call. But it still felt like failure. By the time I unlocked my door, the silence was already closing in.
I didn’t turn on the lights. Just sat on the couch and stared at the wall, arms resting on my knees, trying to breathe through the storm in my chest. I hadn’t shifted, but gods, I’d come so close.
Too close.
I’d sworn I’d never let myself become that man again. The one my father shaped with fists and fear. The one who used his strength as a weapon because it was all he’d ever known.
A knock startled me out of the spiral.
I blinked, pushed myself up. For a second, I considered ignoring it. But then I caught the scent. Soft, warm, spiced sugar and something brighter beneath it. Nervousness.
Sean.
I opened the door.
He stood there holding a small box, the edges smudged with grease stains and the faintest shimmer of powdered sugar.
“I, uh… brought something,” he said, eyes flicking to mine, cautious but not afraid.
I stepped aside silently and let him in.
He placed the box on my kitchen counter like it was an offering to the gods.
“Honey cake,” he said, glancing at me with a crooked smile. “I remember you said it was your favorite.”
It was. It is. My throat tightened. “You didn’t have to—” I began.
“I know.” He shrugged, stuffing his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. “But I wanted to.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I just nodded and opened the box. The smell hit me instantly. Sweet and golden and warm. Like sunlight made edible.
I grabbed a slice and felt a little better.
Sean leaned against the counter, watching me. “You know what always cheers me up on days like this?”
I looked at him. I was already on my second slice of cake.
He lifted a brow. “Late night baking.”
A pause. “It helps.”
He said it like a dare, or maybe a soft nudge. Something about the way he smiled, gentle but sure, made my chest ache.
So I nodded. And just like that, we were moving around my kitchen like we’d done it a dozen times. He reached for bowls. I measured out flour.
There were brushes of shoulders, lingering glances over shared spoons of batter. At one point, his fingers accidentally grazed mine and neither of us moved away.
I found myself smiling. Really smiling.
He cracked a joke about how Rafael would’ve already burned the sugar if he were here. I laughed. It felt like I hadn’t laughed all day. Maybe longer.
When the second tray of cookies went into the oven, Sean leaned back against the counter, watching me. “Feeling better?”
I met his eyes and didn’t lie. “Yeah. I am. Thanks to you.”
Sean smiled, that soft kind of smile that always made me want to pull him closer.
But something still sat in my chest, heavy and gnawing. I exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand down my face.
“I’ve never lost my temper like that before,” I said quietly. “Not since we came to Sugarpaw Springs.”
His smile faded just a little, but he didn’t look away.
“I’m sorry,” I added, voice low. “For frightening you. For scaring the customers. I thought I was better than that.”
“You didn’t scare me,” he said, firmly. “Not for one second, Beau.”
I looked at him.
“Everyone has their bad days,” he continued, pushing off the counter and walking toward me. “You’re allowed to lose it sometimes. That doesn’t make you dangerous.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “It wasn’t just a bad day, Sean. Before this town, before the bakery… I wasn’t someone you’d want to know. I was…” I hesitated. “A killer.”
Sean didn’t flinch. Didn’t back away.
Instead, he stepped closer and placed a hand on my chest, right over my heart. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not that person anymore.”
I looked down at him, overwhelmed.
“I’m scared of turning back into him,” I admitted, the words ripped from someplace deep and raw.
“If something like that ever happens again,” Sean said, “you won’t be alone. I’ll be there. Rafael. The others. We’ll bring you back.”
His fingers curled slightly into my shirt.
And in that moment, something inside me finally unclenched. I reached up, cupped his face, my thumb brushing the soft curve of his cheek.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.
Sean smiled, eyes warm and sure. “Too late,” he said. “You’ve got me.”
I kissed him again, soft and slow, and Sean responded with equal passion.