Chapter 14 Orin
Orin
Orin stepped off the bus with a sneer on his face. Sugarpaw Springs. Even the name made him roll his eyes.
The air here was clean in that fake, over-sanitized way small towns tended to be. Like everyone tried too hard to pretend everything was perfect.
He glanced around the dusty little bus station. A cracked vending machine hummed beside a rusted bench, and an old bulletin board boasted hand-drawn flyers for upcoming fairs and lost pets.
Orin adjusted the strap of his bag and walked down the main street, his boots crunching against the gravel. Quaint. Boring. Dull.
Exactly the kind of place someone like Sean would run to. Somewhere no one would think to look, until now. Orin’s motel wasn’t much better.
The outside looked like it hadn’t been painted since the 80s, and the inside wasn’t faring any better.
Faded wallpaper curled at the edges, and a single, flickering overhead light cast long shadows across the dingy floor.
He dropped his bag on the bed and wrinkled his nose at the musty scent of mildew and bleach, then tossed his coat onto a chair and moved to the mirror.
His reflection stared back at him: a non-descriptive brown-haired brown eyed man you wouldn’t take another look at on the street.
The kind of man who knew exactly how to disappear... and how to make others do the same. He didn’t plan on staying long. Just long enough to clean up the mess Sean left him.
All of this, this whole detour to Hicksville, this bullshit bus ride, this motel that smelled like something died under the bed, was Sean’s fault.
If that annoying kid hadn’t walked in that night, if he’d just minded his business like any obedient student, Orin wouldn’t be here.
He wouldn’t have had to waste his precious time to take care of this himself. He even had to hire not one, but two private investigators to track Sean down.
The first PI had been sloppy. Got himself made by some bear shifter at the bakery. Amateur hour. Orin had almost given up then, but the second PI was smarter.
Stayed in the shadows. Knew how to tail a target without being noticed.
It was that second one who’d sent the photos. Sean, clear as day, walking into a modest apartment, unaware of the camera aimed at his back.
And now… here they were.
Orin left the motel with his phone in hand and a burning in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a while. Anticipation. He needed to see Bear and Bun for himself. To count heads. Size up the threat.
Sugarpaw’s downtown was compact. An ice cream parlor, a small grocery, a post office, and then just across from a peeling diner, Bear and Bun.
Orin stepped inside the diner first, ignoring the cheery jingle of the bell above the door and the overly enthusiastic greeting from the waitress.
He picked the booth by the window, the one with the best line of sight across the street.
“Coffee. And a slice of whatever pie you’ve got,” he told her.
The coffee was burnt. The pie tasted like it had been thawed from a store-brand box. He didn’t touch either after the first bite.
He sipped the coffee anyway, more out of the need to blend in than out of thirst, and pulled up the photos again.
There was Sean, standing on the steps of his apartment. A little older now, a little leaner. But still recognizably the same. That messy hair. Those too-wide eyes.
Orin could still see the expression Sean had worn when he’d walked into that kitchen. The shock, the horror, the betrayal. And then the run.
But the fear… the fear had lingered.
He put his phone down and stared out the window. Across the street, Bear and Bun was lively with the dinner crowd. Customers filtered in and out, carrying paper bags and smiling.
The windows fogged slightly from the heat of the ovens. Inside, he saw at least two of the bear shifters he’d heard about.
They were huge men, all broad shoulders and slow, sure movements. They acted like a clan.
Shifters like that didn’t take kindly to threats, which meant if he was going to finish what he started, he’d have to be careful.
But Orin didn’t mind careful. He’d played this game before. Sean wasn’t the first annoyance to cause him so much problems, and he always came out on top.
He paid the bill with exact change and didn’t leave a tip. The waitress offered a too-bright smile anyway. Idiots.
Outside, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting a warm golden glow over the sidewalks. Orin crossed the street.
Bear and Bun smelled like sugar and warm dough. He paused just outside the window and peered inside, close enough to see the movement, but not enough to be caught.
That had to be the alpha. The dark-haired one laughing with customers, his posture too rigid to be fully relaxed. And there, near the back, Sean.
His ex-student looked good. Healthy. He was laughing, even, his head tilted back slightly as he wiped flour off his hands. The light in his eyes was new. A little more sure of himself.
Orin’s jaw tensed.
Sean had ruined everything. And now he was here, smiling like nothing had happened, like Orin was just a bad dream left behind in a city he thought he’d escaped.
No. That wouldn’t do.
It was time they had a little reunion.
He turned and walked away, hands in his pockets, head down. Not yet. But soon.
Sean wouldn’t know what hit him.