Chapter 19
Bear
The apartment is too quiet this morning.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet either. I’m sitting at the small kitchen table, coffee going cold in front of me, watching Natalie move back and forth between the bedroom and the living room like she’s trying to burn off nervous energy.
She’s not frantic or pacing. But she is restless. Folding a throw blanket that doesn’t need folding. Straightening a stack of mail that’s already neat. Picking up her phone, setting it down again.
I recognize it because I do the same thing before a fight.
“You don’t have to keep moving,” I say finally.
She glances over her shoulder. “I know.”
She keeps moving anyway.
I lean back in the chair and scrub a hand over my face, trying not to smile at the same time my stomach knots.
A few months ago, I didn’t even know how to sit still with her in the same room without feeling like the world might implode.
Now I’m watching her fuss over throw pillows while we get ready to drop two life-changing bombs on her brother.
Progress, I guess.
“You excited?” she asks, not looking at me.
I don’t pretend. “Yeah.”
That gets her attention. She turns, studies my face like she’s checking to see if I mean it. I do. Completely.
“I’m also scared shitless,” I add. “But mostly excited.”
Her mouth curves into a sm
all, careful smile. “You don’t seem scared.”
“That’s because I’ve spent most of my life pretending I’m not,” I tell her. “Doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
She comes to the table and sits across from me, tucking one leg up under herself.
There’s a softness to her now that still catches me off guard.
Not weakness. Just ease. Like she’s finally breathing after a lifetime of holding it in.
We’ve had a few weeks to get used to our new life, but today there’s a different challenge.
One that neither of us have been looking forward to.
Rick’s coming home.
It’s not that I’m not excited that my best friend is finally being released from the hospital, or that Nat isn’t happy her brother is coming home. Just that we haven’t told him.
About us.
About the baby.
“I keep thinking about how we’re going to say it,” she admits. “Like if we choose the wrong words, it’ll blow up.”
I snort. “It’s Rick. It’s gonna blow up no matter what words we use.”
She exhales, rubbing her hands together. “I don’t want him to feel like I lied to him.”
“We didn’t lie,” I say gently. “We just didn’t dump everything on him while he was laid up in a hospital bed.”
She nods, but the worry doesn’t leave her eyes.
“He’s protective,” she says. “And I’m his little sister. That’s… a hard shift.”
“I know.” I reach across the table and take her hand. “He’ll get there.”
She laces her fingers through mine. “You sound very confident.”
“I sound hopeful,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
She huffs out a quiet laugh. “That’s fair.”
I glance down at where her free hand rests on her stomach, more out of instinct than intention. It’s still early. Nothing to see yet. She’s nine weeks. And yet my chest tightens every time I remember it’s real.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmurs, following my gaze.
“Good or bad?”
She thinks about it. “Good,” she says finally. “Terrifying, but good.”
“Same.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m excited, Nat. About the baby. About… us.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, searching. “You don’t feel trapped?”
The question is quiet. Careful. Like she’s afraid of the answer.
“No,” I say without hesitation. “I feel like I finally know what I’m doing.”
She blinks, clearly not expecting that.
“I’ve spent years riding fast, fighting harder, and pretending tomorrow wasn’t a thing,” I continue. “Now I’m thinking about car seats and doctor appointments and fucking schools. It’s… grounding.”
Her throat works. “I keep waiting for you to wake up one morning and realize this is too much.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “Hey. Look at me, darlin’.”
She does.
“I ain’t going nowhere,” I say. “Not because of the baby. Because of you.”
Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t look away this time.
“Okay,” she whispers.
We sit there for a moment, hands linked, letting the weight of the day settle in.
“The church paperwork came through,” she says after a bit.
“Yeah?” I keep my tone neutral, but I’m watching her closely.
“I signed everything,” she says. “Once it’s finalized, it’s done.”
“How do you feel about it?”
She shrugs, but it’s not dismissive. “Relieved. Mostly. It feels like closing a door that should’ve been shut a long time ago.”
I nod. “That money gives us options.”
She smiles faintly. “Like somewhere bigger.”
“Like somewhere bigger,” I agree. “This place was fine when it was just me and Rick.”
“And now?”
“And now I’ve got a woman and a kid on the way,” I say. “Feels like time to level up.”
She laughs softly. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple,” I admit. “But it’s good.”
Her gaze drifts towards the window. “Rick’s going to hate the idea of us moving without him.”
“We always talked about finding a bigger place, if you’re okay with it, and he’s okay with it, I don’t see any reason why he can’t come,” I say.
She looks back at me, surprised. “You really mean that?”
“I do.”
“He’s stubborn.”
“I know.”
“He won’t want to feel like a burden.”
“I know,” I repeat. “But I also know what it’s like to heal alone. If he wants it, the door’s open. I just want him to know I ain’t casting him aside now I got a woman.”
She nods slowly. “I like that.”
Silence settles again, more comfortable this time.
I glance at the clock. “We should probably head out soon.”
She grimaces. “Yeah.”
“You want to run through it one more time?”
She shakes her head. “No. If we rehearse it, it’ll just feel fake.”
“Fair.”
She stands, grabbing her property cut from the back of the chair. I follow her, pulling mine on too. At the door, she pauses, hand on the handle.
“What if he’s really angry?” she asks quietly.
“Then he’s angry,” I say. “That doesn’t mean we’re wrong.”
She nods, breathing in deep. “You’ll stay calm?”
I smirk. “I’ll do my best.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not reassuring.”
I step closer, resting my forehead against hers. “Whatever happens today, we face it together.”
She closes her eyes. “Together.”
I kiss her once, quick and soft, then open the door.
As we step out into the hallway, my nerves kick back up, but underneath them is something solid. Excitement. Purpose. The strange, steady certainty that this—messy, complicated, imperfect as it is—is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I’m gonna be a father.
And today, we’re telling her brother the truth.
One way or another, everything changes from here.
***
For a heartbeat, I don’t move.
Then Rick’s gaze snaps to me, sharp and disbelieving. I can tell the moment he notices that Nat’s wearing my property cut, and I know exactly how bad this is about to get. There’s no confusion in his eyes anymore. Just hurt.
He’s out of the chair before anyone can say a word and takes a step towards us. Instinct kicks in. I move without thinking, shifting Natalie behind me. I know it’s the right call, even though it pisses him off. I’m not worried about him going after her—I know better than that. He’s angry at me.
The smarter move would probably be to hide behind her, let her calm him down. But I’m not built that way.
He snarls, “You put your cut on my fuckin’ sister.”
The hurt in his voice lands harder than the words themselves.
“You’ve got balls of brass to go behind my back,” he snaps, jabbing a finger at me without touching me. “You knew I made her off limits for the brothers—especially you. I said it straight to your face, and you promised me you’d stay the fuck away.”
“Stay back,” I growl, keeping my voice level even as my pulse spikes. “It wasn’t the way you’re saying.”
He doesn’t stay back. I knew he wouldn’t.
“And you waited until I was down, half dead in a fuckin’ coma, to stake your claim.”
His gaze drops to my cut, then flicks back up. I see something twist inside him, and that hurts worse than anything else he’s said so far.
“I called you my brother,” he says, disbelief heavy in his voice. “I trusted you in my house. Around my sister. And you took the one thing I asked you to leave the hell alone.”
When I don’t answer right away, he keeps going, unloading everything he’s been holding in.
“This right here?” He sweeps his arm towards Natalie and my cut. “This is what betrayal looks like. And I’m not standing here pretending I’m fine with it.”
I don’t back up. Not even an inch.
I plant my boots wider and square my shoulders. It’s a stance Rick knows well. We used to joke about it when we were kids—my iron protector stance. Once I’m in it, I don’t budge.
Natalie moves to my side again, refusing to stay hidden. My hand comes to rest at the small of her back without thinking. It’s instinct. Possession. Protection. I don’t soften it.
Rick just stares at us, jaw tight. We probably look like a unit. I know that realization is hitting him even if he hasn’t named it yet.
“We knew this would be hard on you, bro,” I say finally, keeping my voice low and steady. “That’s why we waited until now to tell you.”
He lets out a harsh, humorless laugh. “So the two of you have been fuckin’ lying to me. Since when? Since I woke up?”
I give him a small nod. I won’t insult him by pretending otherwise.
“Brothers don’t lie to brothers,” he snaps. “You know that. How many ways do I gotta say I don’t want you fuckin’ my damn sister?”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t flinch. “Don’t be crude. Natalie chose me. I tried to resist, but I’m not made of fuckin’ stone.”
His eyes narrow. “Clearly you didn’t try hard enough. Some friend you turned out to be.”
My hand tightens briefly at Natalie’s back, grounding myself before I answer. “She’s mine,” I say flatly. “And one day, you’re gonna thank me for this.”
He scoffs. “Not damn likely, asshole.”
Before I can respond, Natalie steps forward, slipping just out of my reach. I don’t stop her. This is something she needs to say herself.
“I’ve spent a lot of sleepless nights worrying about how to tell you this,” she says, her voice shaking but steady enough. “I kept thinking if I could just find the right words, you’d understand that I need both of you in my life.”
Rick opens his mouth, but she keeps going.
“I fell in love with your best friend,” she says plainly. “Is that really so terrible?” Her eyes flick to me for a split second, then back to him. “I see all the good things you see when you look at him. I just see them through a woman’s eyes.”
Her voice softens. “Wanting to be with Bear isn’t a betrayal of you.”
She pauses, lets it sink in.
“You’re my brother,” she says firmly. “I’m not betraying you. And I’m not letting you disown me over this.”
I can see Rick wavering, anger colliding with something else—something heavier.
Natalie doesn’t let up.
“Bear took care of me,” she continues. “He protected me. He gave me a reason to get up in the morning when I was terrified you wouldn’t wake up.
We worried about you together. We visited you.
We did everything we could think of to make sure you’d walk out of here and live your life on your own terms.”
She draws a breath. “You’re more important than you realize. You shouldn’t punish me for wanting a husband.”
Rick looks at her then. Really looks.
I watch his expression shift as he takes her in. The weight she’s gained. The color in her face. The way she stands—steady, sure of herself. She looks cared for. Happy. I know that matters to him, even if he won’t say it.
I don’t move. Natalie stands there, waiting. And I understand something then, clear as day—nothing is ever going back to the way it was.
When Rick doesn’t respond, Natalie closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around him before he can pull away. He stiffens at first, tension radiating off him, but when she doesn’t let go, I see him sag just a little.
Then she whispers something I can’t hear.
Rick pulls back just enough to look at her, brow furrowed. I see the moment it hits him. His gaze drops to where her hands rest over her stomach.
Understanding slams into him like a freight train.
Natalie smiles, small and knowing. “You’re going to be an uncle in a few months.”
Rick’s head snaps towards me. I don’t look away. My jaw is tight, but there’s no apology in my eyes. I’m not giving her up. Not now. Not ever.
I see it dawn on him then. He’s not losing a sister. After years of it just being him, he’s gaining a family.
“Gonna need to get a fuckin’ sidecar, ‘cause I ain’t getting’ no damn cage,” he mutters.
Natalie laughs, the sound light and real, and for the first time since this all blew up, the air shifts.
Relief sneaks in. He’s okay. We’re okay. We’re gonna do this.
When one of the nurses reappears with a wheelchair, the moment breaks, but the damage—or maybe the healing—is already done.
As we head out, sunlight blinding after too long inside, I slide Rick his sunglasses without a word. He takes them.
And as we roll forward together, one truth settles deep in my chest.
Nothing is the same anymore.
But for the first time, I’m sure it’s better this way.