Chapter 22 I’m Not Letting You In
i’m not letting you in
BELL
Clack. Clack. Clack.
I woke to something tapping on the back window door. Confused and groggy in Zion’s sage-green shirt, I climbed down from the loft, bare feet hitting the cold floor.
The tapping continued—impatient, and vaguely rhythmic.
I approached the window and froze.
A black bear stood on the other side of the glass, massive in the moonlight.
His eyes glowed gold like Zion’s, but somehow I knew it wasn’t the teacher I’d last seen sleeping on my front room floor.
This bear’s fur was different—ink black and flecked with silver, not the mostly warm gray of Zion’s beast.
Ravik.
“I’m not letting you in,” I told him through the window glass.
The bear didn’t move. Just waited.
“I’m not letting you in,” I repeated, louder this time.
He looked at me with those gold eyes, unblinking. Like he was staring into my soul.
“Go away!” A rising panic tightened my chest. “I said, just go away!”
He stood then, raised one massive paw to the glass to give it a very deliberate tap with one sharp claw.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Incessant. Demanding. Unyielding.
“No!” I only had two hands, and I couldn’t decide whether to cover my ears or my eyes as I shouted, “I’m not letting you in! I’m not letting you in! I’m not—”
I jerked awake in the loft bed, heart pounding, still wearing Zion’s shirt.
A dream. The bear at the window was just a dream. Not a nightmare… maybe.
Sunlight streamed through the loft window—way too bright for early morning.
And when I looked over the loft’s edge again, Zion was gone, along with the overnight bag.
I refused to investigate whether I felt disappointed or relieved about that, especially before coffee.
When I padded into the kitchenette area, I found a Post-it note next to the plastic electric kettle I used to pour over the coffee bags. It was written in neat, cursive handwriting:
Dearest Bell,
You were sleeping quite soundly, and I took the liberty of not disturbing you. As it’s the weekend, I’ll be at home all day should you require anything. Simply walk over and tap on my door.
Ever Your Second,
Zion
The dream bear flashed through my mind at the words tap on my door. And my heart sped up again. Clack. Clack. Clack.
Just a dream, I reminded myself, then noticed an arrow at the bottom of the page. The universal sign to flip the note over.
P.S. Ravik left something for you on your deck and asks that you inform Boone or me if it’s not what you require.
Curious despite myself, I padded to the back door.
On top of the humming round of cedar I’d de-barked sat a MountainCraft wood-carving gouge. What in the…
It wasn’t just any tool. It was the exact curved blade I’d need to excavate out the bear’s features. I turned the cork handle over in my hands. High-quality, expensive, clearly researched.
How did he know?
For several moments, I stood there holding the gift, those complicated Ravik feelings swirling around in my chest.
Then I got to work.
The tool was perfect. It cut smooth and deep and felt right in my hand. In no time at all, the bear’s snout began to emerge from the wood in curved planes, becoming clearer with each pass.
“Hey there, sugar.”
I looked up, blinking. Boone stood there with a covered bowl in his beefy hands. Behind him, the sun hung low in the sky. Letting me know I’d lost another day to art thrall. I guess “no time at all” had actually been hours.
“We were worried you forgot to eat,” he said.
I absolutely forgot to eat, and the smell of the warm stew wafting through the aluminum reminded me to be ravenous.
And, oh, my God, there was a spoon balanced on top of the foil.
I practically snatched the bowl out of Boone’s hands with a “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
After clearing off the metal chair I’d been using as a table while I sat cross-legged in front of my stump, I took a grateful bite.
Then rolled my eyes heavenward because it was even better than yesterday’s batch. The way the rest of that stew got shoveled into my mouth.
What couldn’t have been even five minutes later, I looked up from my empty bowl to find Boone regarding me with a strange look on his face.
Self-consciousness replaced the hunger as I realized I hadn’t even bothered to wash up first. I was covered in wood shavings, and I’d dribbled stew down Zion’s green button-up.
“I know I’m a mess. I’m such a pig sometimes. So disgusting. I can’t believe I…”
I trailed off when his expression shifted—not weirded out anymore, but furious. Just like Dennis would have been if I’d made such a display of myself in front of him.
My heart kicked. Boone had been so nice, but Zion had called him a misanthrope. A grump. What if—
“I was worried I didn’t bring you enough to eat, not what you look like. Don’t do that.” His voice was rough, and his pale-blue gaze burned like the sun behind him. “Don’t talk bad about my girl like that.”
“Boone…” My heart kicked again. This time for a much different reason. “I’m not your girl. Or even a girl.”
My cheeks warmed. Though I’m blushing like one. Thank goodness it didn’t show on my dark skin. Out loud, I reminded both of us: “I’m fifty-six and should have better manners.”
“Oh, yeah?” A slow grin spread across Boone’s face, and he reached a hand under his shirt to rub his belly. “Like seeing my girl eat like that, every single bite.”
Okay, well, eye contact was all done.
Something tugged low in my stomach as I dropped my gaze to the empty bowl. “I don’t see why.”
“Well, we’re hoping to fatten you up before...”
He trailed off, and when I looked back up, he was wincing.
“Before what?” I asked, scrunching my forehead.
“Aw, sorry, sugar.” Boone’s hand came up from his stomach to rub the back of his neck. “Ravik and Zion say I can’t talk that way to you.”
But then his blue eyes burned into mine. “Yet.”
My throat went dry.
But before I could respond, he asked, “C’mon, wanna take another walk?”
Yes. Yes, I absolutely wanted to not be in an enclosed space with Boone and whatever that conversation had been about to become.
“I’ll meet you at the path,” I told him before jogging into the house to grab my orange coat from the closet and pull on some leggings. Apparently, I also hadn’t noticed it was getting cold.
To my surprise, Ravik was jogging out of his house when I got to the path that went around most of the town. With a nod, he fell into step on the right side of me.
Silent. Thumbs hitched in his belt loops. But definitely walking with us.
“Nice evening,” Boone observed. “Montana’s beautiful, but I forgot how nice it is in Canada, too.”
“I agree. Though I’ve never been to Montana,” I answered.
We lightly chatted about Boone’s life there.
“Do you miss it?” For some reason, I could not stop violating my don’t get personal rule.
“Not at all,” he answered with an easy grin. “Weather’s even better here, and I can swim every morning, afternoon, and night without worrying about some humans who shouldn’t be on my private property reporting a polar bear. Polar bears like to swim.”
“Oh,” I said. Not sure how to respond to that.
Nobody spoke for a long time after that first spurt of conversation. There was just the crunch of gravel beneath our feet and the evening birds calling across the water.
At first, the silence felt awkward. I wished Zion was there with his excellent conversation skills and seemingly endless supply of stories, mini-lectures, and quippy observations to fill all the blank spaces.
But the longer we walked, the more comfortable I got with the rhythm of our steps, the cool evening air, and the way neither of them demanded anything from me.
Until, suddenly, I was... back at the cottage.
“I’ll come through later tonight,” Boone said when we reached the start of the gravel path leading back to my chosen home. “Just turn off all the lights when you’re ready for me to come over and take up my post. See ya, sugar.”
With that, he left me standing there with a wave of his hammy hand.
A new relief rushed through me, knowing I’d be allowed to spend my evening alone before Boone officially reported for sentry duty. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be up for old episodes of Britain’s Got Bakers and backstory gossip anyway.
However, I was also deeply, uncomfortably aware of Ravik’s presence still beside me. Which became even more awkward in Boone’s absence.
The sun was nearly all the way down, and the only lights on the path came from the cottage and the three houses surrounding it... in an unasked-for triangle of protection.
“Thank you,” I said finally. “For the wood-carving gouge. That was… very thoughtful.”
Ravik nodded once.
That was it. No “you’re welcome.” No explanation of how he’d known exactly what I needed. Just that single nod.
“Okay, good night.”
Another nod. He wasn’t wearing a Mountie uniform, being retired and all. But he was so stiff, it kind of felt like he was, even in jeans and a ribbon shirt.
I started awkwardly down the path toward the cottage, but I swear I could feel his eyes still on me, watching every step I took.
I didn’t want to look back. Told myself not to look back—right before I looked back.
Yep. Still there. Standing at the end of the path. Stern profile, hands clasped behind his back, legs spread slightly apart. Like he could issue somebody a ticket at any second. So rigid and cold.
But then Zion’s words echoed in my head: He never mutes his bond. There’s never any misunderstanding between us.
What must it be like, I wondered, to know what Ravik was thinking—what he felt like underneath that stern exterior? Was there truly any warmth hidden beneath all that rigid control?
Stupid, stupid questions.
This time, I didn’t look back.
No, I went inside my widow’s cottage and closed the door firmly on that line of thought, reminding myself that I’d never know.
And more importantly: I didn’t—shouldn’t—want to know.