Chapter 2
Bear pressed his shoulders against the rough brick wall of the Eagle’s Nest, shrouded in the darkness just beyond the back door’s dim light. The muffled thrum of music and conversation seeped through the walls, the neon beer sign above the door casting flickers of red light onto the pavement. His breath misted in the cold night air, but he barely noticed. His focus was locked on the door, waiting for her.
Joy.
He’d been here every night she’d worked since the attack, regardless of whether he’d had a shift or not, but had mostly kept his distance. He didn’t know if it was guilt or something deeper driving him. Maybe both. All he knew was that he couldn’t leave her to walk home alone, even if she didn’t know he was watching.
Hell, he wasn’t sure she even wanted him around at all. Deep down, she had to blame him—at least partly—for what had happened that night. If he’d just let their kiss turn into everything it had promised to become instead of playing the noble hero…
The door creaked open, pulling him back from his thoughts. There she was, shrugging into her coat, her petite frame swallowed by the oversized denim jacket. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze darting into the darkness, head jerking back and forth, looking for some unknown predator.
She did that nearly every night. And it had punched him in the gut every time to see it.
Joy had been fearless her whole life, the girl who rode her bike too fast and laughed too loud. The one who rarely ever stopped to think of the consequences of any given action.
Now, she was unnaturally cautious, her confidence replaced by unease.
He wasn’t sure what caused him to move tonight rather than stay in the shadows. Maybe seeing how she’d struggled when those glasses had shattered. Maybe it was because he just couldn’t stand it any longer.
Her steps faltered the moment he moved into the light. Her eyes widened, her body tensing like a startled deer ready to bolt. His gut clenched at the fear flickering across her face.
“Sorry, Bug,” he said quickly, using the familiar nickname from when she was a kid, keeping his tone low and calm. He raised his hands slightly, palms out, hoping to ease her. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She exhaled sharply, clutching her bag tighter to her chest. “Bear?” Her voice was wary. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” he admitted. “I wanted to walk you home.”
Her brows knit together, the wary look melting into something closer to irritation. “I don’t need you to?—”
“I know you don’t,” he interrupted gently. “But humor me, okay? It’s late.”
She shifted on her feet, the spark of the old Joy—the one who wouldn’t take anyone’s crap—flickering for just a moment. But then it slid away as she sighed. “It’s only a few blocks.”
“And I’m only a few steps behind you.” He tried for a grin, but her lack of response made it falter.
His heart twisted as he watched her, so different from the vibrant, mischievous girl he’d known his whole life. She wasn’t supposed to look this small. This uncertain. She wasn’t supposed to be afraid of the shadows—or him.
Hell, this woman wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said again. “Won’t happen again.”
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, though she still avoided his gaze. “You didn’t scare me.”
That was a lie, but Bear didn’t call her on it. He just waited as she nodded, brushed past him, and started walking. “All right. If you want to waste time walking me home, you can, Bollinger.”
“It’s not a waste, but yes, I do.” He fell into step beside her.
The quiet streets of Oak Creek stretched before them, lit only by the occasional streetlamp. He matched his longer strides to her shorter ones, aware of every sound, every shadow, around them. Not that such diligence was necessary. Joy’s incident notwithstanding, there wasn’t a lot of violence in Oak Creek.
“Although I suppose I could be persuaded to carry you piggyback home instead,” he said. “For old times’ sake. Or run full speed. Skip. Hell, karate-kick down the block.”
She’d been known for all those things. He remembered her skipping around him as they’d walked home just a month ago.
She snorted. “In your dreams. I’m not eight anymore, you know.”
Yeah, he’d definitely fucking noticed.
What he wouldn’t give to hear her laugh for real again. To see that dazzling, slightly wicked grin light up her face as she tossed out some sassy remark. She’d always burned so bright. Brave and wild and full of life. It killed him to see her dimmed like this, the shadows under her eyes almost as dark as the purple bruises that had marred her jaw for two weeks from where that bastard had hit her.
Anger boiled in his blood again, and Bear forced it down hard. He had to stay calm for her. Be the steady, solid presence she needed right now. Even if it meant locking away all the violent feelings churning through him.
Even if it meant just being her friend, when they’d been at the precipice of being so much more.
“You know, everyone’s been really worried about you,” he said, picking his words carefully as they walked. “We just want to help however we can, Bug. I want to help.”
“I know.” She kicked at a rock, sending it skittering across the asphalt. She didn’t look at him. “I appreciate it. I think I just need a little time. I’m definitely getting better every day.”
Everything in him wanted to believe that, but he was pretty positive he couldn’t.
Searching for a safe topic, he cleared his throat. “How’s the food truck coming along? Last time I saw it, you’d just finished the fryer install.”
Joy blinked, seemingly startled by the question. “Oh. Um, it’s… I haven’t really worked on it much lately. Been busy with…with stuff.”
“Yeah? What sort of stuff?”
She shrugged. “The usual.”
“Just seems like a waste to let your dream sit there unused when it’s so close to fruition. You’ve worked so hard to get the truck. I’ve been looking forward to Tex-Mex for months.”
“Oh man, I didn’t tell you, did I?” She stopped and smacked his arm, her green eyes getting wide. “Actually, I’ve decided to go in a different direction rather than Tex-Mex.”
She sounded so much like her old self that his heart damn near leaped out of his chest. “Really? Tell me. I fucking hate tacos anyway.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips since they both knew he’d never met a taco he didn’t like. “A new idea hit me a while ago, but it’s a little outside of the box.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I know this is going to sound a little weird, but—” She cut off as two cats bounded across the sidewalk right in front of them.
She didn’t shriek. Didn’t jump. But the sudden movement of the animals effectively shut off whatever bit of old Joy had been trying to break through. She stopped talking.
“Wait.” He was damned near desperate to get the moment back. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She shrugged one small shoulder—the one that hadn’t been dislocated a month ago. “Never mind. I’m not sure any of it will work out anyway.”
Damn it. The moment was gone for good. He still tried to get her to talk.
“Tex-Mex or not, you’re still doing it, right? Oak Creek needs a good food truck.” While he was pretty sure that was true, Bear knew he needed a Joy food truck.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I just… It’s been hard to think about it.”
“I could come by next week, help you knock out some of those fixes. Bet we could get that thing road-ready in no time.” He kept his tone light, but his eyes traced her face intently.
She bit her lip. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on.”
She’d always been the social butterfly, involved with anything happening in the town. Hell, she was usually the one who planned half of those social events. Sitting at home had never been her style.
But despite her busy calendar, she’d always made time to work on the truck before, because it was her future. Ignoring the truck now, especially when he knew it wasn’t because she was busy, concerned him more than he was willing to admit.
“Just a few hours,” he coaxed, bumping his elbow gently against hers. “I’ll even throw in lunch. Wherever you want, my treat.”
Her brow furrowed and she glanced away. “I appreciate the offer, Bear, really. I just… I can’t make any promises right now.”
He wanted to push, to find the magic words that would break through her hesitation. But he made himself nod. “No worries. Offer’s always open, though. Whenever you’re ready.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, there and gone in a heartbeat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Speaking of showing up,” Bear said as they turned onto Maple Street, “you are coming to the Polar Plunge tomorrow at Pike’s Peak, right? Whole town’ll be there.”
Joy’s steps faltered. “Is that tomorrow already? I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Come on, Bug. It’s tradition. You’re practically the guest of honor.”
She snorted, though the sound lacked her usual humor. “That’s not true.”
“You’re the reason it exists,” he countered. “You jumped into that lake on a dare ten years ago and started the whole thing.”
“That was a dumbass thing to do,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“Maybe. But it was memorable.” Just like she was. “And it gave this town one of its best customs.”
When most people thought of Pike’s Peak, they were thinking of the mountain in Colorado. But for Oak Creek, Pike’s Peak was an old quarry lake. The water was cold year-round, but especially in November. Joy had jumped in when she was fourteen on a dare, and then everyone had built a huge bonfire to defrost her.
A tradition had been born. Now, half the town jumped in on the first Saturday of November at sunset. Then it became a huge bonfire party afterward.
“I don’t know.”
“Face it, Davis, you’re a local legend.”
She snorted. “Hardly. Anyway, I think I’ll sit this year out. Let someone else be legendary for a change.”
He couldn’t stand the thought of her not being there. “C’mon, you’ve got to go. It’s my favorite day of the whole year.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “I would’ve thought that was the opposite.”
He knew what she was thinking about. He was thinking about it too. He’d thought about it for years, even though he shouldn’t.
But he knew not to bring it up now. He shrugged, trying for casual. “The Polar Plunge is fun. Everyone together, a little bit of crazy before winter fully sets in. Bonfire, freezing water, bad decisions. All thanks to you. What’s not to love?”
“I don’t know, maybe the freezing and bad decision-making parts?”
“Are you kidding? That’s what everyone loves. Oh, you’re going,” he said confidently. “You don’t get to quit your own tradition.”
Joy shook her head, but that tiny smile lingered. “We’ll see.”
Bear grinned. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a definite no. For tonight, he’d take it.
Her house came into view, its small, familiar shape framed by the glow of the porch light. Bear’s stomach tightened at the sight of it. The place was pure Joy—quirky and welcoming, with flower boxes still clinging to a few brave sprigs of green, despite the season. But he couldn’t ignore how hollow it seemed now, how much it felt like it had lost its heart.
Joy hesitated at the gate, her hand hovering over the latch. Bear stopped a few steps behind her, watching the tension ripple through her body.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded quickly, but the way her fingers trembled told a different story. Bear stayed silent, letting her gather herself. He wasn’t here to push—just to be ready when she needed him.
The air between them grew heavy, and his thoughts drifted. He’d always thought of Joy as unshakable, a force of nature wrapped in fiery energy. But the attack had stolen that, leaving her raw and uncertain.
His chest tightened. He wanted to fix it, to bring back the fearless girl who’d tried to seduce him under the stars at the Polar Plunge bonfire all those years ago.
But what if she never came back?
Bear shook off the thought. No. That wasn’t an option. Joy wasn’t gone; she was just buried beneath the weight of what had happened. And he’d wait as long as it took to help her find herself again.
She didn’t move from the gate, her hand still hovering over the latch. Bear could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her grip on her bag had turned her knuckles white.
“Want me to come in and check the place out before you lock up?” he asked gently.
She stiffened, not looking at him. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
He frowned but kept his tone steady. “It’s late, Joy. No harm in making sure everything’s good.”
“I don’t need you to do that,” she said sharply, her voice hardening as she pushed the gate open. “I’ve got it.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it. But I know from experience that it’s easier to face the unknown when you’re not doing it alone. In the Marines, we never went into a situation blind. Clearing a space as a team wasn’t about fear—it was about confidence. I just want you to feel secure.”
Her back was still to him, but he saw her head dip slightly, her fingers fidgeting with her keys. She didn’t answer, and Bear pressed on, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to do it all on your own, Joy. And you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. Not with me.”
Finally, she turned, her green eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite read. “I can handle it, Bear. I have to.”
Before he could respond, she slipped the rest of the way up the steps, unlocking the door with quick, jerky movements. She paused just long enough to glance back at him, her expression a mix of apology and resolve. Then she stepped inside and closed the door softly, the lock clicking into place.
Bear stood staring at the door for a long moment. He exhaled slowly, turning to head back down the walk. She could shut him out tonight, but he wasn’t giving up.
Not on her.