Chapter 15
The rhythmic crunch of their boots against the packed dirt trail was the only sound between them for a while, each step marking their journey deeper into the forest. The crisp air carried every breath, every small shift of their gear, wrapping around them like a cocoon of solitude.
Bear stole another glance at Joy. This impromptu trip hadn’t been in his plans, but when the suggestion left his mouth yesterday, he knew instinctively it was exactly what they needed. He was willing to give Joy all the time she required to heal, even if that meant sleeping in that playhouse with her when she couldn’t make it up the stairs to his apartment—though his back had protested that damn cot something fierce.
The revelation had hit him last night: perhaps what they both needed was a completely new space . Somewhere away from Oak Creek, away from curious eyes and hushed whispers. Somewhere that was just theirs.
“Nice day for a hike, isn’t it?” Bear broke the comfortable silence, adjusting the weight of his pack.
Joy huffed out a laugh, her breath forming a small cloud in the cool air. “You know we’re going to freeze our asses off, right? Sleeping in a tent?”
Bear bit back a grin, keeping his eyes deliberately fixed on the trail ahead. “Where’s the enthusiasm, Bug?”
“Just…” She stepped over a fallen branch with exaggerated care. “November camping? Not exactly a spa getaway. I thought the playhouse was bad enough.”
“No one said anything about a spa.” He kept his voice casual, fighting the smile that threatened to break through.
She shot him a sideways look, mischief flashing in her green eyes. “Oh? No hot stone massages waiting for me at the campsite?”
“I’m sure we can find some rocks to throw in the fire,” he deadpanned.
“Damn.” Joy kicked at a pinecone, sending it skittering across the path. “What about one of those fancy bathtubs with the jets? I’ve got a lot of tension in my shoulders.” She rolled them exaggeratedly as if proving a point.
Bear watched the movement, his fingers itching to help with that particular problem. “Just keep walking, Davis.”
The forest thickened around them, sunlight filtering through the branches and casting dappled golden patches along the trail. Bear had always loved this section of the woods—secluded but not too remote, peaceful without feeling isolated. The familiar territory grounded him, while the company made it feel new.
He glanced back at Joy to find her steps gradually becoming looser, more fluid. The rigid tension that had been locked in her shoulders for weeks was visibly melting away with each mile they covered. Out here, away from everything, she was already starting to relax, to breathe more deeply.
“You want to lead for a bit?” he offered. “Stretch your legs?”
Joy moved ahead of him, her smile more genuine than he’d seen in weeks. “You sure you can keep up, old man?”
“Watch yourself, kid.”
She laughed—really laughed—the sound echoing through the trees before she pushed ahead, her ponytail swinging with each determined step, setting a pace that challenged him to follow.
The trees began to thin as they approached the last incline, and the sound of rushing water grew louder, announcing their destination before they could see it. Bear felt an unfamiliar weight of anticipation settle in his chest. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous—this place was solid, built with his own hands—but Joy’s opinion suddenly mattered more than it should.
When they crested the hill, the cabin came into view.
Joy stopped mid-step, her mouth parting slightly. “What the—” She turned to him, brows lifted in surprise. “Bear.”
He let the straps of his pack slide off his shoulders and stood silently, giving her time to take it all in.
The cabin was small but sturdy, nestled into the landscape like it had always belonged there. The river cut along the far edge of the clearing, its waters deep and fast enough to resist freezing even in the coldest months. The structure itself was built from locally milled timber, stained dark to blend with the surrounding forest. A stone chimney rose from the far side, where soon smoke would curl lazily into the sky.
“What is this place?” Joy’s voice had softened to almost a whisper. “I didn’t even know it was here.”
“That’s because it wasn’t.” Bear shifted his weight, suddenly feeling exposed. “I built it myself over the past eighteen months.”
“You built this?” Her tone held disbelief mingled with something that sounded like awe.
He shrugged, uncharacteristically self-conscious. “Yeah.”
Joy moved forward slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force. “I thought we were camping in a tent.”
“Figured this might be a little more comfortable.”
“Hell yeah.” She broke into a smile, rushing forward and letting out a breathless laugh as she reached the cabin, her fingers brushing reverently along the carved wooden railing of the small porch.
Bear followed, watching as she took in the details: the solar panel mounted on the roof to catch what light filtered through the treetops, the rain barrels lining the back of the structure. Most of the running water came straight from the river, filtered through a system he’d designed and built himself last spring.
At the door, Joy hesitated, glancing back at him with a silent question in her eyes.
Bear stepped forward, pushing the door open and gesturing for her to enter first.
The cabin’s interior was simple but warm—exactly how he’d planned it. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, and Bear immediately moved to it, building a fire to break the chill that had settled in the space. As the flames caught and grew, he watched Joy explore.
The main room held a sturdy wooden table he’d crafted himself, a love seat positioned near the fire, and a bed tucked against the far wall, layered with thick blankets against the November cold. Getting all the furniture up here had been a challenge, requiring multiple trips and considerable effort, but Bear had never minded hard work.
Joy was the only person he’d ever brought here. Not even his family knew about this place.
Her gaze landed on the kitchen setup—small but functional. A propane stove sat against one wall, open shelves lined with dry goods beside it. She approached the sink and turned the handle, eyes widening when water flowed from the faucet.
“You plumbed this place?” she asked, turning back to him with undisguised amazement.
Bear leaned against the doorframe, warmth spreading through his chest at her reaction. “Filtered river water. Gravity-fed system. Nothing fancy, but it works.”
Her eyes flicked toward the closed door off to the side.
“Shower’s in there,” he added. “Pipes run from the river, heated by a tank outside.”
“This is incredible,” she murmured, turning in a slow circle to take it all in again. “How did you do all this?”
Bear exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders. Yeah, this had definitely been the right choice.
“I did a little at a time,” he explained. “When I got out of the Marines, I needed a place that could be just mine. My family doesn’t even know about this cabin.”
Joy faced him fully then, her expression open and sincere. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me here. For sharing this with me.” Her voice softened. “My place that’s just mine is a lot less fancy than this, but I understand the need for it. You sharing this with me means so much.”
She did understand. Bear could see it in her eyes, feel it in the space between them. That meant everything to him too.
He cleared his throat, wanting to shift back to lighter ground. “Let’s go top off the firewood and water storage containers before it gets dark. Then we’ll settle back in here for dinner and get comfortable.”
There was still the best part of this place to show her, but that could wait until later. They deposited their packs on the kitchen chairs and headed back outside, the air noticeably cooler as afternoon deepened toward evening.
They walked for a while in companionable silence, moving through the woods as the forest settled into its evening rhythms. Only the rustling of leaves and the steady flow of the river broke the stillness around them. Bear watched as Joy moved ahead of him, stepping carefully over moss-covered roots, her ponytail bouncing with each step.
After filling the wood and water containers, they wandered away from the cabin, following an old game trail that led down toward the riverbank. Bear had walked these woods a hundred times alone, but seeing Joy here, relaxed and curious, made the familiar territory feel brand-new.
“Hold up.” He reached for her, his fingers brushing her hip as he stopped her.
She turned, eyebrows raised in question, and Bear used the excuse to step closer. He didn’t need to be this near, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Bobcat track.” He nodded toward the dirt near her boot.
Joy’s gaze flicked down to where he indicated, and she let out a small, impressed noise. “Nice catch, mountain man.”
“Hey, tracking animals is how I got my name.” His thumb grazed the waistband of her leggings before he reluctantly dropped his hand. “And it’s not my first time out here.”
She crouched, running her fingers lightly over the print. “I can’t believe you have an entire cabin out here. And water. A shower.” She turned her head, looking up at him with a playful smirk. “Are you sure you’re not some off-the-grid survivalist?”
Bear crouched beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Her smirk deepened, but she didn’t move away from the contact.
Something shifted in the air between them.
For the past hour, they’d been exploring—walking, laughing, touching more than strictly necessary—but now, something heavier permeated the atmosphere. Something charged with potential and unspoken desire.
Joy must have felt it too, because she straightened and turned fully to face him, her eyes locking on his. “Bear.”
That was all she said. Just his name. But damn if it didn’t send a current through his entire body.
Before he could think too hard about it, she reached for him.
Her hands slid up his chest, fingers gripping his shirt lightly before she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.
He sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily frozen by the unexpectedness of it.
She tasted like the cold air and something sweeter, something distinctly Joy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss, letting himself sink into the sensation he’d been craving for so long.
She curled her fingers tighter into his shirt, holding on like she feared he might disappear. He had no intention of going anywhere.
When she finally pulled back, her breath was warm against his lips, her hands still fisted in the fabric of his shirt.
“You know, this feels a little taboo,” he murmured, unable to resist teasing her.
Joy blinked, still looking dazed. “Huh? Us kissing again?”
Bear let his hands settle on her hips, squeezing lightly. “Me and you. Considering our history.”
Her brows pulled together in confusion. “What history?”
He made a show of sighing dramatically. “Us doing this when I used to be your babysitter.”
Joy blinked again, then snorted. “Bear.”
He nodded solemnly. “I mean, really, what does that make this? A scandal?”
Joy smacked his chest, her laughter breaking through. “You babysat me once when I was six and you were fourteen. Once. And only because my mom had to run to Reddington City and you were the first person she found to make sure I didn’t burn the house down.”
Bear grinned, enjoying the lightness returning to her expression. “Still counts. Taboo, I say. Taboo .”
She rolled her eyes, but she slid her hands up to the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair there. The gentle touch sent a shiver down his spine.
“You are ridiculous,” she muttered, then kissed him again, this time slower, more certain.
He groaned, pulling her closer, one hand slipping under the hem of her sweater, his palm pressing against the warm skin of her back.
Joy shivered against him, and it definitely wasn’t from the cold.
“Tell me this is a bad idea,” she whispered against his lips, the words barely audible over the rushing water nearby.
He exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. “Not a chance in hell.”