Chapter 21
Bear couldn’t sleep.
The problem wasn’t insomnia—he was exhausted in the best possible way. The problem was that he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Not when Joy was curled against him, her breath warm against his chest, her hair spilling across his arm like fire in the dim light.
He’d be damned if he was going to miss a single moment of this.
He traced lazy patterns up and down her spine, savoring the softness of her skin. The midnight-blue lingerie lay scattered across the floor, a tangible reminder that Joy Davis had completely and utterly rocked his world tonight.
Not that he should have been surprised. Everything about Joy had always been a revelation.
But the lingerie… Christ. The memory of her standing there, silk robe pooled at her feet, that delicate lace hugging every curve, those garters connecting to stockings that made her legs look a mile long—it had nearly brought him to his knees.
The image was seared into his brain: Joy, with her fiery confidence and that hint of vulnerability in her eyes as she’d revealed this hidden part of herself. The way the midnight blue had contrasted with her creamy skin, how the material had caught the light when she moved. How she’d stood there, not hiding, not ashamed, but proud. Waiting for his reaction.
In all his fantasies about Joy over the years—and there had been many—he’d never imagined this. The reality of her had surpassed anything his mind could have conjured.
It wasn’t because he hadn’t known she was beautiful. He’d always known that.
But because in that moment, seeing her that way, he’d seen all of her. The wild-child tomboy who’d jump into freezing water on a dare. The fierce woman who’d fought back against men twice her size. The artist who’d hand-painted delicate flowers on her food truck. The secret-keeper who’d been collecting lingerie for years, waiting for the right moment to share that side of herself.
She’d trusted him with all of it. With all of her.
And just like that, the last wall inside him crumbled.
He was in love with her. Not just attracted to her—though God knew he was. Not just fond of her or protective of her or invested in her healing. He was in love with her, so completely that it terrified him. Had been for longer than he could admit, even to himself.
Maybe it had started all those years ago when she’d tried to seduce him at the lake, all flash and fire and teenage bravado. Or maybe it had been building for a lifetime—from the little girl who’d followed him around, to the teenager who’d challenged him at every turn, to the woman who now fit against him like she’d been made to be there.
Or maybe it was simply inevitable—as natural and unstoppable as gravity.
He studied her face in the soft glow from the streetlamp outside her window. The freckles scattered across her nose that she used to hate but he’d always found endearing. The small scar near her eyebrow from when she’d fallen out of a tree at nine years old. The curve of her lips that seemed permanently ready to either smile or sass him.
How many times had he imagined this? Being with her like this? Too many to count. But the reality of it—the weight of her against him, the vanilla scent of her hair, the quiet intimacy of lying in her bed after making love to her—was better than any daydream.
Joy shifted in his arms, pressing closer, and Bear tightened his hold instinctively. Her curves molded against the harder planes of his body, perfect counterpoints. Yin and yang.
The house creaked around them, settling for the night. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees in her yard, a gentle backdrop to the rhythm of her breathing. It was peaceful. Perfect. A moment he never wanted to end.
Her breath was steady, but as he finally started to drift toward sleep, he felt it—the subtle change in her body. A tension that hadn’t been there moments before. The almost imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders, the slight catch in her breathing pattern.
Bear didn’t move, didn’t startle her. Just whispered into the darkness, “You good, Bug?”
Joy stayed still for a long moment, then let out a shallow breath. “Yeah.”
She wasn’t.
“Talk to me,” he murmured, keeping his voice soft. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Her voice was tight, belying her words.
Bear brushed his thumb across her shoulder, feeling the delicate bone beneath warm skin. “You don’t have to be fine. Not with me.”
She was silent for so long that he thought she might not answer. Then, finally, “I just realized…this is the first night I’ve spent in this house since the attack. I’ve been either out in the playhouse or at your apartment.”
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. How had he forgotten? It was a huge adjustment.
“Joy,” he breathed, tightening his hold on her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think?—”
“No,” she interrupted, shifting to look up at him. “I didn’t either, until just now when I heard the wind and the normal creaks of the house. And it’s okay. I’m okay. It just…hit me, that’s all.”
In the faint moonlight filtering through her curtains, he could see the wariness in her eyes. Not fear exactly, but a heightened awareness—like her body was remembering even if her mind had temporarily forgotten.
Bear’s chest tightened. “Tell me about that night.”
It wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He’d meant to reassure her, to tell her he was here, that she was safe. But maybe that wasn’t what she needed to hear right now.
Joy tensed against him, then exhaled slowly. “Why?”
“Because you haven’t talked about it. Not really. And maybe you need to.” He knew for a fact that she hadn’t gone to a therapist.
She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze drifting past him to the shadows on the ceiling. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning.”
Joy’s fingers absently traced circles against his chest as she gathered her thoughts. Her touch was light, almost distracted, as if she was already slipping back into the memory.
“I woke up because I heard something. Not a crash or anything dramatic. Just…something different. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there. I’ve been in this house my whole life. My mind knows when something isn’t normal.”
Bear listened, his hand continuing its gentle rhythm against her back, anchoring her to him. He focused on keeping his breathing steady, creating a calm counterpoint to the tension he could feel building in her body.
“I wasn’t scared, not at first,” she continued, her voice low in the darkness. “More confused, I guess. Wondering if Sloane was okay. If it was something with the baby. I got up to check, and I saw a shadow in the living room. That’s when I knew someone was in the house.”
“What did you do?”
“Grabbed my handy-dandy bat.” A short, humorless laugh escaped her. “I remember thinking I was going to teach whoever it was a lesson they’d never forget.”
Bear’s lips curved slightly, despite the heaviness of the conversation. That was pure Joy—fearless, even when she should have been afraid.
“It never even crossed my mind that I wouldn’t be able to handle it,” she admitted, her voice smaller now. “I’ve always been able to do whatever I set my mind to, you know? Always been tough. Always taken on the challenge. So, I charged in there, thinking…”
“That you’d be able to protect yourself,” Bear finished gently. “Of course you did. You’ve always been that way, Bug. It’s not surprising.”
Joy’s breath hitched, and he felt her swallow hard against his chest. “But I couldn’t.” She swallowed again. “I couldn’t handle it. Not even close.”
“Tell me.” He knew the basics but not the details.
Her voice dropped even lower, almost as if she was afraid the house might hear her, might remember. “The Kozak brothers. Nikola had Sloane. Jakob was closer, so I came at him with the bat and—” She stopped, her fingers curling against Bear’s chest, nails biting lightly into his skin.
The small pain grounded him, kept him present instead of lost in the rage that simmered beneath his skin at the thought of those men in her house. Hurting her.
The Kozak brothers had run a kidnapping ring in Europe. They’d kidnapped Sloane and her half sister then come after Sloane here in Oak Creek weeks later when she’d escaped their clutches over there.
“It all happened so fast. One second, I was swinging. The next, the bat was out of my hands, and I was… I was flying through the air. I hit the wall, and—” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t breathe. My ribs… I knew something was broken.”
Bear’s jaw clenched, but he forced his body to stay relaxed, not to betray the fury churning inside him at the thought of anyone hurting her. His hand continued its slow, soothing rhythm along her spine, even as every muscle in his body wanted to tense.
“Nikola grabbed Sloane. Had a knife to her throat.” Her words were coming faster now, tumbling out like she couldn’t hold them back. “I tried to get up. To help her. But Jakob kept hitting me. My face, my side. I couldn’t—” She broke off again.
The silence stretched between them, filled only with the sound of her slightly ragged breathing and the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
“It’s okay,” Bear murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to?—”
“No, I need to say it.” Joy took a steadying breath. “It wasn’t just the pain, Bear. It was…feeling helpless. I’ve never felt that way before. Like I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t protect myself, couldn’t protect Sloane, couldn’t even stay conscious.”
Bear closed his eyes, his heart aching for her. To have that taken from her, to be rendered helpless—he understood why that was the part that haunted her most.
“I was entertainment for them. They were hurting me for the pure enjoyment of it. Jakob was fixated on my smile. Let’s see how that smile would look without your teeth. Your smile would make a wonderful trophy. Such a shame to see that smile wasted on a corpse. He said all that. It was like hearing it from underwater.”
Because of the pain. The fear. The damage to her body. Vomit pooled in Bear’s gut. No wonder smiling had been so hard for her since the attack.
“They left me to die.” Her voice was a whisper now. She shook her head. “And the worst part is, I thought the same thing. I really thought I was going to die there on the floor. That I’d failed Sloane. That her baby would die because I hadn’t been strong enough or smart enough to help.”
“Joy—”
“And I hate even saying that to you,” she rushed on, struggling to sit up now, pulling away from him. The sheet fell to her waist, leaving her bare in the moonlight, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I know what you went through. The explosion, your scars, your hearing. My wounds ended up being relatively minor in the end. I shouldn’t be this messed up over?—”
“Stop.” Bear sat up too, gently turning her to face him. The moonlight caught the curve of her shoulder, the line of her collarbone. Even now, in the midst of this heavy conversation, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. “This isn’t the Pain Olympics. Just because I’ve known pain too doesn’t diminish yours. What happened to you was traumatic. Full stop.”
She stared at him, eyes wide in the darkness.
“You have every right to be affected by it, even now,” he continued, cupping her face in his hands. Her skin was warm beneath his palms, slightly damp with the beginnings of tears she was fighting back. “Hell, I’d be more worried if you weren’t. That wouldn’t be normal.”
Something in her expression shifted—relief, maybe. Like she’d been carrying this guilt all this time, thinking she should be over it by now. That she should be stronger, faster, better.
“I hate feeling that way,” she admitted softly. “Helpless. Like I’m not in control. That’s the part that haunts me.”
“Do you know what haunts me most about the explosion?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
She shook her head, eyes still locked with his.
“Not the pain. Not the scars. It was the fact that I couldn’t help the other guys in my unit. That I was pinned under debris, ears ringing so loud I couldn’t hear their calls for help.” He paused, letting the admission sink in. “Being helpless in the face of danger—it’s one of the worst feelings in the world.”
Joy’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing her face.
“So, I get it,” he continued. “I really do. But sweetheart, you didn’t fail.”
She frowned. “Of course I?—”
“No.” His voice was firm. “You were outnumbered. Outweighed. They had weapons. And still, you fought back. You stayed conscious long enough to call 9-1-1.”
Joy’s brow furrowed. “But it took so long to get to my phone. I barely?—”
“But you did it. And because of that call, Sloane is alive. Her baby is alive.” Bear held her gaze steadily. “That’s not failure, Joy. That’s courage. That’s refusing to give up.”
She stared at him, something like hope flickering in her eyes. The moonlight caught the green flecks in them, making them luminous.
“You know what I see when I look at you?” he asked softly.
She shook her head.
“I see someone who’s been through hell and is still standing. Who’s learning to ask for help when she needs it. Who’s finally starting to talk about what happened instead of trying to bury it.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones. “That’s not weakness, Bug. That’s real strength.”
Her eyes glistened in the dim light, but the tears didn’t fall.
“We’ll keep working on your self-defense,” he continued. “You’re already stronger than you were. And honestly? The fact that you’re back in this house tonight is huge.”
“Yeah?” Her voice was small.
“Yeah.” He pressed his forehead to hers. Their breath mingled in the small space between them, intimate and warm. “And you know what else I think is vital to the healing process?”
He felt her hold her breath, so he continued. “Regular use of lingerie. Preferably multiple times a week.”
Joy stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing—a real laugh, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners and drove away the shadows that had been lurking there.
“I’m serious,” he insisted, trying to keep a straight face. “I read a very scientific study on it. Extremely technical. Lots of big words.”
She laughed harder, shoving at his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Excuse me. I prefer the term medically informed .”
Joy shook her head, but the tension had drained from her body. Her shoulders relaxed, the tight line of her mouth softening. Even her breathing had changed, returning to the steady rhythm of before.
He pulled her back down to the mattress, and she curled into his side like she belonged there. Maybe she did. Her head found the spot just above his heart, her arm draped across his torso, one leg tangled with his.
“Thank you,” she murmured against his chest.
Bear stroked her hair, feeling her body grow heavier against him as she slipped toward sleep. “For what?”
“For listening. For being here. For not treating me like I’m broken.”
His throat tightened, emotion welling up that threatened to overflow. “You’re not broken, Joy. You’re healing. There’s a difference.”
She hummed softly, already half-asleep. “I like you, Bollinger.”
Bear smiled into the darkness, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I like you too, Bug.”
But it was so much more than that. So much more than she was ready to hear, maybe. Or maybe more than he was ready to say out loud.
So instead, he held her close as she drifted to sleep, his heart full with everything he felt for her, everything he wanted to tell her. And for now, that was enough.
He’d tell her tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.
They had time.
For the first time in weeks, maybe in years, Bear Bollinger felt like he could finally breathe. Like maybe he’d found his home too.
Right here, with Joy in his arms, the world seemed to right itself. The constant ringing in his ears dimmed to the faintest whisper, overtaken by the sound of her breathing. The ache of old scars faded beneath the warmth of her touch.
And in the quiet darkness of her bedroom—her house that she’d reclaimed—Bear finally let himself close his eyes. Not because he didn’t want to look at her anymore, but because he knew with absolute certainty that she’d still be there when he opened them.