Chapter 25
Bear wiped down the polished oak counter at the Eagle’s Nest with broad, methodical strokes. There was never much of a rush on a Thursday night, and they were down to the usual handful of locals nursing their last drinks. Classic rock played at a low hum from the speakers, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter from the couple in the corner booth.
He glanced at the empty space where Joy should have been—weaving between tables with that easy smile, tossing jokes back and forth with the regulars. She’d taken tonight off to work on her food truck menu. The place felt different without her energy filling it.
“You going to stare at that same spot all night?” Hudson’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Bear looked up, realizing he’d been absently polishing the same section of wood for the past minute. “Just making sure it shines.”
“Uh-huh.” Hudson shot him a knowing look as he stacked clean glasses. “You know, when you offered to pick up shifts here, I thought it was because you enjoyed tending bar.”
“It is.”
“Funny how those shifts always lined up with Joy’s schedule.”
Bear didn’t bother denying it. “You complaining about the extra help?”
“Hell no,” Hudson chuckled. “Just amused at your complete lack of subtlety.”
Bear shrugged, tossing the rag into the sink. These shifts had never really been about bartending. They’d been about staying close to Joy. Now that she was doing better, he found himself missing her presence more than he’d expected.
“That asshole hit my storage shed again,” Hudson said, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Second time this month.”
Bear’s head snapped up. “What’d they take?”
“Couple broken umbrellas from the patio. Some scrap metal piping I was saving to fix the awning.” Hudson shook his head. “Nothing worth stealing.”
“Same pattern,” Bear muttered. “Callum mentioned similar thefts around town. My garage got hit too—old tires, tools from the supply closet.”
“Yeah, I heard the general store lost some wooden crates, and Fancy Pants Bakery had a broken ladder disappear.” Hudson frowned. “Who the hell steals junk?”
“Someone with a specific need,” Bear replied, eyes narrowing. “Or someone who doesn’t want to be noticed.”
“Well, they’re doing a piss-poor job of it. Whole town’s talking.”
“Talking, sure. But is anyone worried? It’s just junk, right?” Bear’s jaw tightened. “Nobody’s looking too hard for junk thieves.”
He thought about Daniel again. He’d seen the man walking out of Fancy Pants yesterday.
“You think there’s something else going on?”
“Don’t know. Just doesn’t feel right.” Bear shrugged. “I’ll talk to Callum again.”
Hudson made the last-call announcement, and soon everyone was filing out. Bear and Hudson began the closing routine they’d perfected over the past months. Chairs up, floors swept, register counted.
Hudson entered numbers into the register. “Joy called yesterday. Wants to cut back her shifts here. Ready to give her truck her full effort. Between her cutting hours and Sloane on maternity leave soon, I’m going be short-staffed as hell.” Hudson didn’t sound particularly upset. “But I’m happy for them both. That truck’s all Joy has talked about for years.”
“Town’s definitely buzzing about it.”
Hudson laughed. “Joy’s plan is to start with weekend brunches, then add days as demand grows.”
Between Joy’s food truck preparations and Bear’s increased workload at the garage, they’d barely seen each other the past two days. They were going to have to figure out a way to balance everything. Two nights without her were two too many.
Twenty minutes later, they stepped out into the crisp November night. Hudson locked the door behind them.
“Don’t forget about poker night on Tuesday,” Hudson called as he headed toward his jeep.
Bear raised a hand in acknowledgment, then turned toward his own vehicle—and stopped short.
Joy was leaning against his truck, hands tucked into the pockets of her denim jacket, her hair loose around her shoulders. The sight of her hit him square in the chest.
“Figured I’d walk you home for once,” she said with a half smile. “Make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”
Bear crossed to her in three long strides. Even in the dim streetlight, he could see the shadows under her eyes, the slight tightness around her mouth. Shit .
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Fine. Just a couple long days.” She leaned into his touch. “I’ve missed you.”
He decided not to push about what exactly long days meant. It may not be anything more insidious than having put in hard hours.
Instead, he pulled her to him, one hand sliding to the small of her back as he lowered his mouth to hers. She melted against him, her body fitting perfectly against his larger frame as she rose on her toes to deepen the kiss.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing harder, and the fatigue that had lined her face had been replaced by something warmer.
“I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips.
“Your place?” she suggested, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “It’s closer.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day.”
They drove the short distance to his apartment above the garage in comfortable silence, Joy’s hand resting on his thigh. He pulled into the side lot and killed the engine.
As they stepped out, Bear’s attention flew to the gate to the scrapyard. It was slightly ajar, moving in the light breeze.
He’d locked it. He always locked it.
“Bear?” He walked around the truck, Joy’s voice seeming distant as his senses heightened, focusing on the faint sounds coming from inside the fence.
Movement. Someone was in there.
He put a hand on Joy’s arm, motioning for her to stay quiet. “Someone’s breaking in to the scrapyard,” he whispered, nodding toward the gate. “Call Callum.”
Her eyes widened as she processed his words. “Breaking in? What do you?—”
“Just stay here, and call Callum.” He wasn’t missing his chance to catch this guy.
Before she could respond, he moved silently toward the gate, years of Marine training taking over. The moon provided just enough light to make out the intruder. Make that two . They were near the back of the yard, hunched over what looked like a pile of discarded auto parts.
They hadn’t spotted him yet.
The chain link fence creaked as Bear pushed the gate wider, and both heads snapped up. Bear couldn’t make them out with the hoods of their sweatshirts pulled so tightly around their heads. Without hesitation, they bolted—splitting in opposite directions.
“Hey!” Bear shouted. He paused for a second, not sure which one to chase, then broke into a run after the taller figure who’d headed toward the tree line behind the property. The other had run toward town.
The thief was fast, clearly familiar with the terrain as he darted between trees and leaped over fallen logs. Bear followed, his boots pounding against the cold earth, breath clouding in the night air.
The gap between them narrowed—Bear was gaining. Twenty feet. Fifteen. He could make out a dark hoodie, the flash of pale skin as the thief glanced back.
Then the figure veered sharply left, cutting through a dense patch of underbrush that Bear knew bordered the creek. By the time Bear navigated the thorny branches, his quarry had vanished into the darkness.
“Damn it,” he growled, spinning in a slow circle, listening intently for any sound of movement.
Nothing.
The night had swallowed the thief completely.
Bear had never been a sprinter, but he could hold his own. That son of a bitch was nimble as a damn gazelle. Frustration coursed through Bear as he started back toward the garage. Maybe he would’ve had better luck with the other one.
As he jogged, a sickening realization stopped him cold.
Joy. He’d left Joy alone. What if the second guy doubled back after her?
Cold fear replaced frustration as Bear broke into a full sprint again. What if Joy had panicked? What if she’d tried to confront him?
His mind cycled through increasingly horrific scenarios as he ran, his heart hammering against his ribs. He burst through the tree line, the garage coming into view, and scanned desperately for any sign of her.
The scrapyard gate stood wide open now, and relief hit him like a physical force when he spotted Joy inside, phone in one hand, flashlight in the other, methodically scanning the area.
She was safe. And she wasn’t frozen in fear, wasn’t curled in a corner—she was taking inventory.
“Joy,” he called, slightly breathless as he reached her.
She turned, relief washing over her face. “Thank God. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Lost him in the woods.” He gestured to her phone. “Callum coming?”
“Should be here any minute.” She swept the flashlight across a shelf of sorted parts. “It looks like they grabbed some copper wiring and aluminum scraps. That seems so odd. Why would someone take that?”
Joy seemed collected and calm. Obviously, some minor thefts weren’t going to throw her into a downward spiral as he’d been concerned about.
“Well, for the past couple of weeks?—”
His explanation about the burglaries was cut short by headlights sweeping across the yard as Callum’s sheriff’s vehicle pulled up, red and blue lights flashing once before going dark. Callum stepped out, his expression all business as he approached.
“What happened?” he asked, flashlight already in hand.
Bear quickly laid out the details—the interrupted break-in, the chase, the second suspect he didn’t pursue.
“Description?” Callum asked.
“Tall. Maybe six feet. Wearing a dark hoodie. Fast on rough terrain, knew these woods.” Bear shook his head. “Couldn’t get close enough for more details.”
Callum nodded, then turned to Joy. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Her voice was steady. “Bear took off like Superman, I don’t think they even saw me.”
“What did they take this time?” Callum asked, sweeping his light around the yard.
“Some aluminum scrap, looks like a few lengths of chain.” Bear frowned. “Same pattern as before. Only took from the junk pile. Nothing from inside the garage itself.”
Joy’s head snapped toward him, eyes tight. “ Before ? This has happened before?”
“Small thefts over the past couple weeks,” Bear explained, trying to keep his tone casual. “Nothing major. Just scrap and old equipment.”
“From multiple places around town,” Callum added. “Small stuff. Nothing worth filing a full report over.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this?” Joy’s question was directed at Bear, her voice deliberately even.
“I didn’t want to freak you out,” he replied, knowing immediately it was the wrong answer.
Joy’s eyes flashed with something that looked like anger mixed with hurt. The temperature between them seemed to drop several degrees.
Callum nodded. “Bear, I need a complete list of what’s missing. And a statement from you both about what you saw.” He was already backing toward his vehicle. “I’ll swing by tomorrow for the details. I’m going into town to see if we get lucky with the second guy.”
With a quick nod to them both, he was gone, leaving Bear and Joy standing in the scrapyard, the sudden silence thick with tension.
“You didn’t tell me this was happening.” Her voice was quiet but held a dangerous edge.
“I didn’t want to give you more weight to carry,” Bear said, aware of how hollow that sounded even to his own ears. “It was just junk. Petty theft.”
“You kept this from me because you thought I couldn’t handle it.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“No,” she cut him off, stepping back when he reached for her. “You were treating me like I’m broken. Like I’d fall apart at the first sign of trouble.”
“That’s not true,” Bear insisted, frustration building in his chest. “I just didn’t want to pile something else on when you’ve been doing so well. Didn’t want you to end up back in the playhouse.”
She flinched and edged farther away from him. Fuck . He shouldn’t have said that.
“Bug, I didn’t mean it like that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant, but he knew that was a facade. “How did you mean it?”
“I didn’t want to add to your paranoia.” Goddamn it. That wasn’t the right thing to say either.
“You think I’m weak. Too fragile to help you with your problems.”
“No.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Joy, I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
She shook her head. “I need to go home.”
“Don’t leave like this. We should talk.”
“Not tonight.” Her voice was firm. “I need some space to think.”
Bear knew that look. Pushing now would only make things worse. “At least let me drive you.”
“I’ll walk.”
“It’s nearly midnight, and we just had a break-in.”
Joy’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Fine. Drive me home. But I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
The drive to Joy’s house was painfully silent. He gripped the steering wheel, searching for the right words, but everything he came up with sounded like an excuse. When he pulled into her driveway, she was out of the truck before he’d fully stopped.
“Joy—” he started.
“Not now.” She paused at her front door, her expression unreadable in the darkness. “I need to process that the man I trust most in this world doesn’t feel like he can trust me .”
She closed the door behind her with a quiet click that somehow hurt more than if she’d slammed it.
He sat in his truck, staring at her darkened house. He’d messed up—badly. In trying to protect her, he’d managed to do the exact opposite.
The night air bit at his skin as he finally stepped out of the truck, checking the perimeter of her property before heading back home. Her safety was always going to be his priority, whether they were arguing or not.
One thought kept circling in his mind as he finished and drove away: he’d been so focused on not letting the past hurt Joy again that he might have damaged their future instead.