4. My Bear is Gone
MY BEAR IS GONE
My heart pinches at the empty shed. Everything I brought to care for the man who once lay inside is gone.
“Man” sounds too old. But his body was definitely mature.
His shoulders were so broad compared to his waist, and his arms were defined with muscles.
He couldn’t shave, and scruff formed, giving him a rugged edge that contrasted with his designer clothes, even in their torn state.
When he was in and out of consciousness, I asked him his age.
He doesn’t know he confessed he’s twenty-two.
Even though I’m young compared to him, I felt like we connected on some level.
I asked him his name too, but he didn’t answer.
For now, I’ll call him Bear. My big, beaten, and battered grizzly bear.
I can’t say I know what he looks like for sure with how swollen his face had still been when he left, but I could tell he was handsome—like ridiculously handsome.
His eyelids hung—possibly from the swelling—in a sultry way, like Elvis Presley.
Amara and her daughter, Noah, are fans of the once King of Rock & Roll.
The term they use is bedroom eyes. I never thought much about it until Bear.
His nose was slightly crooked, but only if you studied it like I did.
Could have been recent from the beating.
His sculpted cheekbones, as puffy as they were, still belonged on a model’s face.
His brown brows were much darker than his lighter hair, but I wouldn’t say he’s blond.
Dirty blond, maybe. When he opened his eyes and I finally got to see the color, I had to fight not to smile.
I imagined he’d have blue eyes, but this shade reminded me of bluebells that grow in the wild.
The flower is my favorite. I love the delicate bell-shaped petals and how they hang as if sad when, in fact, the blooms are thriving.
I didn’t know they were my favorite until we moved here, and I stumbled upon a large flowerbed growing in the nearby woods.
The pop of blue against the green leaves and dark tree trunks mesmerized me, much like Bear’s eyes.
That discovery led me to download the free plant identifier app, so I could learn the names of such precious wildflowers.
Now, my Bear is gone, back to wherever he came from. Part of me wonders if any of it was real. Who’d believe a story like that?
But the indent in the shed from where he laid for four days is still there.
And if I sniff, I can almost smell his cologne.
The rich scent of musk, spice, and orange was faint.
I hadn’t gotten a good whiff until I got up in his business when I had to move him.
I got to enjoy the delicious aroma again the night before he left when I sat beside him.
Eventually, I fell asleep with my head against his big arm.
When I woke up, he was asleep too. It was too early in the morning for me to stay any longer, so I left with a whispered goodbye and returned to my bedroom, where I sneaked in through the window.
I had end-of-year exams the next day and couldn’t skip school anymore to be with him. By the time I got to the shed that afternoon, he was gone, as if he’d never existed. But I’ll never forget him, and maybe someday, fate be willing, we’ll meet again.
August - one week later
Wes, 21
Blue skies meet a cliff that drops to a rolling ocean outside the tall windows of my room. The sun is rare in the highlands of Scotland. Bed-bound as I am, the peaceful view does little to ease my bruised ribs or lift my sour spirits.
My father controls my trust fund like he devised when he got me to sign the agreement before the fight.
I haven’t lost a match in four years. Three guys against one meant I didn’t stand a chance.
I knew he was up to something, but I never suspected he intended to kill me.
I’m not penniless, as was his plan, I’m sure.
Past winnings have left me with a sizable bank account.
The few million I have is nothing compared to the forty million my father cheated me out of, but it’s enough to do what I need until I make more.
After Lachlan rescued me from the garden at Hale Manor, he arranged private medical treatment for me and then brought me to Duhnill, his family’s castle, far from my father in Dorset.
Lachlan owed me for helping him escape a kidnapping attempt from his sadistic uncle a year ago, but he would have saved me regardless. He’s loyal in that way.
Fable did a good job healing me. The doctor said I would have died from dehydration, and the risk of infection had she not cleaned my wounds and cared for me.
She’s an angel. As soon as I’m fully healed, I plan to make good on what I vowed to do for her.
My angel. She might have been just seventeen, but she was mature in ways only a person who has experienced trauma could be.
I hate that her dad was the person to inflict that trauma on her.
I’ll enjoy killing him, and before I do, I’ll make sure he knows the reason.