8. Rafael
Rafael
I walked fast, jaw tight, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my jacket. The door to Wolf and Whisk shut behind me with a muted jingle, but the echo of that guy’s voice still rang in my ears.
“I knew it. You’re from Ironfalls, aren’t you?”
My lungs burned, though the air was cool. I hadn’t realized how hard my chest was clenching until I tried to breathe. I wanted to hit something.
Not someone though maybe, if that guy had stayed just a second longer, I might’ve given in to that urge. And what then? I’d prove him right. Violent bear. Dangerous. A threat.
I turned a corner too sharp, boots scuffing against the sidewalk, and nearly collided with a lamppost.
I caught myself with one hand against the cold metal and stared at my reflection in the glass window beside me. And there it was. The look I hated most. Not anger. Not even guilt. Shame.
James had looked at me differently. Not with fear exactly. He wasn’t the type to scare easily, but with that cautious curiosity.
Like he suddenly realized he’d invited a loaded gun into his shop, and he wasn’t quite sure if the safety was on. I blew out a shaky breath and scrubbed a hand down my face.
Sean and the other bears knew where Beau and I came from. We didn’t exactly wear it like a badge of honor, but we never lied about it either. Ironfalls wasn’t something you could just erase.
It wasn’t some tiny backwoods clan. It was infamous for a reason. Bears born of stone and rage, half-feral with a taste for blood and power. I wasn’t even one of the worst of them. Not close.
But I’d still walked those streets, wore the clan tattoo on my skin, fought in the clan challenge pit for rank. The fight that guy brought up? It wasn’t even the worst one.
It was just the one someone remembered.
I gritted my teeth and kept walking. My apartment wasn’t far, but every step felt heavier than it should have. What if James told the others? Would Callum ban me from the Wolf and Whisk?
No. That wasn’t what bothered me most. What gutted me was the look in James’s eyes. The way something subtle in him pulled back, even if he didn’t mean to.
He was trying. He’d been trying from the start. He was flirting, joking, baking those terrible cupcakes that I ate anyway like a lovesick fool.
He was the kind of person who wore his heart on his sleeve, even when it was bruised. And I’d spent the last few weeks watching him, wanting him, feeling like maybe I deserved him.
But who the hell did I think I was?
I shoved open the stairwell door and took the stairs two at a time.
The familiar scent of flour and old wood followed me up to my floor. I unlocked my apartment, stepped inside, and slammed the door behind me harder than necessary.
Silence. I stood there in the dark a moment, leaning against the door like it was the only thing keeping me upright. He knows now.
No one outside of Bear and Bun had known. I didn’t tell anyone because... well, because I didn’t want to be defined by it anymore. But Ironfalls clung to you like smoke.
Like blood under your nails. You could scrub and scrub and still feel it in your bones.
I kicked off my boots, tossed my jacket onto the couch, and moved automatically to the kitchen. The taste of burnt frosting still lingered from James’s cupcake. It had been awful. And I’d eaten two.
Idiot. I leaned both hands on the counter, arms shaking. Why didn’t he tell the others about that guy bothering him? Why keep it a secret? Was he afraid they’d think less of him?
Then again, wasn’t I doing the same?
Wouldn’t I do the same if I were in his shoes? The answer was yes. Hell yes. I would’ve tried to solve it myself, and if I couldn’t, only then would I go to Beau. Maybe.
James had no one but his pack and if he couldn’t lean on them, who could he lean on?
...Was it my place to tell him that?
I wasn’t his alpha. I wasn’t even his boyfriend. I was just the guy he kissed when the lights were low and the world got too heavy. Still, when that customer cornered him, my first instinct wasn’t to de-escalate.
It wasn’t to talk. It was to step between them and bare my teeth. I wanted to maul that jerk for ruining our moment. For digging up something I wanted buried. For saying it in front of James.
And my grizzly, he raged. Not out of shame.
Out of protectiveness. James wasn’t pack. Not mine. Not yet. But my bear was starting to think otherwise.
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the tiny kitchen. I’d never felt like this for Kellen. Lust, yes. Possession, yes. But never this. Never the mix of fear and need and frustration that James stirred up.
He made me want to be better. Not because he asked me to. Because I hoped he’d stay if I was.
The sharp buzz of my phone nearly made me jump. I fished it out of my pocket, half hoping it was James, but it wasn’t. An unknown number lit up my screen, but I didn’t need to guess.
I knew it was Kellen. He was probably using a new number again. My stomach twisted. I should’ve blocked it without thinking. Should’ve tossed the phone across the room.
But instead, my thumb hovered. And I hesitated. Old habits. The kind you think you’ve broken until they come crawling back, smug and sweet and just manipulative enough. I picked up.
“Finally,” Kellen purred. I could hear his smirk through the phone. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.”
“You’d deserve it,” I muttered, leaning against the counter again.
“Aw, don’t be like that. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“You never stop thinking about me. That’s the problem.”
Kellen chuckled, low and syrupy. “I made a mistake, okay? You’re the one who left, not me. Maybe I should’ve kept things a little more... exclusive, sure. But that’s not a reason to keep pushing me away.”
No apology. No accountability. Same old Kellen.
“Kellen,” I said, tone flat.
“Rafi, baby, don’t be like this. I need you.”
I stared at the wall. And thought about James. About his stubborn courage. His strength. The fact that he’d never play me like this.
“Rafael. Are you listening?” Kellen demanded.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’m listening.”
Then I pressed the end call button.
And stared at the phone for a beat before whispering to myself, “Never again.”
The silence in my apartment became unbearable after a while. Too loud. Too still. I paced for a bit, tried cleaning the kitchen even though it was already spotless.
Then I stood at the window and stared out into the street like something might suddenly make sense if I waited long enough. It didn’t. Eventually, I gave up and left.
The air outside was sharp, and the sky above Sugarpaw Springs had turned a dull, overcast gray.
I walked back to Bear and Bun with my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets, my jaw tight, every step heavier than the last. I told myself work would help. It always did. But not today.
I kneaded dough too hard. Messed up the timing on the sourdough. Forgot to preheat the dang oven. And all the while, my thoughts kept drifting. Back to James.
James, with flour on his cheek and laughter in his eyes. James, teasing me like I wasn’t someone who had snapped bones in his past. James, defending me like I was worth something.
Like I wasn’t a danger, a mistake, a warning wrapped in a warm body. James, who knew the truth now. And hadn’t run.
I wished I could go back to that moment. His mouth on mine, his fingers twisted in my jacket like he didn’t want to let me go. The way he looked at me, soft but sure. Like he saw me and wasn’t scared.
And maybe that was what scared me the most.
I slammed a tray down harder than necessary, wincing when a corner of it caught my knuckle. A hiss escaped me, and I shook my hand out, muttering under my breath.
“Alright, you’ve beaten that dough to death. What did it ever do to you?” Beau asked.
I looked up. Beau was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, one brow raised. He wasn’t grinning. Not this time. His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp, focused.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, brushing flour off my hands.
“You’re not. You’ve been distracted since you walked in,” Beau pointed out.
I didn’t answer. Beau pushed off the counter and moved closer, voice quieter now. “You went to see James, didn’t you?”
I didn’t tell him. I hadn’t told him any of it. Not about the goon who cornered James, not about how close I came to shifting right there in the middle of the street, how close I came to losing it.
Because it wasn’t my secret to share. It was James’. And I wasn’t going to betray that trust. Still, I should’ve known I couldn’t hide anything from Beau. Not for long.
I nodded once. “Yeah. I did.”
“And?”
Instead of answering that, I said flatly, “A customer at Wolf and Whisk recognized me. From Ironfalls.”
Beau’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture tightened. “What happened?”
“He made a scene. Said I broke his brother’s arm years ago.”
“Did you?” Beau asked.
I looked away. “Yeah.”
Beau was silent for a moment, then said, “You were a different person then. We were different people.”
I snapped before I could stop myself. “I know that.”
My voice cracked through the kitchen like a whip. Leo, who was nearby, flinched and quickly found something else to do in the back. Beau didn’t flinch. He waited.
I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. “But now James knows. He knows.”
“And how did he react?” Beau asked.
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “He didn’t run. Didn’t freak out. But he looked at me different afterward. I don’t know if it’s good or bad.”
Beau gave a slow nod, thoughtful. “He probably just needs time to process it. Anyone would.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe he’s finally seeing what everyone else always does.”
“What? That you’ve made mistakes? That you have a past?” Beau frowned. “Newsflash, we all do.”
“I know,” I muttered. “But if James everything I’ve done before. All the fights, the blood, the things I did before I knew better.”
“You did know better,” Beau said. “You just didn’t think it mattered. You weren’t given space to be someone else until you came here.”
I didn’t answer. I stared at the half-mixed bowl of dough on the table like it could offer me something solid to hold onto.
“I’m just… questioning everything now,” I finally said.
“Go on,” Beau said.
“If I deserve someone like him. He’s good, Beau. He’s got this shine to him, even if he tries to hide it behind jokes and that ridiculous hair. He’s smart and stubborn and loyal and good. And me? I’m just…” I trailed off, shaking my head.
Beau’s expression softened, but his voice was firm. “You’re not just anything. And you do deserve something good. You think I didn’t feel the same way when I met Sean?”
I blinked. “You?”
Beau huffed a small laugh. “Hell yeah. I was convinced I was going to ruin everything. That I was too broken. That the past would catch up to me and Sean would walk away. But he didn’t. And James won’t either. Not unless you push him.”
I looked down at my flour-covered hands. “I’m trying not to.”
“Then don’t shut him out,” Beau pointed out.
“I don’t want to drag him into anything.”
“And yet he keeps walking toward you, not away,” Beau said.
I paused, the weight of that hitting somewhere deep in my chest. James had kept showing up, hadn’t he? Even when I gave him nothing. Even when I pushed.
Beau bumped my shoulder. “Look. I get it. You’re scared. But if someone has the potential to be something real in your life, you can’t keep locking the door and pretending no one’s knocking.”
I swallowed, throat tight. He was right.
If I didn’t stop pulling away, James might eventually stop trying. And that thought? That James might move on, give his attention to someone else made something primal stir in my chest.
I hated the idea of him laughing like that for someone else. Of kissing someone else. Of trusting someone else with all that softness he barely let anyone see.
No. I didn’t want that. My grizzly didn’t want that either. I stared down at my hands again. Maybe I didn’t deserve James. But I sure as hell didn’t want to let him go.
“Thanks,” I said finally, voice low.
Beau clapped me on the back. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t be a dumbass.”
I gave him a weak grunt and turned back to the dough. I still didn’t feel like myself. But maybe, I was getting closer to figuring out who I wanted to be for me and for James.