Chapter Fifteen
Once the initial shockwaves of the morning entirely faded, I force my trembling legs to carry me off the couch. I stumble back into my own bedroom, quickly slipping into a fresh pair of underwear, before my eyes drifted down the hallway.
I entirely lacked the energy to pick out a proper outfit of my own. Driven by a sudden, bold impulse, I stroll right back into Bear’s bedroom and scan his closet, pulling out one of his massive, black oversized hoodies. I slip it over my head, and it instantly drowns me, the hem falling all the way down to my knees. He was so much bigger than me it was almost ridiculous.
I slid onto the edge of his bed, letting the heavy fabric envelope me, and let my eyes wander around the dim space. I shuffle over to the other side of the mattress, my curiosity getting the better of me as I look at the cluttered nightstand. My eyes catch the labels on the various medicine tubes and prescription bottles.
Antidepressants. It made sense. The man had survived three brutal years in state prison; it was understandable that he’d be carrying that kind of heavy darkness around with him.
But right beside those bottles was another prescription: Ritalin. Honestly, I was a total idiot and had no idea what it was actually used for, so I quickly pulled out my phone and searched it up. The search results immediately informed me it was most commonly prescribed for people dealing with ADHD.
Wow. That actually made a terrifying amount of sense too. It explained a lot about his hyper-fixations, his sudden bursts of intense frustration, and his restless energy.
There were quite a few bottles of each medication scattered around, and as I pick up a couple, I realize they were completely empty. The man clearly just hated throwing the plastic vials away.
Feeling a sudden prickle of guilt, I decide to stop snooping and get the hell out of his personal space before he magically materialized and caught me red-handed. But as I spin around to rush out of the bedroom, my foot caught on the edge of something heavy.
“Ow!” I gasp, stumbling blindly forward.
My ankle starts throbbing with a sharp, white-hot burst of pain, but I force myself to ignore it as I look down at the floorboards. I had tripped over a battered old cardboard box that had been tucked away. Giving in to my worst instincts, I sat flat on my ass and pulled the lid off.
Inside were pictures. Hundreds of them.
I pick up the first stack, my heart sinking as I flip through them. It was mostly photos of a younger Bear standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a girl. There were photos of Bear’s entire family posing with her, and shots of Mac and Jay laughing beside her under the summer sun.
She was breathtakingly beautiful. She had luscious, cascading blonde hair and piercing, pretty blue eyes. Looking at the pure, genuine smile on Bear’s face in the photographs, I suddenly felt exactly like that Olivia Rodrigo girl in Driver's License—completely inadequate and painfully insecure.
“What are you doing?”
I violently jump, my heart leaping into my throat as I snap my head up. Jay was leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
A massive wave of relief washes over me. “Oh my god, you scared me,” I murmur, clutching my chest. “I... I tripped over this box. Jay, who is this girl?”
Jay walks into the room, his usual dramatic demeanor softening as he crouched down on the floorboards beside me. “That’s Crystal,” he says quietly, his eyes tracking the blonde girl in the photo. “She was an absolute bitch.”
“Is she... is she Bear’s ex?” I ask hesitantly.
“She was actually his childhood best friend,” Jay explains, leaning his back against the bedframe. “But she was so obsessively in love with him that anytime he tried to get serious with another girl, Crystal would ruthlessly chase them away. She ruined every single relationship he ever tried to have.”
I swallow hard. “What happened?”
“One day, Bear finally figured out what she was doing. He completely lost his temper, growled at her, and told her in no uncertain terms that he would never, ever see her that way. He told her she was suffocating him.” Jay let out a heavy, solemn breath. “That exact same night, she went home and killed herself.”
A cold dread washes over me, a few stray tears slipping down my cheeks. “That’s so incredibly sad,” I whisper, looking at her bright smile in the photo with entirely different eyes.
“That’s the exact reason he keeps this box,” Jay murmurs. “In her memory. For a really long time, she was the only person he actually cared about. He blames himself entirely for what happened.”
The weight of Bear’s trauma felt suffocating. I quickly gather the loose photos, packed them neatly back into the cardboard, and slid the box safely under his bed where I found it. Wiping the damp tracks from my face, I look up at Jay. “Wait, why are you even here anyway?”
Jay reaches down, catching my hands and helping me up off my ass. “I was bored at the salon. Plus, someone wanted to meet you.”
“And he desperately needed a distraction,” a deep, unfamiliar voice echoes from the living room.
I blink, suddenly realizing we weren’t alone. I walk out into the hallway and saw a guy sitting comfortably on our couch. He was undeniably good-looking, with sharp green eyes and blonde hair slicked back into a neat man-bun. Personally, I wasn’t usually into the whole man-bun aesthetic, but he entirely pulled it off.
“Danny, this is my boyfriend,” Jay introduces with a proud, beaming smile. “Hamish.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmur, leaning against the wall to keep the weight off my throbbing ankle.
Hamish looks me up and down, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “You definitely look exactly like Bear’s type.”
A breathless giggle escapes me. “Thanks... I think.”
Jay’s eyes suddenly dart down to my outfit, his eyebrows shooting straight into his hairline. “Wait a minute. Are you wearing Mitchell’s hoodie?”
Before I could answer, Jay marches over, completely bypassing the couch, and plops himself right onto his boyfriend’s lap. He leans forward, squinting at me conspiratorially. “Did you two... do stuff this morning?”
My face instantly erupts into a fierce, bright crimson blush. “Yeah,” I mumble, pulling the oversized sleeves over my hands. “We kind of did.”
Jay gasps loudly, his eyes widening. “Good stuff?!”
“Yeah,” I murmur, a helpless smile tugging at my lips as I thought about his mouth on my skin. “Really, really good stuff.”
----
By the time Bear finally got home later that afternoon, Jay and Hamish had long since departed. I was sitting on the edge of the couch, completely miserable, pressing a bag of frozen peas against my swelling ankle. It was official: I had definitely sprained it.
The front door slams shut, and Bear strode into the entryway. The second his eyes land on the ice pack, his jaw clenches. “What happened?” he growls, dropping his work bag.
“I tripped,” I answer truthfully.
He glances around the pristine, empty apartment, his brows furrowed. “On what?”
“My... my own two feet,” I lie smoothly, pulling the collar of his hoodie up around my chin.
He let out a low, skeptical grunt. “Are you wearing my hoodie?”
“It’s incredibly comfortable,” I murmur, snuggling deeper into the soft fleece.
“Ask next time,” he mutters, turning on his heel and walking straight down the hallway into his bedroom.
I held my breath, waiting for him to change out of his work clothes. But a mere three seconds later, a furious roar echoes through the apartment.
“Danny!”
I physically jump on the cushions. Bear storms out of his bedroom, his face completely distorted with absolute rage as he glares a hole straight through me. “Did you touch my fucking stuff?!”
I blink, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Huh?”
“My medication is not in the exact order I left it in,” he snaps, his voice dangerously low as he marches into the living room. “Why the fuck were you going through my things?”
“Bear, I’m so sorry—”
“I don’t give a shit if you’re sorry!” he growls savagely. The sheer, raw volume of his voice was so intense that I physically flinch, pulling away from him. Seeing me recoil seemed to only anger him more. “What the fuck were you doing snooping around in my room?!”
“I—I just wanted a sweater!” I ramble, the words spilling out in a panicked rush. “And then I saw the medication on your nightstand, and I just... I was wondering what you were taking, okay?”
Bear crosses his massive arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Is that how you tripped?”
I swallow the massive lump in my throat, realizing there was no way out of this. “I... I tripped on the cardboard box. The one filled with the photos of Crystal.”
“So that’s two entirely separate things you decided to snoop through,” he hisses, his body rigid with fury. “Anything else?”
“No,” I murmur, looking down at my lap.
“This is exactly why you weren’t allowed in my room, Danny,” he snaps, the words cutting through me like broken glass. “Because I knew a girl like you wouldn’t be able to help herself. You just have to dig your nose into things that don’t belong to you.”
The phrase turns my stomach. I lift my head, glaring back at him through a sudden blur of tears. “What exactly do you mean by ‘a girl like me,’ Mitchell?”
“A spoiled girl whose daddy pays her entire rent for her,” he snaps maliciously.
The words felt like a physical slap to the face. The sweet, fragile intimacy we had shared on this exact couch just hours ago was completely obliterated.
Fueled by a sudden spike of pure, defensive rage, I force myself to stand up on my good foot. I grip the hem of his oversized sweater, yank it violently over my head, and hurl it straight at his chest.
“Go fuck yourself, Mitchell,” I spat, my voice shaking.
Ignoring the agonizing flare of pain in my sprained ankle, I limp as fast as I could down the hallway, storming straight into my bedroom and slamming the door shut. I rip a pair of my own clothes out of the closet, threw them on, and collapse face-first onto my mattress.
As the heavy silence of the apartment settles around me, I finally let the hot, angry tears fall freely into my pillow.
Our very first fight. And it just had to happen right after the most wonderful, perfect moment of my life.
And the absolute worst part of it all? I knew it was entirely my fault.