Extra #3 - First Meeting Bears POV
Bear’s POV
One month before...
I was sprawled out lazily on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling, when the faint jingle of keys echoes from the hallway outside. A second later, the lock clicks, the door swings open, and Mac strolls in like she owned the place—because, as far as she was concerned, she basically did.
I didn’t bother moving a muscle. “Can I help you?” I deadpan, keeping my voice utterly flat.
Mac kicks her shoes off at the door and drops her purse onto the kitchen island. “Did you completely forget that today is officially the first of the month, Mitchell?” she questions, crossing her arms over her chest. “I am legally and morally obligated to come check on your miserable ass.”
Fuck. I’d completely lost track of the days.
“No,” I lie smoothly, slowly sitting up on the cushions. “You’re just... significantly earlier than usual.”
Mac takes a few steps closer, her sharp, perceptive eyes locking onto my face, scanning every detail with hawk-like precision. Her brow furrowed into a deep, suspicious frown. “You look... different.”
My heart did a quick, heavy thump against my ribs. “Do I?”
Fuck. She already knew.
Look, I’ll be the first to admit it: the last couple of weeks had been an absolute nightmare. My depression had been kicking my ass, my joints ached constantly, and the overwhelming noise in my unmedicated head got to be too much. In a moment of pure weakness, I met up with my old dealer and bought a small bag of cocaine. I’d only taken a single hit—one tiny snort—before the crippling wave of guilt slammed into me, reminding me why I got clean in the first place. I threw the rest down the toilet, but the damage was done.
“You relapsed,” Mac murmurs, her voice dropping all its sarcasm, replaced by a sudden, heavy dread.
“No, I didn’t—”
“Mitchell, I literally work with hundreds of recovering addicts every single week,” she snaps, stepping right up to the coffee table. “You seriously think I can’t spot the exact telltale signs in your eyes?”
I let out a long, defeated sigh, my shoulders slumping as I rub a heavy hand over my face. “I’m sorry, Mac.”
She sank onto the sofa beside me, reaching out to gently rub my broad back in a comforting gesture. “You’re an addict, Bear,” she says softly, her tone remarkably gentle now. “There are going to be times when you struggle and falter, but you have to internalize the fact that drugs are nothing more than a temporary fix that creates an exponentially bigger disaster down the road.”
“I know,” I croak out, staring down at my calloused knuckles.
“I want to suggest something to you, but please do not bite my head off,” Mac says hesitantly, pausing for a beat.
I glance over at her. “What?”
“I want you to get a roommate.”
I instantly let out a harsh, disbelieving bark of laughter. “Fuck no.”
“Bear, listen to me—”
“I hate people, Mac,” I state flatly, shifting away from her. “I barely tolerate you and my own biological brothers on a good day.”
“You need someone living in this space with you,” she insists firmly, refusing to back down. “Having a daily routine and another human presence around will keep you grounded. And I know for a fact that Darren and Jay will sleep a hell of a lot better at night knowing you aren’t completely isolated in this apartment.”
Right. A live-in babysitter to watch my every move. Exactly what I needed.
“Just... promise me you’ll actually think about it, okay?” she murmurs softly, standing up from the couch and grabbing her purse. “We just want you to be okay, Mitchell.”
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” I mutter, staring at the floor.
Like I was actually going to consider it. I liked my privacy, I liked my silence, and I liked my space.
----
The Day Of...
A loud, frantic blaring yanks me straight out of a deep sleep. I groan, rolling over on the mattress and blindly reaching for my bedside table. I grab my phone, seeing Mac’s name flashing across the screen.
I swipe answer and held it to my ear. “What the fuck do you want?” I bark angrily.
“Hey bitch, it is officially 11:00 AM, you should have been up hours ago,” her voice echoes loudly through the speaker.
“Is this actually important, or can I go back to sleep?” I grunt, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Sooooo... you know how about a month ago, I strongly suggested that you get a roommate?” she asks, her tone shifting into that overly sweet, suspicious cadence she used when she’d done something chaotic.
“Vividly, yes,” I mutter, pulling the blanket up. I’d felt like absolute, complete shit for the last four weeks. Ever since that slip-up, I felt like I’d taken ten massive steps backward mentally, consumed by guilt.
“Well... a guy named Danny is heading up to your place in about an hour to check out the empty room,” Mac announces casually.
My eyes snap wide open. I sit bolt upright in bed, tossing the covers aside. “What the actual fuck, Mac?!”
“Look, it’s what is objectively best for your mental health, so I put an ad out online,” Mac says smoothly, entirely unbothered by my sudden rage. “And you are going to take this interview seriously, Mitchell, because if you don’t, I will personally tell Darren every single detail about your relapse.”
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth practically creak. “Are you seriously fucking blackmailing me right now?”
“Yes, I am 100% blackmailing you,” she answers cheerfully. “Okay, great! Bye, love you!”
The line went dead.
I aggressively hurl my phone across the room, watching it slam against the far wall and bounce onto the rug. That absolute fucking bitch.
Because the last thing on this earth I wanted was Darren finding out I’d messed up and spiraling into a protective panic, I swing my legs out of bed. I begrudgingly pull on a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark t-shirt, brush my teeth, and did a rapid sweep of the living room to make the apartment look presentable.
At precisely 12:00 PM, a quiet, hesitant knock echoes at the front door.
I take a deep, steadying breath, forcing my facial muscles into a completely blank, impassive mask, and pull the door open.
My heart instantly slams against my ribs.
Woah.
Standing on my welcome mat was a girl. And not just any girl—she was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful. She had long, rich brown hair cascading past her shoulders, striking green eyes, and soft curves in all the absolute right places. She stood just a few inches shorter than my massive frame. She was wearing a cute skirt, which gave me an entirely unobstructed view of a pair of incredible, long legs.
I catch her quickly looking me up and down, her eyes lingering on my chest, so I defensively raised an eyebrow at her.
“Hi, I’m Danny,” she murmurs, her voice soft and a little hesitant. “I was contacting you about the free room?”
Shit. What the actual fuck, Mac?
“Danny’s a boy’s name,” I grunt out, my deep voice sounding harsher than I intended. Great, now she definitely thinks I am an absolute asshole.
“It’s short for Daniella,” she states, lifting her chin slightly. “C-can I come in?”
I push off the doorframe with a low grunt, stepping aside to let her pass. As she walks past me into the entryway, I couldn’t stop myself from taking a swift, appreciative glance at her behind as she wanders into the living room and kitchen area. My apartment wasn’t furnished with much—just the essentials—since I lived alone and preferred it uncluttered.
She walks toward the bathroom, and I could tell by the slight raise of her brows that she was genuinely impressed with how spotlessly clean I kept the place.
“Where’s the toilet?” she asks, looking around.
I point a finger toward the small, separate door down the hall. She opens it, taking a quick glance inside before stepping back into the corridor. She continues down the hallway and reaches for the knob of my bedroom door, but I step up quickly, resting a heavy hand flat against the wood above her head to block her.
“No,” I say firmly.
I was intensely private about my bedroom, and there was no way a complete stranger was walking in there.
She mutters something faint under her breath that I couldn’t quite catch—probably cursing me out—before turning on her heel and opening the door across the hall to the guest room instead. Calling it a bedroom was a stretch; it was essentially a small, empty box. The previous tenant had painted a detailed mural of wild red roses across the far wall surrounding the window overlooking the city.
“It’s beautiful,” Danny murmurs softly, stepping inside to admire the wall.
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my massive arms over my chest as I watch her. You’re beautiful.
Ugh, Jesus Christ, I am such a fucking creep.
I must have shifted or made a sound, because she suddenly spun around to face me. “Do you... have any questions for me?” she asks, holding her hands together.
“Do you cook?” I ask flatly.
“A little,” Danny answers, a tiny, playful smirk catching on her lips. “Don’t go expecting a three-course gourmet meal every night, though.”
She was adorable. Naturally, I kept my face entirely stoic, not letting a single drop of emotion show. “Do you clean?”
“I do,” she states, glancing around the immaculate hallway. “But honestly, it looks like you’ve got that end completely covered anyway.”
I gave a single nod. I was borderline OCD when it came to keeping my living environment spotless.
“Are you planning on throwing parties here?” I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly. I genuinely prayed she wasn’t a wild party girl, though with looks like hers, she definitely fit the profile.
She quickly shakes her head. “No, I’m really not much of a party girl at all.”
I let out a soft scoff under my breath. Yeah, right. That always means you’re a party girl.
Still, despite my cynicism, she seems genuinely sweet, polite, and quiet. Taking her in would get Mac off my back once and for all, and it meant I wouldn’t have to waste time interviewing anyone else.
“Rent’s due every Monday,” I tell her bluntly.
I push off the doorframe, walking back out into the living room and dropping onto the leather couch. I hear the soft patter of her shoes following right behind me a second later.
“Wait... you mean I can actually live here?” she asks, her green eyes widening in surprise.
Not the sharpest tool in the shed, I see.
“No,” I deadpan, staring straight ahead. “I mean pay me rent every week and live somewhere else.”
A tiny, breathless laugh escaped her lips. “Thank you,” she whispers genuinely. “It’s... Bear, right?”
I grunt out an affirmative. My middle name was Bear for a damn good reason, but I wasn’t about to give her my whole life story.
“Well, all my stuff is currently sitting downstairs in my car... is it okay if I move in today?” Danny asks, shifting her weight nervously.
I stand up from the couch, my muscles tensing with a sudden wave of social anxiety at the thought of the chaos. Still, I look down at her. “Do you want help?”
Her eyes widen in pure shock at the unexpected offer. “Well... I don’t have anything overly heavy to lift, but I’d definitely prefer not to make a dozen trips back and forth.”
I raise an eyebrow dryly. “Don’t you have a bed?”
She shakes her head, a flash of genuine defeat crossing her face. “I put all my furniture into a local storage unit last week... and the whole place got broken into and cleared out.”
Geez. Why on earth would you put your belongings in a storage unit in this neighborhood?
I mentally made a note to call Mac later; I was pretty sure she still had some of her old bedroom furniture sitting in her garage. I could easily get Darren to bring his truck over later to help me haul it up here for her.
I walk over to Danny, taking her small hand in mine and gently turning her palm upward. With my free hand, I unhook one of the spare brass keys from my keyring and drop it into her palm.
“Key for the apartment,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she smiles, clutching it tightly.
Alright, I just needed to head down to my car, give Darren a quick call, and figure out the logistics of getting a truck over here. Moving furniture up three flights of stairs with no elevator was going to be a total pain in the ass, but doing it in multiple small trips would be even worse.
My mind racing with the logistics, I completely forgot to explain any of that to her.
“I can’t help you,” I blurt out abruptly in the middle of my silent planning, turning on my heel and walking straight out the front door, leaving her standing alone in the living room.