Chapter 10
BENJAMIN
“Where have you been all night, and why do you smell like you’ve been stuffing your face with cinnamon rolls and cocoa?” my brother drawls the second I push open the back door. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyes sharp, nose twitching like the smug bastard he is.
I’d hoped coming in through the mudroom would let me slip upstairs unseen—maybe grab a hot shower before anyone noticed I was missing. Wash away the scent of where I’d been. The scent of her.
No such luck.
In a house full of shifters? You’re a bigger fool than I thought. My bear’s laughter rumbles low in my head, smug and unhelpful.
“Cocoa?” Gran’s voice cuts through before I can even make up an excuse.
She hobbles in with her cane, snow-white hair wound into a bun perched proudly on top of her head.
Her eyes—sharp as icicles despite her age—narrow.
“If you boys are making cocoa and not sharing, I’ll have a thing or two to say about manners. ”
“We’re not making cocoa, Gran,” I mutter quickly, stooping to give her a hug, hoping distraction will buy me a little mercy. She might barely reach my shoulder, but she hugs me with enough strength to crush ribs, reminding me exactly where my mother and brother get it from.
Gran inhales deeply as she pats my back, then leans away with a sly grin. “He’s right, though. You do smell like cocoa. And cinnamon rolls. And…” She tilts her head, studying me with unnerving accuracy. “Something else.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. I force a laugh that sounds far too rough in my own ears. “Guess I worked up an appetite and couldn’t resist a sweet treat this morning before I drove home.”
“You worked up something,” she shoots back, shaking her head as though she already knows the truth.
It’s not like I make a habit of staying out all night and sneaking through the back door the next morning.
The clatter of dishes announces my mother before she appears, carrying a tray of plates and cups.
She stops, setting them in the sink before wiping her hands on a towel.
“Oh, Benjamin, you’re home.” Relief softens her smile, though there’s a question in her eyes.
“Your brother said you left in such a hurry yesterday. He went outside to help you finish locking up before the storm hit, and all he saw were your taillights disappearing down the road.”
My gut tightens. I keep my expression carefully blank, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s nothing. I just… forgot something at Harry’s. Ended up staying in town because of the storm.”
It’s a weak excuse, and we all know it.
Before anyone can press, Gran reaches forward with those eagle eyes and plucks something from my shirt. She holds it up between two fingers, and the world tilts.
A strand of hair—blonde and blue, unmistakable. Hazel’s.
My stomach drops.
Gran hums, amused, twirling the strand like a ribbon caught in the wind. “Forgot something at Harry’s, hm?” Her smile is knowing, sharp enough to slice me open. “Tell me, Benjamin, does Harry have a witch working for him?”
I groan inwardly, my bear snorting in my head.
Busted.
“A witch?” My mother pipes up, abandoning the dishes and hurrying over, my brother hot on her heels.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been around one,” she muses, nose wrinkling. “But you smell unmistakably like magic, if I had to bet.”
“You can’t smell magic—” I start, but my brother punches me square in the arm, his face split wide in a grin.
“A witch, eh?” he taunts, slinging an arm around my shoulders and plucking the hair from Gran, dangling it in front of my face.
“It’s none of your business.” I snatch it from him, growling as I stuff it into my pocket.
“Oh, so you admit you spent your evening in the company of a blonde-haired witch?” Nathan teases as I duck out of his reach, putting the marble kitchen island between us. I didn’t think his grin could get any bigger, but apparently it can. “When were you going to tell us about her?”
“You met someone in town?” Mom asks as she grabs a clean cup from the cupboard. “Why don’t I make coffee and you can tell us all about her—and when we’re going to meet her. You look like you hardly slept.”
“He probably didn’t,” Nathan snickers. I glare at him, claws threatening to break through my skin.
If only we were so lucky.
“Now, Nathan, make yourself useful and finish those dishes from breakfast,” Mom says with a no-nonsense look as she fills my cup from the coffee machine.
“I could’ve done that, but thank you.” I take the proffered cup and follow her into the living room, the smell of fresh pine and woodsmoke wrapping around me like a blanket.
I sink into one of the three oversized couches circling the roaring fire.
With a house full of bears, there’s no shortage of sturdy furniture built to handle us—big, cushioned things that looked like they’d been made with us in mind.
The resemblance to the Goldilocks story isn’t lost on me.
What would Hazel think of all this? My very own Goldilocks.
My stomach twists at the thought of her cold, empty living room. Just that tree, a box of ornaments, and a few unpacked boxes shoved in the corner. Has she found someone to fix her heater yet? Did she even know how to order firewood? I should’ve left her more cut wood.
You shouldn’t have left her at all.
“Benjamin?” Mom’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I glance up to find her and Gran perched across from me, staring expectantly.
“Sorry,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.” I take a sip of steaming black coffee, letting the heat burn down my throat, hoping it’ll chase Hazel from my mind.
“Well,” Gran grumbles, stretching her hands toward the fire. “Tell us about her already. I’m not getting any younger.” Her eyes glint like she’s about to pounce.
“There isn’t much to tell. I was heading back to town to Harry’s, like I said.” I sit up straighter, scanning the room. “Speaking of Dad, where is he? Harry wanted me to pass on greetings.”
“Don’t you dare deflect.” Gran leans forward, her cane tapping against the rug like a gavel. “Juicy bits. Now.”
“Mom!” my mother gasps, scandalized, a hand fluttering to her mouth—but her cheeks are pink, and the corners of her lips curve upward.
“Your father,” she says more primly, “insisted on heading out to check on the saplings this morning after the storm.” She lifts her cup. “I told him to stay in, but you know your father.”
“Stubborn old mule.” I chuckle.
“Don’t say that like you wouldn’t be out there with him if you hadn’t spent the night with some young lady,” she quips.
The tips of my ears go hot. I nearly choke on my coffee.
“Alright, fine.” I blow out a breath. “Her name is Hazel. She drove all the way up to the farm last night insisting she needed a Christmas tree.”
“She drove all the way up here alone?” Nathan’s voice cuts in from the doorway. He’s leaning against the frame, arms folded, smirk already in place. “Why not just buy one in town like a normal person?”
“Wait.” Mom’s eyebrows shoot up, her tone sharp as a whip. “Last night? During that storm? You let her drive back to town, knowing full well a snowstorm was due to hit?”
“I didn’t let her do anything.” My jaw clenches. “I warned her. She insisted. She wasn’t leaving without a tree.”
“And you didn’t think to invite her to stay?” Mom’s lips purse in disapproval. “You know very well we have more than enough spare rooms.”
“I—” My throat tightens. I had wanted her to stay. Wanted it more than I should have. But she’d gotten under my skin, and I’d let my doubts drive her off.
“So then what?” Gran asks, her voice low and coaxing, like a child begging for the next part of a fairy tale.
“Well…” I stare into my cup. “I just had this feeling. So I drove back, wanted to make sure she made it into town. Except… she didn’t.”
A hush falls over the room.
“She must’ve hit a patch of black ice,” I murmur. “Slid off the road. Landed in a snowbank.”
“Oh, that poor dear.” Mom’s hand flies to her chest. “Was she hurt?”
“She was fine until she tried to march through the snow. Twisted her ankle.” My lips twitch at the memory. “Stubborn witch still insisted she had to get that damn tree home.”
Nathan whistles low. “So you played knight in shining armor, huh? Or… flannel, in this case.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “And then what? You tuck her in by the fire?”
My ears burn.
“Benjamin!” Mom gasps, aghast.
Gran just cackles. “Did you kiss her?”
I choke on my coffee. “Gran!”
“What?” She shrugs innocently. “A handsome boy, a stranded girl, snow falling outside—it’s practically begging for a kiss. Don’t act like I was born yesterday.”
Nathan grins like the cat who caught the canary. “Oh, he kissed her.”
“I did not—” My ears are on fire now.
“You’re turning red.” Gran narrows her eyes knowingly.
“Men blush when they’re guilty,” Nathan adds.
“Stop it, both of you,” Mom snaps, though her lips twitch again.
“Well?” Gran presses.
I run a hand over my face. “Her power was out, she didn’t have wood, and she didn’t even know how to use her fireplace. What was I supposed to do? Leave her freezing?”
“So you stayed and kept her warm.” Nathan’s grin grows smug.
I open my mouth—
The back door swings open, a burst of cold air following Dad’s familiar uneven footsteps. His crutches thump across the floor before his head appears around Nathan’s shoulder.
“Oh, Benjamin, you’re back.” His voice is brisk, as if I’ve just stepped out to fetch the paper. “Listen, I could use your help with—”
“Not now, Roger,” Mom interrupts firmly, waving him toward a chair. “Ben was just about to tell us how he met Hazel.”
“Hazel?” Dad blinks, glances around at the eager faces, then snorts. “Ah. So that’s what’s going on. Benjamin finally cracked and found himself a girl.” He settles into the chair closest to the fire and props his crutches against the mantle.