Chapter 20
BENJAMIN
Wack. Wack. Wack.
My ax thuds into the log, each swing splitting wood and rattling through my bones. We’ve got plenty of firewood stacked high, but sitting inside only made me restless—pacing the house like a caged animal.
You could go to town. Find her. Tell her how you feel. Or just text her.
Sweat trickles down my brow as I yank my phone out. Hazel’s name stares back at me from the contact I added the second she left. My thumb hovers over the call button.
What are you waiting for?
My chest squeezes tight. Instead of pressing it, I click the screen off and shove the phone back into my pocket.
“What if she regrets it?” I mutter.
Regrets what?
“The kiss. The night. All of it. What if she regrets me? I’m not a normal man with a normal job. I’m a fucking polar bear shifter who lives with my family hours up the mountain on a Christmas tree farm. And I’ve got a crazy bear living in my head.”
Hey now… watch it.
I grip the ax and swing harder, sweat slicking my back. The log splinters under my blade, but it’s not enough. I slam again, heart pounding, thoughts of Hazel flashing—her laughter at the kitchen table, her soft sigh as she drifted off in my arms, the way she smelled like vanilla and winter spice.
The blade sticks deep. I brace my foot against the bark and pull. It doesn’t budge.
“Fuck!”
“What did that log ever do to you?”
I whirl around, scowling. Nathan leans against a tree, smirking.
“What are you doing out here?” I snap, yanking at the handle. Still stuck.
“When you skipped breakfast and lunch, I figured you’d finally grown a pair and gone to town to chase your mate.”
The word mate lands like a punch. My grip slips. He keeps going.
“But then I saw your truck parked out front. Thought maybe you’d gone feral. Didn’t expect you to just be…” He gestures lazily. “Working.”
“Leave me alone.” My jaw grinds as I haul on the ax.
“And miss watching you pine? Please. You’re practically howling.” He plops down on a log, making kissy faces.
“She’s not my mate,” I growl. “She’s a witch.”
“A pretty witch. One who clearly likes the big, grumpy bear act. Too bad she’s not my type.” His smirk deepens, needling at my temper.
“Get lost, Nathan.” I tug harder, the ax finally wrenching free with a sharp crack.
“Oh, I will. But maybe I’ll take a little trip into town first…” He pulls something from his jacket pocket and twirls it on his finger.
Hazel’s beanie.
My stomach drops.
“She must’ve left it behind,” Nathan drawls. “I could be a gentleman and return it for you.”
Something in my chest snaps.
“Give me that,” I bite out, stepping forward. My bear pushes against my skin, claws itching, ready to tear it out of his hand if he doesn’t comply.
Nathan only grins wider. “What? Thought you didn’t care. She’s not your mate, remember?”
Heat sears through me, a wildfire I can’t contain.
My fists clench at my sides, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.
I don’t even need to look inside myself to know the truth.
Hazel’s face, her laugh, the way her tiny hands fit so perfectly in mine—it all roars through me with blinding certainty.
“She is mine,” I snarl, the words ripped from somewhere deeper than thought. “She’s always been mine.”
For once, Nathan doesn’t have a smart reply. He studies me for a long beat before tossing the hat my way. I catch it in a fist, clutching it to my chest like a lifeline. Her scent clinging to the wool rises up, nearly bringing me to my knees.
“Then maybe,” Nathan says at last, standing and brushing snow from his jeans, “you ought to stop sulking in the woods and do something about it.”
I stare down at the beanie in my hands, pulse pounding.
Hazel had left it behind. Maybe by accident. Maybe on purpose. Either way, it’s the excuse I’ve been waiting for.
No more pacing the house. No more what-ifs. No dumb text messages.
I grab my truck keys from my back pocket, the decision burning through me like fire in my veins.
I’m going to town.
I’m going to her.