Falling for the Bear Dad (Bearbound Hearts #1)

Chapter One

Mya

My pain tolerance had grown since being with Jacob, but that was the only part of this situation I was proud of.

Goddess, how had I gotten myself into this so deeply? Lost myself in the process and meshed with this…this total fucking asshole.

I picked up his hand and dropped it, testing that he was really knocked out. He was.

My skirt was lifted and he’d torn my panties off in an attempt to force himself on me again, a normal occurrence when he was drunk.

I turned and began the arduous process of removing myself from underneath his heavy body.

Grunting and cursing, I finally shoved him off and stood, finding my reflection more terrifying than ever.

My hair had lost its sheen. Dark circles were the only splash of color on my face.

I was thinner than I’d ever been, but not in a way I desired.

A shell of myself.

A tear slipped down my face as I stared at him. He snored and turned over, mumbling something about the stupid bitch.

He’d called me that more times than he’d used my real name.

Somewhere along the line, I’d begun to call myself that, too.

Tonight was the last time. A surge of energy and courage rose in me. Heat filled my head and anger turned my hands into fists. Now or never.

A chance to change my fate.

The clock ticked in my head as I packed my clothes, thanking my past self for doing laundry two days before.

I had a little money saved up, mostly from stealing the cash in his pocket when he came home drunk.

Jacob always assumed he’d lost it over a pool game or spent it on alcohol.

He never dreamed I’d taken every dollar and stashed it in the bottom of my tampon box, somewhere he’d never dare go.

That was how rich he was. He didn’t give a second thought to losing money or wads of cash. He bought things without discretion and then never touched them again. Went through money like water.

He never gave me any, of course. Not even for my most basic needs.

In less than ten minutes, I had my keys in one hand and my bag in another. My heart thrashed and banged against my sternum and with each step seemed to get louder.

My temples throbbed, and my mouth went dry.

I opened the back door and looked at Jacob from that vantage point.

He was still passed out. Pants around his ankles.

Mouth open. Face red from anger and too much liquor.

His tangy, sweat and whiskey scent filled the place, leaving no room for my own scent.

“Never again,” I said and whirled around, shutting the door behind me. My hands shook as I opened the old lock on my sedan with the key. None of the bells and whistles on my old junker. But it was mine, and there was little in this world I could call my own anymore.

My pride. My heart. And this piece of shit.

“Come on, baby. Start for me and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Half of my attention stayed on the back door that connected the house to the garage as I backed up and got onto the street.

I half expected a red-faced Jacob to throw the door open, those black, beady eyes telling me everything he wanted me to feel.

His evil. His anger. His plans to never let me go.

But he didn’t. I got onto the street and pushed the accelerator down. I must’ve checked the rearview mirror a thousand times until I got onto the highway. That was when I realized my phone had that damned tracking app on it.

Could I have pulled over and thrown it in a trash can? Sure.

Did I? Nope. It was late at night and I stopped on the side of the road and tossed the damned thing in the grass. I immediately felt bad since it was littering, but I had to ditch it. For all I knew, Jacob already knew where I was.

I laughed as I pulled back onto the road thinking about him, so smug, going to the last location and finding my phone thrown into the tall grass.

He would be more pissed than ever.

“What a fucking idiot you’ve been, Mya. Falling for that asshole.” The self-berating lasted for at least an hour before the tears began to fall.

Fuck! I had to get ahold of myself. The plan was to drive all night. That would give me at least eight to ten hours of distance between me and Jacob. He was particularly wasted that night, and he had no job, so it might’ve been more like twelve or fourteen hours.

I swiped my tears away and pulled over at a small convenience store.

Coffee, even the thick kind sold at tiny gas stations, was in order.

Plus, sugar. Running from your asshole boyfriend and crying and being this emotional called for a pack or two of powdered donuts and some of those cakes whose frosting made the roof of your mouth oily afterward.

With those things and a remarkably fresh cup of coffee, I got back on the road and drove like I had the devil on my heels.

Because I did.