Chapter 14 Tolin #2
She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go. Turns back to the stir-fry and adds some sauce that makes my nose wrinkle.
“What is that?”
“Soy sauce.”
“It smells... strong.”
“It smells delicious. You’ll like it.”
“Bears don’t—“
“If you say ‘bears don’t eat soy sauce,’ I’m going to throw this spatula at your head.”
I close my mouth.
She smirks and keeps cooking.
We eat at the table, the stir-fry hot and fragrant. It’s good. Better than good. My serving of chicken is perfect for me, the vegetables are crisp, and even the soy sauce doesn’t bother me as much as usual.
“Well?” She’s watching me eat with barely concealed amusement.
“It’s acceptable.”
“Acceptable.” She rolls her eyes. “High praise from the man who eats brown sugar with a spoon.”
“I never said I eat it with a spoon.”
“Do you?”
I take another bite instead of answering.
“That’s a yes.” She grins and digs into her own plate. “So. Tell me about your clan.”
The question catches me off guard. I set down my fork.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” She shrugs. “I’ve never really talked to a bear shifter before you. I didn’t even know you had clans. I thought it was packs, like wolves.”
“Wolves have packs. Bears have clans. Dragons have—“ I pause. “Actually, I don’t know what dragons call themselves. They’re not very social.”
“There are dragons in Shadow Wolf Creek?”
“A few. Bear shifters tend to keep to themselves, so I haven’t taken the time to get to know any of them.”
“Huh.” She chews thoughtfully. “So your clan. The Ironwood Clan. That’s your family?”
“That’s everyone. The whole community. Maybe fifty bears, give or take. We live on the eastern slope of the mountain, in a valley that’s protected from the worst of the weather.”
“And your mother still lives there? And your brother?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it like? The valley?”
I don’t know why I keep talking. I’ve never been one for conversation. But something about the way she’s looking at me, curious and engaged, makes me want to tell her everything.
“It’s beautiful,” I admit. “Especially in winter. The snow covers everything, but the cabins stay warm. There’s a central fire pit where the clan gathers. My mother used to take me and Ronan there when we were cubs, let us play in the snow while the adults talked.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It was.” I stare at my plate. “I miss it sometimes.”
“Then why don’t you go back?”
The question is gentle, but it cuts deep.
“I told you. My pride—“
“Your pride.” She says it flatly. “You gave up your family, your home, your entire community because of pride?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It sounds exactly that simple.”
I look up at her, ready to argue, but the expression on her face stops me. She’s not judging. She’s not criticizing. She’s just... seeing me. Seeing the wound I’ve been hiding.
“I couldn’t stand to be second,” I say quietly. “Couldn’t stand to watch Ronan lead when I’d spent my whole life believing it would be me. Every time I looked at him, all I could see was my own failure.”
“So you ran away.”
“I left. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
She’s quiet for a moment, pushing vegetables around her plate. When she speaks again, her voice is softer.
“I didn’t have a family growing up. Not really.
Foster homes, group houses, never anywhere permanent.
” She looks up at me. “I would have given anything for what you have. A mother who loves you. A brother who spared your life when he didn’t have to.
A whole community of people who share your blood. ”
The words hit hard.
“And you just... walked away from it. Because you couldn’t be in charge.”
“Imani—“
“I’m not trying to be cruel.” She holds up a hand. “I’m just saying. From where I’m sitting, you have something precious. And you’re letting pride keep you from it.”
I stare at her, this woman who grew up with nothing, who built herself from scratch, who came to my cabin to scrub floors because she was saving for a chair.
She’s right. She’s absolutely right.
“They want me to come back,” I say. “My mother. Ronan. They keep asking.”
“Then maybe you should.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Nothing worth having is easy.” She picks up her fork again. “But you have people who love you. That’s more than a lot of us get.”
We finish dinner without another word. But it’s not awkward. Something shifted between us, and we both feel it.
I watch her eat, watch the way her face relaxes as she enjoys the food she made. She’s beautiful. Soft and warm and everything I don’t deserve.
But I’m going to try to deserve her anyway.
“This was nice,” she says when her plate is empty. “I didn’t expect nice.”
“Neither did I.”
She stands, gathering her dishes, and I reach out to stop her.
“Leave them.”
“Tolin—“
“Leave them. Please.”
She hesitates, then sets them back down. Our eyes meet across the table.
“Thank you,” I say. “For dinner. For... talking to me.”
“Thank you for listening.” She hesitates, then reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. The touch burns through me, warm and electric. “Goodnight, Tolin.”
“Goodnight, Imani.”
She walks toward the hallway, pauses at the entrance, and looks back at me.
“Think about what I said. About your clan.”
Then she’s gone, her door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone with the dishes and the growing certainty that this woman is going to save my life.
If I let her.