Chapter Seventeen – Daniel
By six o’clock, Daniel felt like he’d been run over by a freight train. Twice.
His shoulders burned from hauling fifty-pound bags of flour after the delivery guy had simply dumped them at the back door. His voice was nearly hoarse from talking to customers. And his head pounded from constantly having to think on his feet.
“You should head home,” Mina said, wiping down the counter with practiced efficiency. “I’ll finish closing up.”
“You’ve been here longer than I have.” Daniel shook his head, immediately regretting the movement as pain lanced behind his eyes. “I can’t leave you with all this.”
“Yes, I have, but I got a two-hour nap this afternoon. So, you go. After thirty years in food service, I can close a bakery with my eyes closed.” She shooed him toward the door. “Besides, you’ve got someone waiting for you.”
The thought of Holly and the kids at home sent a wave of renewed energy through his exhausted body.
His bear stirred, suddenly alert despite the day’s fatigue. Yes. Mate. Cubs. Home.
“Thanks, Mina,” he said, hanging up his apron. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me about fifty-seven at this point, but who’s counting?” She winked. “Now go before I change my mind.”
“I’m going.” He held his hands up as he grabbed his jacket and went outside.
The winter air bit at his exposed skin, but Daniel welcomed the shock of cold. He sucked in the frigid air to clear his head. What a day.
With a quick backward glance at the bakery, he set off down the street. Holly had offered to come and pick him up in the truck, but he’d told her he’d walk home. That he needed the exercise…which wasn’t entirely a lie.
What he hadn’t mentioned was the overwhelming need to shift, to let his bear take control for just a little while.
Daniel glanced around the empty street, then headed toward the edge of town where the forest began. The snow-covered pines stood silent as he made his way deeper into the woods. When he was certain he was alone, Daniel let go of the world.
The air around him popped and crackled as he disappeared, to be replaced a second later by a bear.
The bear raised his head and sniffed the air, tasting the scents of the forest around him.
Then he shook his coat and loped off deeper into the forest. He moved through the trees without a sound, his paws leaving temporary impressions in the snow.
By dawn, the tracks he left behind would vanish, erased by the night’s snowfall as if he’d never passed through at all.
For nearly thirty minutes, Daniel let his bear roam, careful to keep to the lower slopes and avoid areas where hikers might venture, even in winter.
The bear sniffed at interesting scents, rubbed his back against a particularly satisfying pine trunk, and generally reveled in the simple joy of being.
With each step, the day’s tension melted away. Leaving behind the stress of staffing shortages and delayed orders. Daniel’s bear lived in the moment—the crisp air, the quiet forest, and the knowledge that their home and family awaited.
As they neared home, Daniel shifted back to his human form and made his way along quiet streets to his house.
The tension that had driven him to shift had eased, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
His bear was content, and Daniel had to admit, the run had done him good.
He turned his key in the lock and pushed open the door to an explosion of color and light.
Paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling, swaying gently in the draft from the door.
Multicolored paper chains draped across doorways and wrapped around banisters.
Twinkling lights—where had those even come from?
—were strung along the walls, casting a warm, festive glow throughout the entryway.
Before Daniel could process the transformation, a small missile in dinosaur pajamas launched itself at his legs.
“DON’T LOOK YET!” Teddy shouted, wrapping his arms around Daniel’s thighs and nearly toppling him.
“Teddy!” Maisie’s exasperated voice came from somewhere in the living room. “You’re supposed to wait!”
Daniel chuckled, the sound rusty after his long day. He scooped Teddy up, settling him on his hip with practiced ease. “What’s going on, buddy?”
“It’s a surprise!” Teddy stage-whispered, his eyes wide with barely contained excitement. “But you can’t look until we say.”
“I promise not to peek,” Daniel said solemnly, closing his eyes for good measure.
But his other senses locked onto his mate. Holly. She was near. Getting closer. The urge to open his eyes and look at her was overwhelming. But he kept them squeezed shut.
“Welcome home,” she said, her voice close. “Rough day?”
Even with his eyes closed, Daniel could picture her perfectly. And the scent of her. It made his mouth water.
But there were other scents too. Food. His stomach rumbled in appreciation.
“You have no idea,” he replied, still fighting the urge to open his eyes, to drink in the sight of her. “But it’s already getting better.”
“Good,” Holly said, and he felt her hand on his arm, guiding him forward. “Because we have something for you.”
Daniel allowed himself to be led, Teddy still perched on his hip, chattering excitedly about how they’d been “working super hard” and how it was “going to be the best surprise ever.”
“Okay, you can look now!” Maisie’s voice came from directly in front of him.
Daniel opened his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.
The living room had been completely transformed.
His sofa was buried beneath every blanket and pillow in the house, arranged into what could only be described as a nest. Candles flickered on the mantelpiece, and his favorite slippers—the ones with the ridiculous bear faces that the kids had given him last Christmas—sat waiting at the edge of the blanket pile.
Above it all hung a banner, clearly made by small hands, that read “DAD RELAX ZONE” in wobbly, colorful letters.
“Do you like it?” Maisie asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice at his silence.
Daniel set Teddy down and kneeled to eye level with his daughter. “Like it? Maisie, I love it.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Maisie’s face broke into a wide smile. “It was Holly’s idea, but we helped with everything. I made the banner, and Teddy made all the paper chains.”
“By myself!” Teddy added proudly, bouncing on his toes.
Daniel looked up at Holly, who stood slightly apart, watching the scene with a shy smile. “You did all this?”
She shrugged, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It was my suggestion, but the kids filled in the details. I just provided some long arms. And cooking help.”
“What is that?” Daniel sucked in a deep breath. The aroma filling the house was unlike anything he’d ever smelled.
“We made dinner!” Teddy announced, grabbing Daniel’s hand and pulling him toward the kitchen. “All your favorites!”
His bear chuckled. That explains it.
“This looks incredible,” Daniel said as he peered inside the kitchen.
A steaming lasagna sat on the counter, its edges bubbling with golden cheese.
Beside it, a chicken pot pie with a perfectly browned crust sent tendrils of steam into the air.
A plate of snickerdoodles, slightly misshapen but dusted with cinnamon sugar, sat next to a bowl of mashed potatoes that had been decorated with carrot rounds and peas to form smiling faces.
“We couldn’t decide which was your favorite,” Maisie explained, suddenly shy. “So we made all of them.”
“I said lasagna,” Teddy piped up.
“And I said chicken pot pie,” Maisie added.
Holly stepped forward, her expression caught between pride and apology. “I hope you don’t mind the... eclectic menu. They were both so determined.”
Daniel looked from the chaotic spread to his children’s hopeful faces to Holly’s uncertain smile, and something in his chest expanded until he thought it might burst. This jumbled, imperfect feast was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“This,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “is exactly what I needed today.”
The tension in Holly’s shoulders eased, and her smile widened. “Well then, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Dinner was a joyful chaos of mixed flavors and overlapping conversation.
Daniel found himself eating lasagna and pot pie on the same plate, the combination oddly satisfying.
The mashed potato faces made him laugh every time he looked at them, and the snickerdoodle reminded him of his carefree childhood.
Throughout the meal, Daniel couldn’t stop watching Holly. She’d done all this. For him.
She gets us. She understands what we need, he told his bear.
It’s time, his bear replied.
It is, Daniel agreed.
As they finished dinner, Maisie suddenly jumped up. “We almost forgot the best part!” She ran from the room, returning moments later with a small, handmade booklet tied with a ribbon.
“We made you this,” she said, presenting it to Daniel with ceremonial gravity.
Daniel untied the ribbon carefully, aware of both children watching with bated breath. Inside were pages of colorful coupons, each one decorated with drawings and carefully printed text.
“One morning to sleep in,” he read aloud, flipping through the pages. “Unlimited hugs. One day, when you can say ‘no dishes’ and we’ll wash up.”
The simplicity of the gifts brought a lump to his throat. These weren’t store-bought presents but offerings of themselves, pieces of their hearts given freely.
By those to whom he’d already given the whole of his heart.