Chapter Twenty-One – Daniel
Daniel arrived at Pine Hollow Lookout forty minutes early, unable to stay away. The winter wind cut across his face as he paced back and forth near his truck, leaving deep tracks in the pristine snow. He stopped every few moments to scan the winding road below, searching for any sign of movement.
He pushed out his shifter senses, straining to catch even the faintest trace of her presence, but couldn’t detect Holly anywhere nearby. The ridge remained silent except for the lonely crunch of snow beneath his boots and the occasional whistle of wind through the pines.
“She’ll come,” Daniel muttered to himself, though each passing second fed the dread gnawing at his insides.
His bear alternated between tense pacing and low, frustrated growls. She’s late.
She’s not late, Daniel corrected. I’m early.
What if she isn’t coming? his bear pressed.
She promised to come, Daniel replied, her words repeating in his head, ‘I’ll see you later’.
What if she chose Andrew? his bear moaned.
The thought pierced Daniel’s heart. He had replayed their brief morning interaction a hundred times in his head. The way Holly had looked at Andrew. The way she had slipped into her coat and walked out without explanation.
The quiet promise to meet him later that now felt terribly fragile.
Daniel fought the impulse to shift and run, to race down the mountain and find her. The need to know clawed at him from the inside, but he forced himself to remain where he stood.
“She needs to come to me,” he said to the mountain as he fought the primal pull. The same intense need his ancestors, who had walked these mountains, had probably experienced. “She needs to choose me. Not for me to hunt her down and pressure her.”
He turned and looked out across the view that stretched for miles—snow-capped mountains rising against a crystalline blue sky, the town of Bear Creek nestled in the valley below like a village in a snow globe.
It was breathtaking, the kind of vista that usually filled Daniel with peace.
Today, he barely saw it. All he could focus on was the empty road and the fear that he might have already lost his chance at happiness with his mate.
Fifteen minutes past their arranged time, Daniel checked his phone again. No messages. No missed calls.
She doesn’t have a phone, he reminded himself as he pulled his beanie lower against the cold and resumed his pacing.
Maybe her car wouldn’t start? his bear suggested.
Yes, maybe it’s her car. Again. That made sense, Daniel reasoned.
Then we need to find her, his bear replied immediately.
“Give her a few more minutes,” Daniel insisted, though his resolve was weakening with each passing moment.
Ten more minutes crawled by. Daniel’s hope faded with each tick of his watch.
He leaned against his truck, eyes closed, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him.
Had he misread everything? The connection between them, the way she fit so perfectly with the children, with him. Had it all been one-sided?
Then, like a whisper in his head, he sensed her. At first, it was so faint he thought he might be imagining it, but as the seconds passed, it grew stronger, louder, unmistakable.
Holly.
Daniel straightened, his heart hammering against his ribs as he stared down the road. Soon, he caught the flash of metal through the trees, the sound of tires on packed snow. Her car rounded the final bend and pulled into the small clearing that served as a parking area.
His knees nearly gave out from the relief. She came.
Holly stepped out of her car looking windswept, flushed, and nervous. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she wore the red coat that now seemed like a part of her. Their eyes met across the snow, and the world went quiet around them.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she called, walking toward him. “The car... I had to sort... It took longer than I expected...”
Daniel couldn’t bear to hear excuses. Not after thinking she was gone for good. He was just incredibly grateful she was here.
He closed the distance between them in long strides, his focus narrowed to nothing but her.
She stumbled forward, meeting him halfway.
Their kiss happened before either of them could overthink it: soft, breathless, inevitable. Her lips were cold from the winter air, but warmed quickly against his. Daniel cradled her face in his hands, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that single moment of connection.
It wasn’t a declaration yet, but it was an answer. The one he’d longed for. I’m here. I chose you.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard, small clouds forming between them in the cold air. Holly’s cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes bright and clear as they held his.
“Holly,” Daniel said, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s a truth I’ve kept from you. Something that explains everything between us.”
She didn’t pull away. She held his gaze with steady trust, which nearly undid him completely. How could she look at him like that? How could she not know what it did to him?
“Tell me,” she said simply.
Daniel took her hand and led her further into the clearing, where the snow lay deep and untouched. “It might be easier to show you,” he said. “Please don’t be afraid.”
He released her hand and stepped back, putting a few feet between them. “What you’re about to see is who I really am.”
Holly nodded, her expression cautious, but she wasn’t afraid. And that gave him hope. And the confidence to trust in their bond. To trust in fate.
Daniel closed his eyes and let go. The air around him crackled and popped as his human form disappeared from the world in an instant. Static electricity filled the air, and then, where Daniel had stood, a huge cinnamon-colored bear now gazed at Holly with familiar amber eyes.
Holly froze, but not with fear. Awe softened her features as she took in the massive creature before her. She blinked several times, as if making sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
“Daniel?” she whispered.
The bear nodded its massive head once.
Holly stepped closer, her hand trembling as she reached out. “May I?”
The bear moved forward to meet her touch. Her fingers sank into his thick fur, and his bear rumbled with pure joy. Our mate. At last.
A laugh bubbled up from Holly’s throat, bright, joyous, and utterly free. She sank to her knees in the snow, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug that Daniel felt to his core.
“It’s still you,” she said against his fur. “I can see you in there.”
Daniel’s bear was ecstatic, playfully nudging her shoulder before flopping onto his back in the snow, rolling from side to side like a cub. Holly’s laughter rang out across the ridge as she watched him, her eyes filled with wonder rather than the fear or disgust he had worried might come.
They spent a while getting to know each other, with Holly stroking his fur, scratching behind his ears, asking questions he answered with nods or head shakes. It was as if at last they were complete.
She accepted him. All of him.