Chapter Nine – Christopher
This must be the longest night ever, Christopher’s bear grumbled as they finally finished the list of chores Gretel had left for him.
And it’s not even the witching hour, Christopher said, glancing at the clock as he entered the office and shrugged off his coat, hanging it by the door before he poured himself a cup of coffee.
But he might need more than coffee to stay awake tonight. He needed sleep.
So we’re refreshed, ready for another day of showing our mate Bear Creek, his bear said as he settled down happily for a snooze.
I have other chores to do and can’t sleep on the job, Christopher told his bear firmly.
Not even for our mate? his bear complained, still longing for rest.
Not even for our mate, Christopher replied, settling into the worn office chair. He placed his coffee mug on the desk and began unlacing his snow-dampened boots. Once they were removed, he stretched out his legs and wriggled his toes in front of the fire.
Ah, bliss.
The fire crackled in the small hearth, casting dancing shadows across the wooden walls.
Christopher leaned back, allowing himself just a moment’s respite from his chores.
His bones felt heavy, his muscles aching from the day’s exertions.
Who knew sledding could make a grown man feel eight years old and eighty all at once?
He took a long sip, savoring the bitter warmth as it spread through his chest. Christopher’s eyelids grew heavy as he stared into the flames.
As if in a trance, his awareness shifted, stretching outward from the office, past the trees, to Cabin 7.
Sorcha. Even with his eyes closed, he could sense her presence.
The connection between them had certainly strengthened over the course of the day.
She was sleeping; he could sense the slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing. What he wouldn’t give to be lying beside her with his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.
Just a few more days and she’ll be gone, his bear reminded him mournfully.
Christopher’s chest tightened. How could he let her leave when every instinct told him she belonged here, with him? The weight of exhaustion pressed harder, his eyelids growing impossibly heavy as the fire’s warmth enveloped him…
A blast of cold air jolted him awake. Christopher’s eyes flew open, the coffee mug nearly slipping from his grasp as he jerked upright. Three familiar figures stood in the doorway, snow dusting their shoulders and boots.
“Hi there, Sleeping Beauty,” Daniel said with a broad smile, stamping his feet on the welcome mat to knock off the snow.
Christopher blinked, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “Hi,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He sat up straighter, embarrassed at being caught dozing. “What are you guys doing here?”
Michael closed the door behind them, shutting out the cold. His dark hair was flecked with snowflakes that were already beginning to melt in the office’s warmth. “We thought we would come and give you some moral support since you have met your mate.”
“You told them?” Christopher looked at Daniel, though there was no real accusation in his tone. Of course, his friends would find out. Bear Creek was small, and shifter news traveled fast. Especially when that news had to do with a shifter finding their mate.
“Teddy kind of did,” Daniel admitted, unwinding his scarf. “He could tell when he saw you and Sorcha together earlier.”
“Of course,” Christopher nodded, not really surprised. Teddy might not have experienced his first shift yet, but those shifter instincts were still there. He held out his empty cup as Michael offered a refill. “Thanks.”
Michael filled Christopher’s mug before pouring cups for James and Daniel. The rich aroma of fresh coffee filled the small space, momentarily chasing away Christopher’s fatigue.
“I brought pastries,” Daniel announced, setting a white bakery box on the desk. He flipped open the lid to reveal an assortment of his signature treats, still warm enough to release tendrils of cinnamon-scented steam. “But you look as if you need sleep more than anything.”
Christopher cradled his refreshed coffee, the warmth seeping through his stiff fingers. “I was on duty here last night, and then I went out with Sorcha for the day…”
“And now you’re doing another shift,” Michael finished, his voice tinged with concern.
“Yep.” Christopher nodded, the simple movement requiring more effort than it should have.
“Well, it’s a good thing that you have friends like us,” James said, settling into one of the visitor chairs.
Christopher eyed him warily. “It is?”
“Yeah,” Daniel grinned, giving Christopher’s arm a light punch. “We are here to help.”
“You are?” Christopher asked, his tired brain struggling to process their words.
Michael chuckled as he reached for a pastry. “You really do need sleep, don’t you?” He bit into a cinnamon roll, making an appreciative sound. “Oh, cinnamon roll, my favorite.”
James leaned forward, his normally serious face softening with concern. “We’ve come to help you finish your chores so that you can get some shuteye.”
“Hey, guys, you don’t have to…” Christopher began, but Daniel cut him off.
“We do,” he insisted, selecting a pastry from the box. “This is important to you, so it’s important to us.”
“Yeah,” James added quietly. “You would do the same for us.”
Christopher couldn’t argue with that. “I would,” he agreed, reaching for a pastry. He bit into the flaky, buttery dough, sugar, and cinnamon exploding across his tongue. “Oh, this is just what I need.”
For a few minutes, they ate in companionable silence; the pastries disappearing one by one. The simple act of sharing food with friends was already reviving Christopher’s spirits.
When the box held nothing but crumbs, Michael stood and reached for his coat. “All right, let’s get to it. What’s left on your list?”
Christopher pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket, squinting at Gretel’s neat handwriting. “Paths need clearing between Cabins 3 through 7, the generator for the main building needs checking, and there’s more firewood to chop and distribute.”
“Divide and conquer,” James suggested, always the strategist. “I can handle the generator.”
“I’ll take the woodpiles,” Michael offered. “My truck’s loaded with split logs already.”
“Which leaves us with snow clearing,” Daniel nodded to Christopher. “I’ll help you with that, and we’ll be done in half the time.”
Christopher stared at his friends, a lump forming in his throat. They’d all forgone their warm beds just to help him. Because they understood what finding his mate meant, even if Sorcha herself didn’t yet.
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice rougher than usual.
Michael clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say anything. Just get your boots on so we can finish these chores and get you to bed.”
Outside, the night had cleared, stars punching bright holes in the velvet darkness. Their breath clouded before them as they split up, each heading toward their assigned tasks. Daniel grabbed two shovels from the maintenance shed, handing one to Christopher.
“So,” Daniel said as they began clearing the path to Cabin 3, “tell me about her.”
Christopher smiled despite his exhaustion. “She’s…everything,” he said simply, unable to find words adequate to describe Sorcha. “Smart. Beautiful. Curious about everything. But she’s only here to write an article, and then she’s gone.”
Daniel nodded, his shovel scraping rhythmically against the snow-packed walkway. “Don’t worry about it. She belongs here. She’ll soon see that.”
“I hope so,” Christopher replied. “But convincing Sorcha might be more difficult. She’s spent her whole life running from small towns.”
“People change,” Daniel said with the quiet confidence of someone who had witnessed such transformations. “Finding your mate has a way of rearranging priorities. Or so I am told…”
They worked steadily, the repetitive motion of shoveling lulling Christopher into a meditative state.
Beyond the trees, he could still sense Sorcha sleeping peacefully in Cabin 7.
The connection between them seemed to strengthen with each passing hour, a tether that pulled taut when they were apart.
His bear stirred restlessly. We should be there, by her side as she sleeps.
Soon, Christopher promised. But first, we have responsibilities.
By the time they met back at the office, the night had grown older, with the moon hanging low over the western ridge. James had fixed the generator, Michael had restocked all the woodpiles, and the paths were clear enough for guests to navigate safely in the morning.
“That’s everything,” Michael announced, brushing wood chips from his jacket. “Now you can get some rest.”
Christopher looked at his friends, overwhelmed with gratitude. “I don’t know how to thank you guys.”
“You don’t have to,” James said simply. “That’s what friends are for.”
Daniel nodded in agreement. “Now, get to bed.”
They said their goodbyes with handshakes and brief, tight hugs—the physical reassurance of bonds that went beyond words. As they drove away, Christopher locked the office and headed toward his cabin, his boots crunching through fresh snow.
He paused halfway to his door, turning to look at Cabin 7 in the distance.
His bear pushed forward, urging him to go to her, to see if she needed anything.
But Christopher resisted, turning back toward his own cabin.
She needed space, time to process whatever was happening between them.
And he needed sleep if he was going to have any chance of convincing her to stay.
Tomorrow, he promised his bear as he unlocked his door. Tomorrow we’ll show her everything Bear Creek has to offer. Everything we have to offer.
His bear settled down to sleep, somewhat appeased by this plan. But as Christopher fell into bed, not even bothering to undress fully, one thought followed him down into dreams: how do you convince someone who’s spent their life running that staying put could be the greatest adventure of all?