Page 4 of Beary Mated Christmas

Once I had the car packed, I got in, putting on my road-trip playlist, nothing remotely to do with Christmas. Songs on, bags packed, I got in and made a plan to enjoy the ride and hide from the holiday that changed my life forever.

The roads got worse and worse on my drive up, but I didn’t mind. Being snowed in with my coffee and hot chocolate and treats, not to mention my books, was the best use of my downtime that I could think of. No one to explain my choices to. No one around.

I drove for hours and arrived with no holdups. This was going to be the best alone, unbothered holiday I’d ever had.

Chapter Three

Denali

It had been years since I’d come back home. So many years. It was too painful. Did that make me a weak alpha? Probably, but so be it. I was doing the best I could.

My first year of college, I went back at Christmas. Where else was I going to go? My parents had kept all of the traditions, the house decorated like it belonged in a storybook, food, food, and more food, and, of course, listening to my father’s best Santa impersonation.

But despite all the Christmas joy being spread, I couldn’t enjoy a second of it when everything reminded me of Abel. And I meant everything. The Christmas decorations I’d crafted over the years? Yeah, most of those were made at school as I sat side by side with my bestie. The bicycle in the garage, my mom’s spinach dip he loved so much, the way winter in our village smelled…all of it brought Abel to the forefront of my mine.

Even books in my room reminded me of him. Heck, my mother served me cider in the mug he always used. There was no getting away from my memories while I was there. I was bombarded with reminders of the life I’d never have.

If that was all it was, I might’ve been able to power through. I loved my family and missed them so. But, anytime I went anywhere, there was someone who’d stop me and ask how Abel was doing or if I’d seen him yet. That was too much for me. Slapping on my merry-and-bright face when my wound kept getting gashed open repeatedly wasn’t sustainable.

My brother was the only one in my family who knew what happened. I thought I’d have an ally with him, that he’d help gear all conversations away from my heartbreak. He pulled me aside and suggested I try and contact Abel, rekindle thefriendship. How could I possibly do that, knowing I wanted more than he could ever possibly give? It wasn’t fair to either of us.

It was selfish of me to leave that New Year’s and not come back, but I couldn’t go through that pain again. It was too painful.

So, my sophomore year, I took a work-study position at school, and I kept that all the way through my undergrad. It became my go-to excuse to stay on campus. When my parents asked why I wasn’t coming home for Christmas or the summer, it was easy to say I had to work. I had to pay for my tuition.

They didn’t love it and insisted we video chat every day, but they accepted it. And as those years passed, I got stronger, happier. I was even making friends. Still, the thought of going back broke me into a thousand pieces once again.

When undergraduate years were over, I immediately began my graduate work. It had always been the plan, but continuing to be able to avoid home was a bonus. I worked full-time while taking classes. It wasn’t ideal and pushed my graduation date back, but that was fine. I was liking the work I did and found it good to keep busy.

Life wasn’t the same knowing my happy ending was never coming, but that didn’t mean I needed a pity party, just to focus my energy differently. That’s how work and school became my focus and avoidance became my means of communication. Was it the healthiest way to move forward? Absolutely not, but it was better than crying myself to sleep every night like I did while living at home. Progress.

This year, my family surprised me, telling me they were going to come see me for the holidays. They’d come to see me before, in the summer, Thanksgiving…but Christmas? This was a first.

It was too much for me. I tried to hide from the holidays. I didn’t even own any tree ornaments. Unprepared for their offer, I panic answered in the worst possible way. I lied.

Sorry, I’m trying to finish up this thesis, and I have some research to do in the mountains, and this is the only time I could get off work to do it.

Of course, I didn’t say it to them. No, I chickened out and sent it in a text. They weren’t pleased, but what could I do? Show up and hope I was there?

I booked the first place I could find that had an opening I could afford, wanting the lie to no longer be one. Winter Wonderland Wilderness Lodge. Being stuck in the woods sounded perfect to me. It was a little sketch with the “Winter Wonderland.” They might have a bunch of Christmas fabulousness going on, but that was okay. It was easy enough for me to take my fur and just spend the entire time in the woods, effectively avoiding all of that.

Being a polar bear did have its advantages.

I packed my clothes and a bunch of food to bring with me, and, even though I didn’t want to pretend with the school stuff, I brought what I’d need to work on it. I hadn’t touched my thesis in a month, but I’d said I was working on it and I wanted to at least try to do so.

The drive was beautiful. I loved the time of year. My bear adored it, and it had been a while since I let him out, so this was going to be good for us. When they said wilderness, they weren’t kidding. It was tucked away in the middle of nowhere. Absolutely perfect.

I prepaid online, so check-in only meant grabbing the key and looking at the map to find my cabin. It was cute, not too big, fairly rustic, and pretty much what I expected based on their website. I left my luggage on the couch and didn’t botherto unpack. I planned to shift soon, to let my bear out, and who knew when he’d want to come back.

Then I the groceries. I had enough food for my entire visit and more. If hunting here was bad or my bear wasn’t feeling the area, I was all set. I didn’t want to have to worry about going into town or using the restaurant on the property. There was no way to avoid Christmas doing that.

Everything put away, I headed to the bedroom and plopped on the bed, letting out a long sigh of relief. I was managing to avoid Christmas once more.

What was Abel doing? Was he back home? I was careful not to ever ask about him, but, this time of year, it was nearly impossible.

Initially, my parents would offer information about him every time I called. I didn’t know how he did it, but my brother shut them down. He wasn’t always the best communicator, but he was a protective brother and I appreciated him more than he could ever know. If he hadn’t been there those last six months at home…I don’t know how I’d have survived.

Maybe I should’ve let my family visit me. Maybe this was all a mistake.