Page 5 of Beary Mated Christmas

Chapter Four

Abel

Whistling a tune far from anything even close to “Jingle Bells,” I picked up one of my boxes of food and a duffle bag. I considered trying to pick up more, but I took a long, deep breath and reminded myself that I wasn’t in a hurry. Not one bit. No one was waiting on me. No kids were chomping at the bit to get class started. No bells ringing above me. For the near future, in fact, I refused to even look at my phone or a clock. Screw time and deadlines and class blocks. This holiday was mine to enjoy slowly and peacefully.

I walked up to the cabin and wondered why the front desk had taken so long to find the key. I’d been here before and they had never had to look twice. For some reason, today, they acted as though the key to the cabin was something they’d lost. Weird.

Up the small walkway, I stopped to enjoy the view. From this vantage point, I could see the snow-topped mountains and pine trees that bowed with the weight of ice. It even smelled like winter up here. Not Christmas but winter.

I pulled the key out of my pocket and scooted the box to rest on my hip. The key was on an older key ring, and the cabin number worn on the tag. Maybe someone lost the original key and they gave me this one before they had a chance to copy it. Or maybe the one in my hand was the original. Didn’t matter, I supposed, as long as it worked.

I should’ve known better than to think that. The key stuck as I inserted it. Like there was glue on every single tooth. Finally, it went in, but the damned thing wouldn’t turn. I hefted the box to the side and put all my weight against the key, but it still wouldn’t budge. And then the door opened and I stumbled inside, box, bag, pride, and all.

“What the heck?” I said, looking up to see who had opened the door. As I took him in, all my breath whooshed from my lungs. My heart stopped. The world might’ve stopped. It was Denali. Older Denali. Twice-as-hot Denali. The bear who left me high and dry so long ago.

Once my best friend.

Once the love of my life.

“Abel?” he rumbled in a voice more bass than I remembered.

“What are you doing in my cabin?” I asked, looking around for a camera or someone to jump out and tell me this was all a big mistake.

“Your cabin? I booked this place for the holiday,” he said, stepping back.

“No, I booked this place on New Year’s Day. This is my cabin. There has to be some mistake. I’ll get out of your way and call the office.”

“No, come in. It’s getting cold outside.”

Denali inviting me into a cabin that I booked—years after I last saw him—wasn’t on my agenda, but here I was. We just had to figure out this mistake and get it fixed. Now. The goof was cutting into my reading time.

“Fine.” I stepped inside. Another key with the same cabin number was on the table along with a receipt for his reservation. I put my box and bag next to his on the couch and pulled out my phone.

“This is Abel Walker. I reserved cabin seven, but there’s another person here who says they also booked this cabin.” The person at the office asked me who was there. “His name is Denali Ashe.” More questions. “Yes. I have a key, and he has a key.” And then came the inevitable bad news. They had double-booked us. “Well, are there any vacancies?”

No. Not a one. Denali had taken my heart years ago, and now he had claimed my vacation sanctuary as his own.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I asked the person. They didn’t know. They were very sorry about it though. Which didn’t help me one bit.

I hung up the phone and faced my fate. “They said it was accidentally double-booked.” I sighed, looking around the place, already lamenting my plans gone down the drain. “I’ll leave. You got here first. Enjoy your holidays.”

“No, Abel, wait. You reserved it before me. Let me go. I can be out of here in five minutes.”

I almost agreed. Keeping my walls up had become second nature.

He had hurt me, and holding onto that hurt felt like comfort sometimes.

My wolf didn’t like that at all. In truth, my wolf felt more at ease in this minute of chaos than he had in years. Ever since Denali left me.

“No. Denali, no. It’s okay. We’re both adults. There is enough room.”

He stepped forward and I realized how much leaner he was. He used to eat anything and everything in sight, and now, he was so muscly and at the same time almost painfully lean. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, and I wondered why.

Hadn’t his omega noticed how he’d lost weight? Hadn’t they been taking care of each other?

Was Denali sick or suffering some shifter illness?

“I don’t want to hurt you—more than I already have.”