Page 12 of Guard Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #5)

Chapter

Eleven

Joy lifted the grill grate with her tongs, arranging the glowing coals beneath. The familiar ritual steadied her nerves. Six o'clock. Andre would arrive any minute, and her mountain lion hadn't stopped pacing since she'd invited him at the community center.

Smoke curled up from the grill, carrying the sharp scent of mesquite. She'd marinated the steaks in lime juice, cumin, and fresh cilantro—Maria's carne asada recipe passed down from her own mother. The meat glistened with oil and spices, ready for the heat.

Tires crunched on the gravel. Through the trees, she glimpsed Andre's truck. He climbed out carrying a covered pie plate in one hand and a jug in the other.

"Right on time." Joy kept her voice steady, though her pulse thundered.

"I brought dessert." Andre held up the pie, color rising in his neck. "Apple pie from the Honeycrisps I bought when I interviewed Ash and Eliana.”

The sweet-tart scent of baked apples and cinnamon made her mouth water. The crust gleamed golden, with neat crimping and decorative vents. "You made this today?"

"After the meeting." His jaw tightened. "Needed to do something while processing everything. Kept thinking about standing in that burned orchard with them, hearing what they went through."

She understood. Her own hands had sought familiar work—checking hives, testing cameras. Anything to channel the anger. "It looks perfect."

"These apples are something else. Eliana wasn't exaggerating." He shifted the cider jug. "This is from their farm stand too."

Joy took the pie, its weight substantial. Still warm from the oven. "Come on. Steaks need to go on." Andre followed her to the small outdoor table, already set for two.

"What can I do?" He set the cider down.

"Salad's in the kitchen. Blue bowl in the fridge." Joy adjusted the grill vents. "Dressing's in the door."

He disappeared into her tiny house without hesitation. No lingering, no investigating. Just doing what she asked. Her mountain lion approved.

The steaks sizzled as they hit the grates. Char-smoke rose immediately. Behind her, Andre emerged with the salad bowl and balsamic dressing.

"Table?" he asked.

"Perfect. Glasses are in the dish drainer if you want to pour cider."

They moved around each other easily. He found her citronella candles, lighting them as shadows lengthened. Lemony smoke mixed with grilling meat and apple sweetness.

"I keep seeing their faces," Andre said quietly, filling glasses. "Eliana talking about those heritage trees. Theo describing cut ropes."

"Mateo's Emma's age." Joy flipped the steaks, noting perfect grill marks. "My cousin on my dad’s side. The thought of someone taking her..."

"They're escalating." His knuckles went white on the jug. "From property damage to kidnapping. What's next?"

The question hung heavily between them.

"That's why the Muellers looked ready to bolt." She glanced at him. "Forty years on Main Street, and they're thinking about running."

"We won't let it happen." Not bravado. Quiet determination. "The Initiative, the patrols—we're going to stop this."

Joy wanted to believe him. But she'd seen her neighbors' fear and had felt the same thing when her goats had scattered. "How do you stay hopeful? After everything you've seen?"

Andre watched the citronella flames dance. "Giving up means they win. And I've seen what happens when good people give up." Pain flickered across his features before he smoothed it away.

"How do you like your steak?" She lifted one, checking doneness.

"However you're making them." He managed a smile. "I trust you."

Trust. Such a simple word that meant everything. Joy plated both steaks, meat releasing savory steam. "Hope you're hungry."

They sat at the table together. Evening light had gentled to gold-green, air carrying hints of cooling earth and distant pine. Joy cut into her steak. Red juice pooled perfectly. Andre made an appreciative sound at his first bite.

"This is incredible. That marinade—lime and cumin?"

"Mom's recipe. She brought the steaks yesterday." Joy cut another piece, savoring the char and lime.

"Nothing beats family recipes." He added salad to his plate. "Though my sister Megan says I've ruined Tommy for normal cookies. He won't eat store-bought anymore—tells everyone they need more chocolate chips like Uncle Andre makes."

"You must miss him." Joy kept her tone gentle, remembering how his face lit up talking about his nephew.

"Every day." His voice softened. "Our Sunday video calls help, but it's not the same as being there.

He keeps asking when I'm coming back to visit.

" Andre took a sip of cider, then smiled.

"But Megan's actually bringing the family up here in a few months.

She booked a cabin at the lodge for a long weekend. "

"That's wonderful." Joy could see his excitement breaking through. "Tommy must be thrilled."

"He is. He's already got a list of what he wants to do when he gets here.

" Andre's dimples appeared. "Number one is baking cookies together.

Number two is running wild through the forest in bear form.

He's only five, so his bear is still small, but he's been stuck in Portland suburbs.

Wants to know what real mountain territory feels like. "

The sun painted everything amber. This felt natural—sharing a meal, talking about simple things while the morning's revelations were pushed aside.

"I’m ready for pie," she said, pushing back her empty plate. The pie sliced cleanly. Joy took a bite and closed her eyes. "Oh wow."

"Worth the afternoon effort?" His pleased smile made dimples appear in his cheeks.

"Definitely." Another bite of flaky crust and sweet fruit. "Though I'm biased toward anything with Eliana's apples."

They finished dessert as darkness settled. The citronella candles created a small circle of light. Somewhere distant, a great horned owl called.

"Want to go hang out inside?" The words emerged soft. "We could finish the cider. Or I have tea..."

Andre's eyes found hers across the table. In candlelight, she saw him reading the invitation beneath the words. His breath caught audibly.

"I'd like that." Simple acceptance. No assumption.

They cleared together, movements synchronized. Inside, Joy gestured to the small couch that dominated her main space. Joy sat in the corner of the couch, and Andre settled beside her, close enough that she felt his body heat through the small gap between them.

"Thank you for dinner." His voice rumbled low in the quiet space. "For inviting me in."

"Thank you for dessert." Joy took a sip of cider. "That pie was incredible."

Silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable, but weighted with everything unsaid. Through the window, darkness descended. Joy tucked her feet under her, getting comfortable. The movement made the couch creak, and Andre shifted slightly, maintaining the careful distance between them.

"And also… thank you for helping with the goats. For the cameras. For..." She gestured vaguely. "Trying to protect me. Even when I pushed back."

Something flickered across his face—pain mixed with something else. His hands clenched and unclenched in his lap.

"You don't have to thank me." His voice sounded raw. "I should be apologizing. The way I've been acting, like I know better than you about your own life..."

He trailed off, staring at his hands. The silence stretched. "I need to tell you something." The words came out rough. "About Portland. About why I really left."

Joy's pulse quickened. She set down her glass, turning to face him more fully. "You don't have to?—"

"I do." His jaw clenched, muscle jumping beneath the skin. "If we're going to... if this is going to work, you need to know."

She waited. Her mountain lion had gone perfectly still, recognizing pain about to surface.

"Her name is Sarah Williams." Andre stared at his hands. "My partner for three years. Good cop. Better than me at reading people, talking them down."

The cider trembled in his glass. Joy wanted to touch him but sensed he needed space to get the words out.

"There was a domestic violence call. Routine, we thought.

" His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

"Neighbor reported screaming, things breaking.

We'd been to that apartment before. The husband had a history. "

Andre's breathing had gone shallow. Quick. Like he was back there.

"Protocol said I take the back. Cover the fire escape in case he ran. Sarah took point at the front door." His hand shook harder now. "She knocked. Announced herself. I was already moving to position when?—"

The glass slipped. Joy caught it, setting it safely aside. Andre didn't seem to notice.

"Three shots. Right through the door." His voice cracked. "I heard her scream. By the time I got back around, she was on the ground. Blood everywhere. So much blood."

Tears tracked down his face. He didn't wipe them away.

"Spine. Three bullets, two hit her spine." The words came faster now, like a dam breaking. "She lived. Paralyzed from the waist down. Career over. Life changed forever. Because I followed protocol instead of my instincts."

"Andre—"

"I should have gone first." He turned to her then, eyes wild with old grief. "Every instinct screamed danger. My bear knew something was wrong. But I followed the rules. Let her take point because that's what the book said."

His whole body shook now. Joy couldn't stand it anymore. She shifted closer, taking his face in her hands.

"Look at me." She waited until his eyes focused on hers. "That wasn't your fault."

"I was supposed to protect her."

"You were following procedure. You couldn't have known?—"

"But I did know." His voice broke completely. "Deep down, I knew. And I ignored it. And now she's in a wheelchair for life because I didn't trust my instincts."

Joy's throat tightened. Her thumbs stroked his cheeks, catching tears.

"Is that why you're so protective? Why you can't stand the thought of?—"

"I can't watch anyone else get hurt because I failed to act." The admission scraped raw from his throat. "When I saw your gate destroyed, your goats missing, all I could think was what if they'd come for you instead?"

Joy's chest ached. His pain filled the small space between them, heavy and suffocating. She understood now. Every overreach, every boundary pushed—it all came from this moment. This failure that wasn't really his.

"I have something to tell you too." The words emerged soft but steady. "About why I react so strongly when you try to control things."

Andre's breathing had calmed slightly. He leaned into her touch, eyes never leaving hers.

"My mom was twenty-two. Studying at the Bright Institute, one of the first human students they accepted." Joy's hands slipped from his face to rest between them. "She loved learning about shifters. Thought she was building bridges."

The memory wasn't hers, but she'd heard it enough times to feel its weight.

"There was a cougar shifter named Alex Terry. He fixated on her. Followed her around campus, left gifts at her dorm." Joy's voice hardened. "She turned him down repeatedly. Tried to be kind about it at first, then firm."

Andre's hand found hers, fingers interlacing.

"One night he broke into her room. Threw her roommate against the wall when she tried to intervene.

" Joy's mountain lion snarled at the inherited memory.

"He bit her. Gave her the changing bite against her will.

Said he wanted her broken. Said once she was a shifter, she'd understand they belonged together. "

"Jesus." Andre's grip tightened.

"She went feral. The forced transformation, the trauma—her mind couldn't process it.

She spent three weeks in cougar form, lost in the mountains.

Nearly died." Joy met his eyes, seeing his horror. "My dad found her. Helped her remember how to be human again. But she never forgot what it felt like to have every choice ripped away. That is my animal’s legacy. That is where my cougar originated in my family line.”

Understanding dawned in Andre's eyes. "That's why you?—"

"That's why I panic when someone makes decisions for me. Why I need control over my space, my life." Her voice cracked. "My mother made sure I understood. And I… I feel it in my bones.”

They sat in the weight of shared trauma. His partner bleeding on the concrete. Her mother lost in fur and madness. Different wounds that left similar scars.

"I'm not him." Andre's voice came out fierce. "I would never?—"

"I know." Joy squeezed his hand. "Just like you're not responsible for what happened to Sarah. But our bodies remember. Our instincts get tangled up in old pain."

Andre pulled her against him then, arms wrapping around her like he could shield her from her mother's memories. Joy let herself be held, feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. Strong. Steady. Present.

"I need you to understand something." Andre's voice rumbled through his chest into her bones. "When I see threats, my bear goes crazy. It's not about thinking you're weak. It's about failing someone again."

"And I need you to understand my body remembers my mother’s pain. I’ll destroy anyone who tries to control me." Joy pulled back enough to see his face.

His eyes closed, fresh tears threatening. "I'm trying. God, Joy, I'm trying so hard."

"I know." She touched his face again, thumb brushing his cheekbone. "We both are."

The space between them had shrunk to nothing. His breath feathered across her lips. The air shifted, thickened, charged.