Page 46 of Hero Mine

Hey, something came up. Rain check?

Without waiting for him to answer, she turned off her phone in case he decided to call. She couldn’t talk to him tonight. Couldn’t bear to hear the concern in his voice, knowing she’d disappointed him yet again.

She had been so damn sure she was getting better. But tonight, she was right back at the beginning.

Joy squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep to come. Willing herself to wake up as the woman she used to be.

* * *

The knock on the playhouse door was firm but not demanding.

Joy’s eyes flew open, and she stiffened, pressing her lips together, keeping quiet. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d closed her eyes—had she fallen asleep?

Then Bear’s voice came through the thin wood, low and steady. “Bug, I know you’re in there.”

Her stomach twisted. She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, bringing with it a rush of cold air and the familiar sound of wood shifting under weight as he came inside. The moonlight caught his broad shoulders as he ducked to enter.

He didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, a silhouette in the darkness, looking at her.

“Why didn’t you come up to my place?” His voice broke the silence, even but firm.

Joy swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I was going to.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

Liar.

Bear sighed, shifting his weight. The floorboards creaked beneath him. “Someone mentioned they saw you outside.” A pause. “You stood at the bottom of my steps, then turned around and walked away.”

Her throat tightened. She didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want him to see her like this—weak, frightened, pathetic.

She pushed up onto her elbows, attempting casual indifference. “I sent you a text. I was just tired. Figured I’d come home and go to sleep.”

The words felt hollow, even to her own ears.

Bear didn’t call her out on the lie, but she knew he saw straight through her. He always did.

She expected a lecture. Deserved one. Or, at the very least, she expected him to tell her that she needed to stop constantly letting herself sink back into the hole. That she needed to fight harder. Try harder. Do something but be pathetic.

But he didn’t. Bear sat down beside her on the cot, shifting carefully to keep from tilting it over. His weight made the whole thing dip, nearly rolling her against him.

“It’s not much of a home,” she muttered, hating how small her voice sounded.

Bear just shrugged. “Better than nothing.”

She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. “I was going to come up.” She tried again to explain, but the confession tasted bitter, like failure. “I stood there wanting to.”

Bear’s gaze stayed on her, unwavering in the darkness. “And?”

She swallowed. “And I couldn’t.”

The words barely scraped out, raw and edged with frustration. She shook her head, rubbing her hands over her face. “I thought I was getting better, Bear. I felt like I was. And then our kiss today…”

“Was amazing.” His voice rumbled in the small space.