Page 11

Hannah

The morning is cool and quiet, the kind of slow, sleepy start that usually soothes me after a restless night. But today, no amount of tea, fresh air, or sunlight filtering through the curtains can ease the tightness in my chest.

I’ve been staring at the wooden bear for the better part of an hour.

It sits on my kitchen table, small but solid, its rough edges smoothed by hands much larger than mine. Cameron’s hands. I run my fingers over the carved surface again, feeling each groove and curve. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, yet, it feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

How long has he been working on this? Was he thinking of me the whole time?

The thought makes my stomach twist—part longing, part frustration.

He’s still trying. Even after everything.

I push my chair back with a sharp scrape and stand, pacing the kitchen. My bare feet slap against the cool wood floors as I move, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

He left me.

He fought for me, protected me, bared himself in a way that no one else ever has. And then he left. He didn’t even give me a chance to figure out what I felt, what I wanted.

Yet… this bear.

This stupid, thoughtful, carved bear is sitting on my table like an apology he doesn’t know how to say out loud.

Damn it.

I grab the figurine and hold it tightly in my hands, the wood warm from my touch. It feels like a challenge, like he’s daring me to decide whether I’m going to let him back in or not.

But the truth is, I already know.

I’ve known since the night he kissed me.

***

The woods are alive with sound as I make my way up the path to Cameron’s cabin. The wind rustles through the trees, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Birds call to each other from overhead, and somewhere in the distance, I hear the steady trickle of the creek.

The air is crisp, biting at my skin, but I don’t care. I’m too focused on the knot of nerves twisting in my stomach, tightening with every step I take.

The cabin comes into view, tucked between the trees like it’s always been there, a part of the forest itself. Smoke curls lazily from the chimney, a sign that Cameron is home.

I stop at the edge of the clearing, clutching the carved bear in one hand. My heart feels like it’s racing and stalling at the same time, each beat loud in my ears.

What am I even going to say to him?

The truth, I tell myself. Just the truth.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders, and march up to the front door before I lose my nerve.

The knock echoes in the quiet, three sharp raps that feel like they belong to someone much braver than me.

For a moment, nothing happens. The cabin stays silent, the only sound is the faint rustling of leaves in the wind.

And then the door opens.

Cameron stands in the doorway, and my breath catches in my throat.

He looks like hell.

His hair is messy, sticking up in all directions like he’s spent the last few days running his hands through it. His face is shadowed with stubble, and dark circles sit under his eyes, as if sleep is something he gave up on a long time ago.

But then his eyes meet mine, and everything else fades away.

“Hannah,” he says, his voice low and rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

“Hi,” I say softly.

For a moment, we just stand there, staring at each other. The tension between us is thick, heavy, but underneath it is something warmer. Something that feels like relief.

“I wasn’t sure if…” He trails off, his hand gripping the edge of the doorframe like it’s the only thing holding him up.

I hold up the carved bear, my fingers tightening around it. “You left this on my porch.”

He nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

My chest tightens, and I take a step closer, holding the bear out toward him. “Why, Cameron? Why now?”

He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About everything I said, everything I didn’t say.”

I wait, letting the silence stretch between us, until he finally looks up again.

“I left because I thought it was the right thing to do,” he says quietly. “Because I thought I was protecting you. But all I did was hurt you.”

“You did,” I say, my voice trembling. “You hurt me, Cameron. You shut me out when all I wanted was to be let in.”

He flinches, as if the words physically hit him, and I take another step closer, closing the distance between us.

“But then you left this,” I say, holding up the bear again. “And now I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve always wanted you, Hannah. From the first moment I saw you at the farmers market, I knew you were different. I knew I couldn’t have you, but I couldn’t stay away.”

His voice breaks, and he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to let someone in without screwing it up.”

I stare at him, my heart pounding. “Then stop running. Stop shutting me out. Stop deciding for me what I can or can’t handle.”

He looks at me, his eyes filled with something raw and vulnerable, and I take a shaky breath.

“I don’t care what you are, Cameron,” I say softly. “Bear, human, whatever. That’s not what matters to me. What matters is that you trust me enough to let me see all of you—even the parts you’re scared of.”

The silence that follows is heavy, charged, and I feel like I’m holding my breath, waiting for him to say something, anything.

Finally, he steps forward, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. His touch is warm, rough, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I love you, Hannah. All of you.”

My chest tightens, and I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Then show me, Cameron. Show me you mean it.”

He leans in slowly, his lips brushing against mine, and I close my eyes, melting into his touch. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepens, his hands sliding around my waist to pull me closer.

I cling to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension between us eases.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, and I feel his breath warm against my skin.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says softly.

“Good,” I whisper, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Because neither am I.”

And for the first time, I believe him.