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Cameron

The gravel crunches under my boots as I leave the farmers market. The bag in my hand feels heavier than it should for just one jar of honey. I know I don’t need any more. I’ve got enough jars piled on my counter to last a lifetime. But the honey isn’t the reason I keep coming back.

It’s her— Hannah .

I glance back over my shoulder once, instinctively, as if she might still be standing there, watching me.

But the market is bustling, and her honey stand is already surrounded by customers.

She’s probably smiling, laughing, and chatting with them like she always does.

She has this way of making everyone around her feel like they belong. Like they matter.

I don’t belong.

And I sure as hell don’t matter.

The bag folds in my grip as I tighten my fist, forcing my eyes forward. The walk back to my cabin stretches out before me, the dirt road winding through the trees that edge Maplewood Grove. It’s a long way to go for something I don’t need, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I never can when it comes to her.

My bear stirs inside me, restless and agitated. It’s been that way ever since I met her. Every time I see her, it gets harder to keep the beast under control. It claws at me, demanding I do something reckless—something stupid.

Like claim her.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, and I shake my head hard, as if I can physically dislodge the thought. No. I can’t.

Hannah is everything I shouldn’t want. Warm, open, kind—she’s a light, and I’m nothing but shadows. I’ve already been reckless enough just by being near her. If she knew the truth about me, she’d run. And I wouldn’t blame her.

The trees close in around me as I leave the main road and head deeper into the woods. The air here is cooler, the shadows longer, and the scent of pine and earth fills my lungs. My cabin lies just ahead, tucked away where no one ever ventures. It’s better this way—safer for everyone.

But even as I step through the door and set the bag on the counter, my thoughts are back at her honey stand. The memory of her smile, the way she leaned against the counter and teased me, her laughter—it all clings to me like the scent of wildflowers on the breeze.

My bear growls, low and insistent, and I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles white.

“Enough,” I mutter under my breath, but it’s no use. The beast doesn’t listen anymore, not when it comes to her .

I glance at the jar of honey sitting on the counter, its golden glow catching the light streaming through the cabin window. It’s stupid, really, the way I keep buying it. I don’t even eat honey. But holding it, having it in my home—it’s like holding a piece of her.

The thought makes me feel like a fool.

Shoving the bag aside, I grab my keys and head back out the door. I need to clear my head, and there’s only one place I can do that.

***

Earl’s workshop smells like sawdust and varnish, the scent hitting me the moment I step inside. The old man is hunched over his workbench, a pair of goggles perched on his head as he sands the edge of a wooden rocking chair.

“Took you long enough,” Earl says without looking up, his gruff voice cutting through the quiet hum of the sander.

“I didn’t realize I was on a schedule,” I reply, shutting the door behind me.

Earl snorts, setting the sander down and pulling off the goggles. He’s been running this woodshop for as long as I’ve been alive, and he’s the only person in Maplewood Grove who knows what I am. He’s also the only person who doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re always on a schedule, kid,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag. “Problem is, it’s the wrong one.”

I cross the room, picking up a piece of sandpaper and running it over the edge of a half-finished table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Earl leans back against the workbench, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes—sharp and knowing—narrow as they fix on me.

“It means you’re wasting your time pretending you don’t care about that girl.”

My hand stills, the sandpaper slipping slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull,” Earl says, his voice flat. “You’ve been mooning over her for months now. Buying all that honey you don’t need. Watching her from the woods like some lovesick fool. You think I don’t notice?”

I grit my teeth, the muscles in my jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple,” Earl counters, pushing off the workbench and stepping closer. “You can’t keep buying honey and pretending that’s all you want.”

His words hit too close to home, and I toss the sandpaper onto the table. “What do you want me to do, Earl?” I snap, my voice harsher than I intend. “Tell her the truth? That I’m not just some guy who lives in the woods—that I’m a goddamn bear shifter? You think she’d stick around after that?”

Earl doesn’t flinch, his expression calm and steady. “I think you’re not giving her enough credit.”

I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “You don’t get it. She’s human. Normal. She deserves someone who can give her a normal life. Not… this .”

I gesture to myself, the frustration boiling over.

Earl watches me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. “You’re scared,” he says finally, his tone softer now.

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die in my throat. Because he’s right.

I’m scared as hell.

Scared of what she’ll think if she finds out the truth. Scared of losing her before I even have her. Scared of what it’ll mean if I let myself want her the way my bear does.

“You don’t understand,” I say quietly, turning away.

“No, I don’t,” Earl says, his voice firm. “But I do know this. You can’t keep running forever. Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to decide if she’s worth the risk.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable.

I don’t respond. I can’t.

Instead, I grab a block of wood from the pile on the floor and set it on the workbench, picking up a carving knife. The familiar weight of it in my hand steadies me, the sharp blade glinting in the light.

Earl doesn’t say anything else, just returns to his rocking chair, the hum of the sander filling the silence.

But his words linger, echoing in my mind as I carve, the wood chips falling like snow onto the floor.

***

By the time I leave the workshop hours later, the sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of deep blue and gold. The walk back to my cabin is quiet, the only sounds are the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

My thoughts are anything but quiet, though.

Earl’s voice plays on a loop in my mind, his words digging into me like splinters.

You can’t keep running forever.

The cabin feels cold and empty when I step inside, the darkness pressing in around me.

I set the carving knife on the counter and stare at the block of wood in my hand.

It’s rough and unfinished, but I can already see the shape of it taking form—a bear, standing tall and proud, its head tilted toward the sky.

I set it down and glance at the jar of honey still sitting on the counter.

Hannah’s face flashes in my mind—her smile, her laugh, the way she looks at me like I’m more than just some shadow in the woods.

My chest tightens, the weight of my own fear threatening to crush me.

I don’t know if I can risk it.

But I don’t know if I can stay away, either.

And that terrifies me most of all.