Page 9

Hannah

The woods are alive with noise—the wind whispering through the trees, the faint hum of insects, the rustle of leaves under my boots. But all I hear is the sound of my heart pounding, steady and relentless, like it’s trying to drown out every thought in my head.

I keep walking, even though I don’t know where I’m going. The farmhouse feels too small, too suffocating, and I can’t stay there, not after what I saw.

Not after him.

Cameron.

The image of him—his massive bear form, bloodied and snarling—flashes in my mind, and I shake my head, trying to push it away. But it lingers, clinging to me like a shadow. The thing is, it’s not the bear that scares me.

It’s him.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I thought I knew him.

I stop at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree and pressing my hand to my chest, trying to calm the frantic rhythm of my heart. The air is cool against my skin, but it does nothing to quiet the storm inside me.

The truth is, I don’t know what to feel.

He lied to me. He kept this huge part of himself hidden, and now that I know, I can’t stop wondering what else he’s been hiding. What else he’s been running from.

Yet…

I can still see the way he looked at me last night, raw and vulnerable, like he was terrified of what I’d think. Like he was bracing himself for me to scream, to run, to hate him.

But I didn’t.

I wasn’t afraid of the bear. I wasn’t even afraid of him.

I was afraid of how much I still wanted him, even after everything.

“Hannah.”

The sound of his voice cuts through the quiet like a blade, low and rough, and I turn slowly to see him standing a few yards away, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees.

For a moment, neither of us moves. He looks wrecked—his clothes rumpled, his hair mussed, and his eyes… God, his eyes. They’re stormy and dark, filled with something I can’t name, something that makes my chest ache.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.

“I needed to see you,” he says, taking a cautious step forward. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

I let out a bitter laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. “You mean after you turned into a bear in my backyard? Or after you ran off without a word?”

He flinches, his jaw tightening, and for a second, I feel a pang of guilt. But then I remember everything he’s kept from me, and that guilt twists into something harder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “I should have told you. I should have been honest with you from the start.”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice trembling. “You should have.”

He takes another step closer, his gaze searching mine. “I was scared, Hannah. Scared of what you’d think, scared of losing you.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I snap, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “You don’t get to lie to me and then act like it was for my own good. That’s not how this works, Cameron.”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking. “I know I screwed up, okay? But I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” I demand, throwing my hands up. “From you? Because that’s what it feels like. Like you’re so afraid of what you are that you’ve convinced yourself I should be afraid, too.”

He doesn’t respond, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, and the silence between us feels heavy, suffocating.

“You don’t get it,” he says finally, his voice low and rough. “You don’t understand what it’s like to have this… thing inside you. To know that if you lose control, even for a second, you could hurt the person you care about most.”

My chest tightens at his words, and for a moment, I almost soften. Almost.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice quieter now. “Why didn’t you trust me, Cameron?”

He looks at me then, his gray eyes filled with so much pain it makes my breath catch. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I take a shaky step back, my arms wrapping around myself.

“Do you know what hurts the most?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not the bear. It’s not even the fact that you lied. It’s that you didn’t trust me enough to let me in. You decided for me, and now I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

He steps toward me, his hand outstretched, but I take another step back, shaking my head.

“Hannah, please,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. Just… don’t walk away.”

My chest aches at the desperation in his voice, but I force myself to stand my ground.

“I need time, Cameron,” I say, my voice trembling. “I need time to figure out what this means, what we mean. And I can’t do that with you standing here, looking at me like that.”

He freezes, his hand dropping to his side, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Take all the time you need.”

I turn away, my heart pounding, and start walking back toward the farmhouse.

“Hannah,” he calls after me, his voice raw.

I stop, but I don’t turn around.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, his voice barely audible, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and bittersweet, and I close my eyes, letting them wash over me.

But I don’t respond.

I keep walking, even though it feels like my heart is breaking with every step.

And when I reach the farmhouse, I don’t look back.