Page 78 of Jealous Lumberjack

She says it’s going to be fine, and I believe her.

I believe her because I love her. Because I’d do anything for her.

Heaven take me, I love Lily Hartley with every feral atom in my body.

So I’m going to walk into this fair. I’m going to hold her hand and stand behind her when she laughs and maybe even let her talk me into some fried bullshit neither of us needs.

I’m going to enjoy myself, even if it kills me.

No. No more talk of killing. No more talk of death.

Unless one of these bastards looks too hard at my petal. Or dares to speak to her. Or, fucking hell, tries to touch.

My vision tunnels, chest tightening and just like that, the spiral starts again.

She moves this time.

Climbs straight into my lap, straddling me in the driver’s seat. My arms go around her instantly, holding her tight against me as if my body knows what I need before my brain does.

She kisses me.

Slow at first, then deeper, wetter, until she’s stealing the air from my lungs, the ground from under my feet. Her pink tongue tangles with mine, her hands fist in my shirt, and I swear I’d let her rip my heart out of my chest if she asked sweetly enough.

When she finally pulls back, her lips are shiny and swollen, her breath shaky. She leans close, mouth brushing my ear.

“Come buy me a funnel cake, big guy,” she whispers, the words wrapping chains around me. “Watch me eat it knowing I’m so wet for you. That you get to put your Big Bear inside me tonight when we’re done. No one else, hmm?”

A growl rips from my chest before I can stop it.

Pure, primal, feral. “Let’s go.”

I shove the door open, climb out, and hold my hand out for her. She takes it, smiling like she just won something.

And maybe she did.

Because she’s the only one who’s ever tamed The Grizzly.

And tonight, she’s going to pay for it—in the best possible way.

Lily

The fair smellslike spun sugar and fried dough, and I swear my heart hasn’t stopped fluttering since we got here.

Strings of lights crisscross overhead, glowing soft against the purple twilight. Stalls line the paths in bright red, yellow, and green, each one hawking something different: caramel apples, candied nuts, corn dogs sizzling on skewers. Kids dart between their parents, clutching balloons, squealing at the carnival rides.

It feels alive, this place. Alive in a way I haven’t felt in so long I almost forget what it’s like.

And beside me, Bear is a living storm.

He hasn’t let go of my hand once, his massive palm engulfing mine.

He hasn’t stopped scowling either, every muscle in his body drawn tight, eyes scanning every stranger like he’s daring them to take one wrong step.

But he’s here. For me.

“See? It’s not so bad. People, music, food on sticks. It’s… normal.”

His scowl deepens. “Too many eyes. Too many mouths.”