Page 102 of Mated to the Mountain Bear

“Pull over,” I shout.

Maddox slows the truck, and I’m out before we’ve even fully stopped, dropping to one knee as Jerry crashes into me. His whole body wriggles with excitement, tail whipping so hard, it’s a blur. But it’s not the desperate energy of a dog who’s been abandoned. He’s well-fed, his coat is clean, and he’s radiating happiness.

“Hey boy.” I bury my fingers in his thick coat as confusion wars with the relief of seeing him. “What are you doing here?”

That’s when I catch it. It’s just the faintest whisper clinging to his fur, but my bear surges to life so violently, I nearly shift right here.

Her scent. Fresh. On Jerry.

My hands freeze in his fur as my brain tries to process what this means. Jerry’s here. Her scent is fresh on him. At my cabin.

“Ben?” Maddox’s voice sounds distant. “You okay?”

Jerry barks once, sharp and demanding, then takes off up the path. He stops after twenty feet, looking back at me expectantly, tail wagging.

The message is clear: follow me.

I’m already moving, feet carrying me up the familiar path. My walk becomes a jog, which becomes a full-on sprint as more evidence hits me. Fresh tire tracks on my rarely used driveway.

Behind me, I hear Maddox laugh, but I’m beyond caring. My bear is clawing at my insides, desperate, hopeful, and terrified this is some cruel dream.

The cabin comes into view, and I nearly stumble. Smoke is definitely rising from the chimney, and the porch light is on, welcoming me home, even though it’s barely dusk.

Jerry races ahead and scratches at the door, whining with excitement.

I burst through without knocking, and the world tilts.

The scent of home-cooked food hits me first. Something savory is bubbling on the stove. Then the changes register in rapid succession: a throw blanket I don’t recognize is draped over my couch, there are candles on the coffee table that were never there before, and her shoes, her small, perfect shoes, are lined up next to my boots by the door, like they belong there.

Like they’ve always been there.

My bear is going wild, pushing against my skin, demanding we find her, claim her, and never let her leave again.

I’m still taking it all in when there’s movement in the hallway, and she emerges from the shadows, looking stunned to see me standing in the middle of the living room.

Time stops.

Zara’s back here, in my home. Making herself comfortable, by the looks of things.

She’s wearing one of my huge hoodies over her soft leggings, her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she looks nervous.

Beautiful. Perfect. And mine.

Neither of us moves. Neither of us breathes. We just stare across the room, like we’re afraid the other might disappear if we blink.

“Ben? You okay? Is she staying?” Maddox’s voice drifts from outside but getting closer.

Without breaking eye contact with Zara, I take one big step inside and kick the door shut behind me.

Finally, I suck in a deep breath and hold the air in my lungs before releasing it slowly. My eyes drink in every detail. The way she’s filled my space with her presence has made it a home instead of just shelter. There are wildflowers on the kitchen island. A book on the coffee table. Her slippers are discarded beside the couch.

She follows my gaze as I log all the tiny changes she’s made since I left, and she bites her bottom lip nervously.

“Maybe this was a bit presumptuous...” she starts, and the uncertainty in her voice breaks me from my trance.

The second she speaks, I move.

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