Page 1 of Mismatched Mates (Special Bear Protectors)

JANE

T he sizzle of bacon filled the kitchen as I flipped pancakes with one hand and poured orange juice with the other. Morning light spilled through the window, brightening the kitchen island where Lance and Brandon, still bleary-eyed, waited with their messy hair and early-morning yawns.

“Alright, guys,” I said, sliding golden pancakes onto their plates. “Eat up. We’ve got a busy day.”

Lance’s fork clinked against his plate as he reached for the syrup. “Mom, next time, can we have chocolate chips?”

I laughed, ruffling his hair. “Maybe this weekend, if you finish all your chores.”

I watched them eat, feeling that quiet happiness that crept in during times like these—simple moments, familiar and warm. As I sipped my coffee, my gaze drifted to the calendar on the fridge, a red circle reminding me of an upcoming parent-teacher school night. A familiar twinge of anger rose within me, but I let it go.

“Did you both pack your permission slips for the field trip?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

Brandon nodded, cheeks full of pancake, while Lance’s eyes went wide. “Oops,” he mumbled, hopping out of his chair.

I shook my head with a smile. “I put it in your backpack last night. You’re covered.”

Lance settled back down, relieved, stirring his eggs absently. A pensive look crossed his face, replacing his usual grin. “Mom?” he asked, voice soft.

“Yes, sweetie?”

He looked up at me, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think Daddy misses us?”

I froze, coffee halfway to my lips. A wave of emotions hit—anger, sorrow, protectiveness all swirling at once. Taking a steadying breath, I set down my mug and knelt by his chair, cupping his face and managing a smile. “I know he thinks about you both all the time.”

It wasn’t exactly the whole truth, but Lance didn’t need to know that.

“Really?” he asked, a flicker of hope lighting his eyes.

I nodded, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. “Really. You and Brandon are pretty unforgettable.” I tapped his nose, bringing a giggle that softened some of the ache inside.

As I stood, I caught Brandon watching me. His gaze held a quiet understanding that seemed beyond his age. I winked, our silent agreement—sometimes, love meant shielding each other from hurt.

“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands with a grin, “who’s helping me get this kitchen cleaned up before the bus comes?”

The awkward moment passed, and the boys jumped to help. This was our family now; just me and the boys.

Under the watchful gaze of the pale full moon, a crowd of smokers congregated outside Thicket a regular just made sure to keep out of fist range.

The crowd parted slightly as I moved through, curious eyes tracking my steps. To my left, a group of burly bear shifters huddled around a table, their massive frames taut as they watched the pack of wolves lounging by the bar. The wolves, in turn, flashed their teeth in silent challenge.

"Neutral ground," I muttered quietly, "doesn't feel very neutral right now." I took a steadying breath, pushing aside unwelcome reminders of better times.

Memories belonged in the past. Tonight was about moving on.

Spotting Jason across the room, looking like a lost puppy, I made my way over to his table. He greeted me with a tentative smile and a drink, as if that would erase months of heartache and betrayal.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” he announced as a greeting, placing the drink in front of me with a flourish. “Just the way you like it.”

"Oh, whiskey on the rocks, how original," I quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Just what every woman dreams of being wooed back with."

For a man who had paraded his fling around like a shiny trophy for all to see, he was equally clueless about how to win me over. But hey, at least he remembered my drink order, right?

Outwardly, my face remained composed but despite the hurt and anger, a tiny seed of doubt sprouted. I could never forgive what he’d done, but I wondered if keeping the family together was better for the boys.

I brushed the thought aside and ignored the drink. Better to do this sober, anyway—alcohol tended to complicate, rather than clarify situations. “You must be getting me confused with that chick you had on the side. Poor thing. Moved on to bigger and better things now, has she?”

His smile slipped for a second. “Don’t be like that, Jane.”

“Like what?” I whipped my phone out of my clutch, momentarily pausing at the picture of the twins on my lock screen. It was a timely reminder of why I worked so hard and why I needed to be strong, now more than ever. I scrolled through my emails, checking none had come through from clients since I’d logged off at home twenty minutes ago.

“Bitter. I made a mistake, but everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

Bitter . Wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, and probably wouldn’t be the last. “A mistake is forgetting to take out the trash or sleeping through your alarm.”

I glared at him and clicked on a new enquiry email. “But abandoning your family for a midlife fling isn’t just a quaint little slip-up we can all laugh about later."

Through my lashes, I glanced up at him. Once upon a time, I’d found him handsome. Dashing even. And I thought I’d loved him—enough to ignore all the warning signs. That’s the thing, when you love someone, they don’t need to lie to you. You lie to yourself.

I was done lying.

He rested his elbows on the table, trying and failing to assault me with puppy dog eyes. “You know I’m sorry. I’m trying to connect with you.”

I fired off an email response on my phone—a much more productive use of my time. “Wow, stellar effort.You chose the loudest bar in Pine River, the one filled with wolves and bears dying for a fight, and thought a solitary drink would help us connect ?”

I clung to sarcasm and snark, my weapons of choice. Either that, or give in to the familiar pull of shared history. But the kids deserved better. I deserved better.

He tried again. “I miss you… and the kids.”

“You've got a funny way of showing it. Quite the disappearing act.” My words came out harshly, but it was one thing to hurt me, to embarrass me, but hurting Lance and Brandon—that’s one thing I couldn’t forgive.

“Let’s cut to the chase, because begging is not your forte. Not that I know what is.” I looked down at my phone. Another two emails had come in. Running a party planning business required constant diligence; things could go awry in minutes. “The answer’s no, by the way.”

He lunged across the table, grabbing my wrist. “Stop working for one goddamned second and look at me, Jane. You know you don’t mean that.”

My bear growled a low warning, and Jason’s eyes dipped, mouth opening. His face paled. I slowly looked up, jaw tight.

Jason's hand remained closed around my wrist but to my satisfaction, I felt nothing but resolve to move on.

He plowed on, oblivious. “Think about Luke and Victoria. We could have what they have.”

An unrestrained growl ripped free as I jerked my hand away, and a few people gave us sidelong glances. Probably making bets about whether we’d start a brawl.

“If you ever bring up my brother or his mate again,” I snarled, feeling my canines lengthen, “then you are going home in a body bag. Understand? We will never be like them.

Until Luke had met Victoria, I hadn’t been certain mates existed. But though my brother had found his mate, I certainly hadn’t—I doubted I ever would but that didn’t mean I had to settle. Which, if I was being honest, was exactly what I’d done.

Instead, he sneered. “You’re miserable without me. I bet you don’t even have a date to Luke’s wedding. Face it, Jane, I was the best you were going to get, and if you let go of your pride for one second, you’d see that, too.”

All the hurt turned into rage. It rose, razor sharp, from my gut to my throat. Killing him would be entirely too merciful, never mind messy and illegal, so I went for his jugular the only other way I could. “Oh,” I said, voice sickly sweet, “didn’t you hear?”

The triumph drained a little from his face. “Hear what?”

“The grapevine must be a little slow. I do have a boyfriend,” I lied with a smile. “And he’s coming to the wedding.”

The moment I got home and input the data from the client email chain into my spreadsheet, I called Heather. She answered on the very first ring. “I made a mistake,” I blurted immediately.

“Oh, you mean—hello wifey, the person I would have married if only you had a penis, how wonderful it is to hear your voice.”

I rolled my eyes. There was a note on my fridge reminding me to check certain invoices before sending them off to the accountant.

I snatched that up as I collected my laptop and poured myself a generous glass of red wine, the earthy aroma filling my nostrils as I swirled it gently. “I’m being serious.”

“Is there a time when you’re not being serious?”

“Sometimes I wonder why I call you.” I opened the laptop to my spreadsheets, where neat rows corralled information and numbers tallied themselves through the magic of formulas. The irony was not lost on me, as a supernatural creature who believed order was the highest form of magic.

Mom had the boys tonight, and the house felt a little hollow without them, like its beating heart had been plucked from its chest. It creaked softly in the silence, echoing the emptiness I felt. I padded across the cool hardwood floor to the living room, sinking into the plush couch and pulling a soft throw over my legs.

“Because I’m like a fungus,” she said in a sing-songy voice. “I grow on people; by the time they realize it, it’s too late. Anyway, what kind of mistake? And how amused am I going to be by it?”

What a weirdly accurate self-characterization. “It’s about Jason,” I clarified.

“Ohhhh. I thought you were going to tell me something new.”

“I met up with him at Thicket even the soothing array of data in a spreadsheet couldn’t mollify me.

I paused, surprised by the twinge of something in my chest. Not longing, exactly, but a sense of loss—because sometimes the hardest thing about a break-up was letting go of the plans you’d made together; the life you’d envisioned. I shook my head, banishing the thoughts.

“That’s not the worst part,” I admitted, steeling myself.

Heather let out another peal of laughter. “Oh my God. I should have made popcorn.”

Even when I loved her, I hated her. “So, um, after I told Jason I had a boyfriend, Luke overheard and came over to congratulate me and tell me that Victoria’s going to be so excited.”

“Ah. And you’ve been ever so gracious to Victoria. How ever will she return the favor?” Heather deadpanned.

“Oh shut it. This means that either I admit to them I was lying—and I would rather jump in a vat of acid—or I need to find a boyfriend ASAP.”

Heather’s giggles stopped as she contemplated my situation. “That’s not going to happen. Your only option is to tell him.”

How pathetic was it that I actually agreed with her on my almost non-existent chance of finding a boyfriend before the wedding?

“He’s probably told half the family by now.”

And the clan. A little ping of guilt blossomed. I didn’t like keeping secrets from Heather, but as a human, I couldn’t tell Heather that part.

“It’s so embarrassing.” I blew out a long breath. “In case it wasn’t clear, I called you because I was hoping you’d have an answer that doesn’t require me changing my name and moving to Seattle.”

“Seattle,” she mused. “Interesting choice.”

“A reminder that’s not actually an option.”

“You need a professional.”

“Did I say I was being serious?”

“And for once, so am I! Please follow along closely. Do you know anyone who used a professional to find a date?”

I froze, fingers poised over my laptop’s keys. The blood was sluggish in my veins, and every instinct rebelled against the idea. My mom, Luke’s kids and I had ganged up to guilt Luke into using Victory Matchmaking, and despite our initial reservations, the match had been wildly successful.

Victoria was human, but also Luke’s mate. She made him happy and that was what mattered.

But the very idea that I’d need to use a matchmaking service to find a partner grated. Like I somehow wasn’t enough to find one on my own.

Now you know how Luke felt .

“Absolutely not!” I sputtered.

“Okay, buckle up, Nutcracker, because I’m only going to say this once.” Heather paused dramatically for emphasis. “You are, and I say this with love, a control freak. A beautiful control freak with a heart of gold… deep, deep down.”

The next part came out in one rushed breath. “And I’m not saying you need a partner, although I think it would do wonders for your stress levels if you could get your needs met, but I guarantee you’re not about to find someone at home alone with your spreadsheets and emails and whatever else you categorize as fun. Plus,” she added, wheedling a little now, “think how mad it would make Jason.”

That part was tempting.

“Besides,” she said, “what could go wrong?”