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The shift came easily. I was still grateful for it. It had scared me when I hadn't been able to shift for over a year after the accident, and I never took it for granted now, like I had before.

I hadn’t done it in weeks—months, really. Not since the last run up north, where I’d needed to scare off a rogue that got too close to the Hollow’s edge. But today, the need wasn’t about safety.

It was about escape and getting some clarity.

I walked out past the edge of Cedar Hollow, just where the tree line dipped and the air grew quieter. I stripped off my clothes, folded them the way I always did, and let the bear come.

It rushed up from somewhere deep, bone-deep, as natural as breathing.

One moment, I was a man.

The next, I was Thorne.

Massive and full of fur. My breath steamed in the cold.

The ground felt different under my paws—solid and right.

The air was full of scent, full of life .

My vision sharpened and narrowed; my mind split into something simpler, rawer.

The ache in my chest didn’t go away, but it dulled under instinct.

The bear didn’t think in full sentences. He didn’t need to.

He only knew she was back and that we weren’t whole without her. So I let him run. Through trees that parted around our shoulders. Over creeks still frozen at the edges. Up slopes and down again, until our lungs pulled clean air and the world blurred past.

This was what we were made for—running, surviving, being. No talking. No thinking. Most of all, no guilt.

No ten years of silence unraveling every time she looked at me like I’d never left, like she wanted to scream and sob and kiss me all at once. The bear didn’t know how to fix that. But he knew what he felt when her scent was near. Home.

We slowed only when the sun began to dip, casting long golden fingers through the branches. Thorne snorted once, pawing at a moss-covered stump before settling beside it. He didn’t want to go back.

He didn’t want to shift again and be forced to remember the way she cried, the way she whispered I don’t trust you, even as her fingers clung to me.

He laid his head on his paws to think of her.

Not in memories, not like humans. He thought of her in scent and images.

In sound. In that little huff she made when she was annoyed and trying not to smile.

In the way she tasted when she kissed us—something the bear remembered too well.

She’s still ours.

This was the part I could never quite figure out. The bear Thorne loved Ella as much as I did, but when I was in my human form, Thorne tried everything to make it clear that he didn't like her.

When the cold began to settle deep into our joints, I rose, shook out the ache, and padded back toward the line of trees where I had left my clothes. It was time to go back to work.

Smoke it could have overwhelmed the place with darkness, but the lighter furnishings and lighting broke the shadows off enough to make it look intimate, not oppressive.

My crew was in full swing when I entered. Loud music blared from a boom speaker, trying hard to compete with the sound of a nail gun, a tile cutter, and a chainsaw. After the stillness of the forest, the noise was especially overpowering to my sensitive ears. A headache was unavoidable.

"Hey, boss," Adam yelled. Adam was my superintendent and a gargoyle, who didn't care for his human form too much. He abhorred touch, and his human emotions were too much for him. He preferred to stay in his gargoyle form.

"Hey Adam, how are we coming along?" I shook his cold, stony hand.

"Good, the bathrooms are done, want to see?"

I didn’t. I wanted to get the hell away from all the noise.

But I put on my game face, nodded, and followed him.

In front of the bathrooms stood a wooden divider wall, designed to mimic the look of a forest outhouse.

When Ella first brought it up, I thought she was out of her mind.

Who would want to feel like they were using a public restroom in the woods? In a restaurant ?

Now, though—I could see the vision. The first strands of faux ivy had been draped over the beams, adding to the illusion of being tucked deep in the forest.

This place might not appeal to humans in the traditional sense, but shifters? Shifters would love it. I was sure of it. It gave just the right sense of exclusivity without the stuffy feel of luxury.

Inside, the bathroom looked nothing like a restroom.

It felt like a clearing in the woods—dim lighting, reclaimed wood walls, soft pine scent in the air.

The stalls were framed with rough-hewn logs, the sinks carved from smooth river stone.

Faux ivy hung from the beams, and soft forest sounds played from hidden speakers—birdsong, rustling leaves, the occasional distant owl.

Ella had somehow made it feel… natural. Private. Safe.

Shifters would eat this up. It wasn’t about showing off. It was about creating a space that made people feel like they belonged.

And damn if she hadn’t nailed it.

There was no denying she was an excellent chef, but I saw her potential as a decorator, as well. Just the right kind of person I needed for my various projects. So far, I hadn't found a single person to decorate the spec houses the way I envisioned them.

"It's perfect," I nodded at Adam.

His rough hand moved over the wide-mouthed faucet. "I don't know who you hired for this, but he or she is a genius."

I couldn’t have agreed more. Now I just needed to find out if Ella would be open to the idea of a side job. She probably had enough work to do with her restaurants, but I wasn't above begging if I had to.

As if thinking about her had conjured her up, she was standing right in the middle of the restaurant when Adam and I left the bathroom.

She looked good. Too good. Blonde hair up in one of those messy buns she always wore when she meant business, cheeks a little flushed, fingers dusted with something—plaster maybe, or flour.

Hell if I knew. She always made a mess look like art.

Thorne stirred immediately. Ugh. She’s here.

Again. In the middle of a half-finished construction zone.

One loose tile, and she’ll twist an ankle.

Or slip. Or trip over her own damn bootlaces.

Clumsy human. You should’ve made her wear a hard hat.

You don't like her, remember? I silently reminded him.

I don’t. But if she falls, I swear I’m eating Adam.

I sighed, already bracing myself. “Ella, what a nice surprise,” I said, stepping toward her. I didn’t touch her—still keeping to her rules, her pace—but God, I wanted to. Just a hand on her waist. Just for a moment.

Adam squinted at her, his rocky brows rising slightly. “This your secret weapon?”

“She’s the designer of the bathrooms,” I confirmed.

He nodded slowly, tilting his head in that way he did when he was sizing someone up. “That so? I don’t usually notice things like sinks and… foliage, but that setup made me rethink a few centuries of aesthetic standards.”

For a moment, Ella looked thrown off, but she caught herself and smiled politely. “Thanks, I think.”

Adam’s stony features didn’t shift, but he leaned in just enough to drop his voice a note. “You do interior design on the side? Might have a few clients that could use that kind of eye.”

Thorne snarled so loudly in my head, I staggered. Oh hell no. That’s your woman, Patrick. Your woman. You let Gargoyle Ken try to poach her with compliments about sinks? What’s next, a date to the quarry?!

He’s being nice , I muttered inwardly. Back off.

Nice? He just mentally measured her for a wedding dress made of stone dust and bad decisions.

Adam glanced at me. “You good?”

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

Ella blinked. “You sure? You look like you just swallowed a drywall screw.”

“I’m great,” I bit out. “Perfect.”

Thorne was still pacing inside me like a bear denied dinner. Touch her arm. Say something smooth. Growl. Do something. Why aren’t we growling?

Because we’re functioning adults .

Barely.

I cleared my throat. “You wanted to check out the kitchen updates?”

"Actually," she bit her lower lip, looking like she had decided something and regretted it now.

"I was thinking… I brought a picnic… if you like…

what I mean is… I put together a menu for the restaurant.

And I brought some sample foods. I thought we might try them.

Outside. Not in here. It's stuffy and dusty and… "

I always loved put-together, functioning Ella, but this version of her, showing some insecurity and rambling?

It nearly threw me off my rocker. She was drop-dead gorgeous when she was flustered.

I took the first moment she took a deep breath to assure her, "That sounds like a great idea.

Why don't we go outside? I know just the place. "

"Okay." She looked relieved and nodded at Adam, "It was nice meeting you."

Thorne growled. If Gargoyle Ken winks at her one more time, I’m digging a trench.

What's with you? I asked, amused. A jealous Thorne was something new. Just like a flustered Ella. It looked like today was my lucky day.