Page 4 of The Bear’s Second Chance Mate (Bear Creek Forever: Thornberg Vineyard #5)

The scent of simmering soup filled the kitchen as June stood at the stove, slowly stirring the pot.

Her eyes drifted to the table, where Oli sat with his sketchbook open in front of him.

He was hunched over the page with single-minded focus, tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth, the tip of his pencil darkening Herbert’s soft fur with careful shading.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t dare break the spell.

His shoulders were relaxed. His breath was even. He wasn’t fidgeting, or humming, or bouncing in his seat.

It was the most settled she’d seen him in weeks. The move to Bear Creek had been hard for him. The very idea of giving up his normal routine, when he’d learned of June’s plans to move to Bear Creek, had caused a slow and, at times, unstoppable spiral.

But it had stopped.

The moment Stanley had said the words lost rabbit , something in Oli had shifted. It was as if he’d felt a deep, unspoken connection to the animal.

Maybe because that was how he often felt himself.

Lost.

June bit down on her lower lip and swallowed the lump in her throat.

She turned back to the stove, giving the soup another gentle stir as she blinked back tears. She was so proud of him. Not just because of his empathy toward the rabbit, but because he’d openly communicated with Stanley, even though he was a stranger.

That was unusual for Oli. Not that he couldn’t speak to people, it was that he rarely felt safe enough to. Especially not with new adults. Especially not men.

But today, something had been different.

She gave a mental snort. Oli wasn’t the only one. Ever since his father had rejected them, leaving June to raise their son alone, she’d been wary. And not just of strangers.

As Oli got older, and it became obvious he wasn’t developing the way other children did, some of June’s oldest friends had quietly started stepping back. Invitations to birthday parties stopped arriving. She was no longer included in weekend coffee groups or community events.

At first, it had stung. Then it had hollowed her out.

Over the years, she’d felt more and more isolated.

And that isolation had left her wounded in a way she couldn’t easily explain.

But today, with Stanley, those wounds had felt a little less raw.

Her mind drifted to the backyard. The rabbit. The sun shone through the grapevines. The way Stanley had crouched beside Oli and spoken to him, not in the clipped, over-explaining tones so many adults used, but like he was someone worth listening to.

And Oli had listened.

June’s hand tightened on the spoon. She wasn’t used to that kind of gentleness.

Certainly not from men. Oli’s father had never understood him.

Hadn’t tried. Meltdowns were met with shouting.

Quiet moments were dismissed as sulking.

Even when she’d explained, again and again, that their son’s world moved at a different pace, he’d rolled his eyes and left the room.

Until one day, he’d left for good.

But Stanley had stayed.

She glanced back at Oli, who was now drawing whiskers on Herbert’s face with small, deliberate strokes.

The sound of a key in the door broke June’s thoughts as the door opened and her Aunt Barb let herself in.

“Smells like soup,” Barb announced, setting her canvas tote on the bench near the door.

June arched a brow. “And it should taste like soup. Carrot and coriander. I also bought a fresh loaf from the bakery this morning.”

“I knew there was a reason I agreed to you and your boy moving in.” Barb didn’t smile, but her eyes twinkled faintly as she stepped into the kitchen.

Her gaze landed on Oli at the table with a fondness that made June’s heart tighten in her chest. Despite her often-gruff demeanor, Aunt Barb accepted Oli for exactly who he was, something for which June would be eternally grateful.

That, and for letting them stay rent-free while June got herself back on her feet. Retraining for a new career had zapped most of her savings, and Barb’s offer of somewhere to stay until she found a new job had been an unexpected and much-needed lifeline.

“What’s this?” Barb asked, leaning over to get a better look at his drawing. “Not bad, kid. You got the ears just right.”

Oli glanced up, pleased by the praise but not enough to pause his careful shading. “They’re long and soft. Rabbits can turn them all the way around.”

Barb gave a soft grunt of approval and sank into the chair opposite him, patting the seat beside her. “You joining me, or still hiding behind your ladle?”

June gave the soup one last stir, turned off the heat, and brought two glasses of apple spritzer to the table. “How was your day?”

“Same as usual,” Barb said as she took a sip. “And you?” She turned her gaze to June. “I’m guessing it involved a rabbit.”

“We helped rescue one,” Oli said without looking up.

Barb’s eyebrows lifted. “That right?”

“We did,” June confirmed.

“We helped Stanley Thornberg catch a stray rabbit,” Oli said. “He owns the local pet store.”

Barb’s glass paused mid-air, then she blinked and shuffled in her seat. “Thornberg?” she echoed slowly, then took a longer sip than necessary. She set the glass down with deliberate care. “Well now. Fancy that.”

June frowned. “You know him?”

“Know, knew his father, Hugo,” Barb said, voice smooth but tinged with something unreadable. “Went to school with him, once upon a time.”

June watched her aunt’s expression closely. “And Stanley?”

Barb’s lips pressed together for a beat. “Nice enough. But don’t get your hopes up.”

“I...I wasn’t,” June said quickly.

“Hopes about what?” Oli finally looked up. “Keeping the rabbit?”

Barb held June’s gaze and then said, “I’m sure it’s just lost and someone will claim it.”

Oli frowned and stared down at his drawing. “I hope he has a nice home.”

“I’m sure he does,” June replied as she got up. “Why don’t you go and wash your hands while I dish up the soup?”

Oli carefully put his coloring things away in his pencil tin and slid off his seat. As he padded out of the kitchen, June fixed her aunt with a questioning look. “Care to explain?”

Barb leaned back in her chair, swirling her spritzer. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up because if he were your mate, honey, he’d have known. And he would’ve acted.”

June blinked. “My what?”

“Mate,” Barb said it as if June had misheard her. “Shifters don’t do the slow-burn thing. They meet their mate, they know. That’s it. Wham bam! No halfway.”

The bottom dropped out of June’s stomach.

Her mouth went dry. “I’m sorry…shifters?”

Barb waved a hand. “Didn’t I mention that? This town’s full of them. The Thornberg boys are all bear shifters.”

“Bear shifters,” June repeated numbly.

“Yes, they can shift from man to bear and back again,” Barb said, as if it were no more unusual than a guy owning a pickup truck.

June stared. “You can’t be serious.”

Barb met her gaze evenly. “I’ve never been more serious. And if Stanley didn’t make it clear when you met him, it means you’re not his. So don’t fall for the quiet charm, June. Don’t let Oli get attached to someone who’s just being kind.”

A cold knot twisted in June’s chest. She thought of Stanley’s warm eyes. His careful words. His gentle way with Oli.

“I…” she began, but stopped. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt too thin.

Barb reached for her glass again, tone brisk. “Just looking out for you.”

“I appreciate it,” June said, though a part of her didn’t. A part of her wanted to cling to the soft, private fantasy that maybe, just maybe, Stanley might like her. Might choose her.

She sucked in a shuddering breath. Was that what she was concerned about? Whether or not Stanley liked her, when her aunt had just revealed that shifters were real?

“It’s okay, they’re all house-trained. At least most of them are,” Barb added casually.

“What?” June looked up, frowning.

“Shifters,” Barb said with a grin. “You looked a little pale, and I thought maybe you were scared they might eat you or something.”

June snorted. “Well, I wasn’t...”

Barb leaned back and laughed. “Honestly, living in a town filled with shifters is probably one of the safest places you can be. They’re a protective bunch, not just of their own families.”

“Good to know,” June said, though she wasn’t sure she did know anything anymore.

“Anyway.” Barb stood and carried her empty glass to the sink. “I’m going to grab a shower before supper. Wash away the day.”

June blinked. “Okay.”

Barb didn’t meet her eyes as she left the kitchen. “Maybe keep this from your boy. For now.”

Her footsteps thumped up the stairs, leaving silence in their wake.

June stood frozen for a moment, her thoughts a mess of tangled threads. Then, as if on autopilot, she gathered the bowls and filled them with soup. Her movements were slow, mechanical, and the smell of carrot and coriander was no longer comforting.

She set the bowls on the table, then leaned on the counter, her hand resting beside her barely touched glass of spritzer. The faint sound of the shower starting upstairs gave her a moment to breathe, but her chest still felt tight.

Shifters.

Mates.

Barb’s words looped through her head like an out-of-tune radio.

She heard the quiet pad of socked feet returning, and a moment later, Oli came back into the kitchen, hands damp from washing. He slid into his seat and picked up his spoon but didn’t start eating. His sketchpad was tucked under one arm.

“Mom?” he mumbled.

She turned. “Yes, love?”

“Do you think Herbert is okay?”

June managed a small smile and sat down beside him. “Stanley said he’d look after him, sweetheart. And we’re going to visit on Tuesday, remember?”

“I remember.” Oli’s shoulders lifted slightly. “Stanley said I could meet Clive. That’s the dragon.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a dragon,” June said, and then the voice in her head immediately added— if shifters are real, are dragons real, too?

“He said Clive eats crickets and has a sun lamp.” Oli turned to her, eyes wide with a question that went beyond reptiles. “He really meant it, didn’t he?”

June reached across the table and touched her son’s hand. “Yes. I think he did.”

Oli nodded slowly, then picked up his spoon and began eating. He didn’t say another word, but the corners of his mouth had softened into something close to calm.

June watched him for a moment, then picked up her own spoon and took a small bite of soup. The taste was wonderful, warm, familiar, but it did little to settle her swirling emotions.

Her thoughts wandered back to Stanley. The way he’d crouched beside her son, making sure he was at eye level. The way he’d looked at June...

There’d been something between them, hadn’t there? A thread of connection that had hummed just beneath the surface. Solid. Unspoken. But real.

She took another spoonful, slower this time.

Then Barb’s words echoed in her head. If he were your mate, he’d have known. And he would’ve acted.

June’s hand tightened around her spoon.

She needed to let go of any romantic notions. Whatever she’d felt, whatever flicker of warmth or hope had taken root, was hers alone.

Stanley had just been friendly.

Protective. That’s what Barb had called the shifters in Bear Creek.

And maybe that was all it had been. Maybe Stanley had sensed Oli’s needs and responded with kindness. As a good man. A decent man. A friend.

And she would take that.

Because for June, friends were rare, and kindness rarer still.

Across the table, Oli sipped his soup quietly, his features peaceful in a way they hadn’t been in weeks.

And that mattered more than anything.

June looked down at her bowl, the steam rising in gentle curls.

Tuesday would come soon enough.

And she would keep her feet on the ground, her heart in check.

Just as she always did.