Bearly Together

by Chant, Zoe

  Chapter 25

  The alarm woke them both entirely too early.

  Shelley fumbled at the bedside table with her face still buried in her pillow until Dean finally reached over her and turned off the alarm.

  “Didn’t your shop burn down yesterday?” she groaned. “Doesn’t that at least mean you don’t have to get up today?” Then she rolled over, mortified. “Is it too soon to joke?”

  “School day,” Dean said grimly. “You can sleep. I have to get the slowest kid in the world ready to go.”

  “I’ll get up, too,” Shelley said, sitting. She yawned. “We probably should have spent more of last night sleeping.”

  Dean looked over at her and smiled. His hair was sleep-rumpled and his eyes were tired. “It was worth it,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.

  “It was worth it,” she echoed, when he finally released her.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he said with a parting kiss on the forehead.

  She lay back on the bed as he left. “I’ll be up,” she mumbled unconvincingly.

  She half-expected to fall back to sleep, but her brain woke up then, and dragged her into a spiral of all the things she’d done wrong. She’d quit her job, she reminded herself, burned her safety net, moved to a town where no one liked her... except Dean and maybe Aaron. But Aaron deserved a better mom, Dean deserved a better mate...

  I love you, he’d said, the night before, but did he really? Was it just his bear? Was it just the sex? Who could love her?

  Too late, Shelley recognized the trap her own mind was leading her into, and a wave of disappointment washed over her. She’d done so well, this entire week, kept herself so together. Having a mate had... fixed her, she’d thought. And wasn’t sex supposed to cause lots of happy endorphins in the brain? Tears pricked her eyes. Dean didn’t know what he’d really gotten, and she should just leave now and spare him the heartache of finding out how broken she really was.

  It was getting hard to breathe and Shelley could feel her heart pounding irregularly in her chest. She needed one of the pills from her purse, but her purse was downstairs, with her clothes, and it seemed like an impossible distance. Her lioness was looming in her head like a terrifying shadow, angry at her weakness.

  Let me help you, she growled.

  But Shelley didn’t trust her animal’s help. Given the choice between flight or fight, she would always run.

  “Shelley? Shelley?!”

  Dean found her later, half-dressed, sweaty and shaking, sitting on the floor next to the couch with her arms around Bingo, who was utterly delighted to be the center of her attention but less wiggly than usual.

  “Are you okay?”

  Shelley raised tearful eyes to him. “Not really,” she admitted. He was barefoot, hair damp and sticking up in all directions. He was so beautiful.

  Guilt swamped her. She was supposed to be the one being strong. Dean had just lost his business, his volunteer position. She should be comforting him.

  Dean settled to a seat beside her and Bingo’s little brain nearly exploded with the joy having two of his people so close, abandoning Shelley as she sat up and wiped her tears away. He head-butted Dean, tried to lick him, and when Dean went to gather Shelley into his arms, licked her, and tried to insert himself between them.

  Dean shoved him away gently, pulling Shelley into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. “Tell me,” he ordered.

  “Anxiety,” Shelley said into his chest. “Panic attacks. Things shifters aren’t supposed to have.” She gave a little hiccup of a laugh. “It was fun finding a therapist qualified to diagnose my special case, let me tell you.”

  “Pretty bad?” Dean prodded. He was making gentle circles with his hands on her back and Shelley could feel the last of her shakes ebb away into the dull, distant aftermath.

  She felt numb, like she was wrapped in bubble wrap. Her lioness was a faraway growl and she could feel her body like it wasn’t her own. Bingo had his head wedged into the half of her lap he could reach, panting happily.

  “Sometimes,” she admitted. “I usually get through things and have an attack later, when I’m safe. I have... pills, for when it’s really bad. It’s kind of a cocktail of prescriptions, because of course I burn things off faster than a human would.”

  “Of course,” Dean agreed.

  “I hate them. And... I... thought I was better. I hadn’t had an attack since we met, and the anxiety... has been understandable and pretty low key. I thought... maybe I wouldn’t do this again. I’d hoped.” She’d hoped that finding her mate would magically fix her, she thought with chagrin. Like true love’s kiss from a fairy tale.

  “You’ve had a lot of changes, the last week or so,” Dean observed.

  Shelley was starting to think logically again. “Not as many as you have... but yeah.” She gave a humorless chuckle. “I quit my job.”

  Dean’s arms around her tightened in surprise and he was quiet. Doubtful? Angry? Was it too much pressure?

  “I could probably get my job back, if things don’t work out with us,” she promised, glad for the buffer of the drugs. She knew it hurt to think that it might not work out, but she didn’t care that it hurt right now. “You don’t have to feel guilty or... obligated or anything. I didn’t mean it as a... trap. I just thought that if this was something that was going to happen, it was going to happen all-in. I didn’t want this to be just a fling, just a vacation.”

  “Even with... everything I come with?” Dean’s voice was gentle, and Shelley couldn’t get a read on his emotions through the muffling effects of the drug.

  “Earplugs are cheap and I clearly have my own... baggage. Not that Aaron is baggage,” Shelley added swiftly. “He’s your son, and I will do my best to love him because you do. I will even try not to swear too much around him or let him watch scary movies. I just... wish I wasn’t such a mess. You deserve better. You’ve got everything figured out, and I drop into your life like a new complication you don’t need.”

  “You are every complication that I need,” Dean murmured near her ear. “And if you think I’ve got everything figured out, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “You’re a hero,” Shelley reminded him.

  “I’m an idiot,” Dean corrected her. “My businesses are all failing, I’m mortgaged to my ears, I’ve barely been keeping my own life going. I’ve spent the last five years trying to be everything for everyone else because I didn’t know how to say no to anything... because I had a hole in my life that I didn’t know how to fill.”

  Shelley looked at him, feeling stupid. “You have Aaron.”

  “And I love Aaron,” Dean agreed. “But there are only so many conversations I can have about Legos and farts before I go insane.” He paused, and Shelley knew she was supposed to be figuring out what he was trying to say. “You, Shelley. I need you. I need your advice, and I need your good sense, and I need your humor and your kisses and that skeptical look you give me when you think I’m making fun of you.”

  His hand was on her cheek, this thumb making gentle circles. “We don’t have to be perfect people to be perfect for each other.”

  “We’re going to make our own life,” he said firmly. “Our own future. Together. You and me and your brain, and if you sometimes need to take a pill and sit in a quiet room, I will never love you less for it.”

  Shelley wasn’t aware that she was crying until he wiped the tears away for her, kissing her cheeks tenderly. “I love you, Dean,” she said hesitantly. Even through the haze of her pills, she was absolutely sure of it. “I love you, and I will do everything I can to show you that every day.”

  “Can you help me with insurance forms?” Dean asked, with a crooked smile. “I feel like the world’s biggest moron trying to figure out what they are asking for. I’m terrified I’m going to implicate myself for fraud or something. The adjuster seemed really interested in the fact that the fire department wasn’t accredited anymore.”

  “Oh, yes,” Shelley agreed ins
tantly. “I’m great with contracts. And you should hear me on the phone; I will make them tremble in fear. I will squeeze them for every penny they owe you and they will hand it over gratefully.”

  “Man, I am glad you are on my side,” Dean said, dragging a dramatic hand across his brow and Shelley giggled.

  She sat up suddenly. “Wait, doesn’t Aaron need to get to school? You should be doing that, not dealing with my stupid brain chemistry, shouldn’t you?”

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s late,” Dean said. “You needed me.”

  Just like that. As if it was simple. She needed him, and he was there for her.

  Shelley was sure it would feel amazing to know that if she weren’t being cradled in the comforting dullness that her pill had created. She managed a grateful smile. “I’m okay now. I got this.”

  “We got this,” Dean reminded her, and Shelley felt a well of love and trust breach the wall around her as he kissed her. “I love you...”

  Bingo sighed longingly when he was ejected from their laps and they stood up.

  “What can I do to help?” Shelley asked.

  “Can you make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

  “Three ingredients, I think I can manage.”

  She finished buttoning up her shirt, and went to the kitchen while Dean went upstairs to wake Aaron up.

  Chapter 26

  After they got a very sleepy and grumbling Aaron off to school with his lunch, Shelley went with Dean to work on the shop inventory and forms.

  “You aren’t required to answer some of these questions,” she told him gravely, flipping through the forms. “They like to throw in all this optional stuff to trip you up. I swear, insurance is one big intimidation game, it’s like they’re trying to scare you into just not filing.”

  They talked about the fire department accreditation, too.

  “We don’t have enough money to keep up with the testing,” Dean explained. “We keep things in good shape, we just can’t prove it.”

  Shelley took notes on her phone with a stylus. “I wonder if you’d be eligible for grants,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll do some research.”

  She waded into the ashy shop without hesitating, neatly writing down items that Dean pulled from the burnt wreckage and identified, looking them up on her smartphone and jotting down a current market price.

  By the afternoon, they were both sweaty and sooty and Dean thought she had never looked so beautiful.

  Her hair was pulled back up into a handkerchief, blonde strands of it sticking to her damp face. If she had started the day with any makeup, it was long gone, and she had a thick black smudge across one cheek that Dean didn’t want to tell her about.

  Various neighbors wandered in and out while they were working, commenting on the general awful state of things, sympathizing with the workload and the loss, speculating on the damage that might have been done, and without fail, offering to help with the cleanup.

  Shelley shook her head in warning. “Don’t clean up until the claim is settled,” she warned. “It’s all evidence.”

  She got many curious, speculative looks. Even her black cheek smudge and dirty clothes couldn’t make her look less out of place.

  He caught her frowning down at her shoes when everyone was gone, sitting on the sidewalk. They were smudged and scuffed.

  “They’re probably never going to be clean again,” he said apologetically, handing her a lukewarm diet cola from the hardware store vending machine. The structure didn’t have any power yet.

  “They’re just shoes,” Shelley said firmly, as if she was trying to convince herself. She took a drink of her soda, grimaced at the temperature, and followed it with a thirsty second sip.

  “Thank you,” Dean said sincerely, popping the top to a warm root beer. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  Shelley bumped shoulders with him. “I’m good at filling out paperwork,” she said with a crooked smile.

  “We make a good team,” Dean told her.

  The black smudge on her cheek hitched up with her smile.

  They called it a day shortly before Aaron was due to get off of school and Shelley took the first shower.

  Dean was shaking ash off of his pants on the porch when Deirdre pulled up with an out of character shriek of her car brakes.

  She stomped up from the curb and Dean caught her wiping angry tears off her face.

  “Dammit Dean! They said you charged in without turnout gear! That you could have been killed! What were you thinking, Dean? Did you think about what that could do to Aaron if you’d died?”

  “I wasn’t killed.” Dean kept his voice calm and reasonable. “I’m fine.”

  Deirdre gave a little whimper, and Dean automatically opened his arms. She stepped close to hug him, and he could feel her sigh against him. “Oh, Dean, I was so worried.”

  “I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m so sorry about the shop,” she mumbled into his shirt. “It’s not fair.”

  He was just thinking that her embrace felt so much different than Shelley’s did, and that the strangest part was that Deirdre’s was the one that didn’t feel normal anymore, when Deirdre froze and then backed away from him.

  “Shelley,” she said carefully.

  Barefoot, Shelley’s approach had been cat-silent, and she was standing just inside the screen door. The black smudge was gone from her cheek and her hair was still damp around her face.

  “Deirdre,” Shelley replied, just as carefully.

  Deirdre scuffed one foot along the porch. “I... ah... actually came a little early because I wanted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee at the bakery before I took Aaron home.” Her voice suggested that she didn’t expect Shelley to accept.

  Dean could feel the prickly anxiety from Shelley, but he wasn’t surprised when she nodded solemnly. “I’d like that,” she said evenly. “Let me get some shoes.”

  “Sorry,” Deirdre said sheepishly, when Shelley disappeared. “I hope I didn’t make things... awkward by giving you a hug.”

  Dean had to laugh. “Awkward is kind of a running theme. We’ll manage.”

  Deirdre chewed on her lower lip. “Are you... happy?”

  The approach of Shelley’s clicking heels prevented Dean from answering. The screen door swung closed after her with a bang, and she only hesitated a moment before stepping close to give him a swift goodbye kiss. Dean caught her face in his hands to make it slightly more than a utilitarian peck and there was a soft, real smile at her lips when she stepped back.

  Deirdre looked delighted. “Oh, I’m so glad we’re doing this,” she chattered. “I’ve got so many questions, I’ll try not to pry, and I’ve got so many stories to tell you about Dean! Do you mind if we walk? It’s just a couple of blocks and isn’t it a gorgeous day? I just love autumn, with all the colors and it’s not so hot anymore, and of course, it’s nearly Halloween, which is my favorite holiday. What’s your favorite holiday, Shelley?”

  Dean knew Deirdre was covering her nervousness with her babble, and it struck him that she was very different from Shelley, who tended to retreat to distant silence and formality when faced with the same stresses. Then he realized that he was watching his ex-wife walk away with his new girlfriend with the sole purpose of getting to know each other better and he had a moment of sudden dread.

  This was a terrible idea.

  Chapter 27

  “Have you had the pastries here yet? They’re really amazing. Better than Clausen’s, even, if you’ve ever been there. Of course, Clausen’s doesn’t have coffee, or a place to sit. I’m sorry, I’m just non-stop, you’ve barely got a word in edgewise, do you know what you want to order?”

  Shelley had more sympathy for Deirdre than the other woman probably imagined. She was clearly very nervous, and just as determined to be friendly.

  There was no line, and Shaun was behind the counter wiping off the espresso machine.

  “A cinnamon roll and a...”
>
  “Latte,” Shaun finished for her. “Are you two together?”

  “Yes,” Shelley said, just as Deirdre said, “No.”

  “I’ll get this,” Shelley insisted.

  Deirdre blushed. “You have to let me get the next one,” she said. “An Americano and one of the cherry-filled danishes. Messy,” she said to Shelley, “but worth it.”

  “For here?” Shaun asked with a grin.

  “Yes,” Shelley and Deirdre said together. Deirdre and Shaun were eyeing each other curiously, clearly trying to decide who the other person was and Shelley finally gave a sigh as Shaun passed plates over with their pastries. “Shaun is my brother,” she explained. “He moved to Green Valley a little over a year ago and married Andrea. Shaun, this is Deirdre. Dean’s ex-wife.”

  “Oh,” they each said knowingly. “Oh.”

  “You must be Trevor’s dad! Aaron talks about him all the time. It’s nice to meet you,” Deirdre said brightly, and they exchanged a handshake over the counter.

  “You, too,” Shaun answered, bemused. “I’ll bring your coffees out.”

  They were the only customers, and they took the seat furthest from the counter, looking out the window.

  “This used to be a general store when I was a kid,” Deirdre offered, using a fork to take a bite of her danish. “And see that big brick building on the corner? That used to be a bank. Marta lives there now, and the inside is amazing. It still has the teller cages and her closet is in the old vault. Giant, tall ceilings, and marble everywhere.”

  “Green Valley is a really sweet little town,” Shelley offered. Shaun’s baking was as good as she remembered; the cinnamon roll was light and fluffy, with sticky, delicious filling. He had sprinkled nuts on top without asking, remembering that she liked them.

  “Emphasis on little,” Deirdre said with a wince. “I... don’t know what Dean told you. Or what anyone else has told you...”

  Shelley was too busy feeling sorry for Deirdre to be nervous herself. “He told me,” she said sympathetically. She leaned forward. “He’s...”