Bunny Hearts Bear

by V. Vaughn

  Bunny Hearts Bear

  Heartland Shifters Book 2

  V. Vaughn

  C. J. Oliver

  Sugarloaf Press

  Copyright © 2019 by V. Vaughn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Croco Designs

  Editing by Angie Ramey

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  More from V. Vaughn

  About the Authors

  About This Book

  Hillary Raz wants nothing to do with her ex, Alec Thompson when he blows into town after leaving her for football five years earlier. Unfortunately, her bunny has other ideas. The energetic rabbit doesn’t care about a silly thing like a broken heart, she just wants to get her tiny paws on the bear shifter who is her true mate. But even though Alec claims he’s going to stay, Hillary doesn’t trust he’s back for good, or that she’ll ever be more important than his career.

  Alec Thompson’s football career is over. After a devastating injury destroys his superstar status, he returns home to the small shifter town of Heartland to heal and to reconnect with the woman he shouldn’t have left behind. But Hillary’s still healing too, and even though he’ll do whatever it takes to claim his fated mate, it may be too late for Hillary and Alec to find a second chance at love.

  Chapter 1

  ALEC

  My feet pound on the floor of a tiny exam room at the doctor’s office as I continue to pace like an anxious wild animal trapped in a cage. In some ways, I suppose that’s true. I’ve only been waiting for Doctor Mayfield for thirty minutes, but it feels like hours. I’ve been having problems with my knee. It’s not getting better the way it should, and I came in for another MRI.

  I freeze when the handle on the door rattles, and a small burst of adrenaline shoots through my veins. The door opens, and Doctor Mayfield comes in with my file in his hands. His expression is serious as he points to the one of the chairs, and he sits in the other. Without a word, he sets down the folder and pulls up my test results on a computer on the small counter between us.

  His silence is ramping up my anxiety, and I swallow before I ask, “So, what’s the word, Doc?” My leg jiggles up and down as my bear, aware of my agitation, yearns to get out. “Am I playing in next week’s game against the Patriots?” I chuckle dryly. “I’ve always wanted a bromance with Brady.”

  “No.” He points to the scan of my knee on his laptop. I see shades of gray in the image of my leg, and I’ve seen enough x-rays of my body over the years to have a vague idea of what I’m looking at. Not that it matters, because his tone tells me it’s not good. He scrolls to a close-up of my knee, and I recognize the white outlines around the top and lower half of my leg. I see the fresh white line branching off like a limb on a tree, and my stomach sinks when I realize what it means. My injury hasn’t gotten any better. He points to the dark section which shows missing tissue from past tears. “You can only tear your meniscus so many times before the damage is permanent. It’s not healing like I would expect from a shifter.”

  I take a deep breath as I wonder how long I’ll be out for recovery this time. “Okay, so what does that mean? I have to rest it a while longer? A week, two? What?”

  He looks at me with concern in his eyes, and my chest tightens. “Longer Alec. If you were human…” He shakes his head. “I can’t do anything to fix you this time.”

  Shifters are designed to heal themselves, and my bear is more stubborn than most. Everything the doctor has tried to do with surgery, my bear undoes. It’s not a conscious act. It’s just the way we’re made. But we’ve tricked my body before. “You sure? You know I’ll try anything.”

  “I’m sure, Alec.”

  That means it’s up to me to heal this myself, even if it takes longer than usual this time. “So, I’m out for the rest of the season. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  My guts are roiling—football is my life. I can’t imagine not playing for any amount of time, let alone a whole season. In the past five years that I’ve played professional football, I haven’t missed one game, and I’ve started as quarterback for the majority of those. I’m not bragging when I say that my team needs me.

  “I’m sorry, Alec, it’s not just this season. You haven’t made any progress on repairing the ligament this time. I think your body is telling us you’re done. I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to play ever again.”

  What? I stare at him for a moment and then blink, pretty sure I’m hearing things. He can’t possibly have said what I think he said. I shake my head to the right and then the left, as if to clear water from my ears. “I don’t think I heard you right, Doc.”

  “If you continue to push your knee the way you have, you risk losing the ability to walk, let alone to play touch football with your kids one day.” He gives me a look of pity, which makes my gut churn even more. I don’t get looks of pity, ever, and I don’t want to start now. “I wish I had better news for you, Alec, I really do.” He breaks into a wry smile. “I’ll miss watching you play. You’re one hell of a quarterback.”

  I stare in disbelief. My mouth’s gone dry, and the stubble on my chin scratches at my hand as I rub it and let his words sink in. “No. I don’t accept that.” I search my mind for a solution he may not have thought of. “What about a knee transplant from another shifter? Some guy who’s never injured it.” I chuckle. “It’d give me nine more lives.”

  He scowls at me, and I throw out whatever else comes to my mind. “Physio. Acupuncture. Witchcraft? There’s got to be something, Doc.” I know I’m grasping at straws as my mind tries to comprehend my new reality.

  He shakes his head as that damn pity I saw earlier returns.

  My bear rumbles in my chest, and I jump to my feet. Every muscle I have is flexed with the urge to shift. I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly to tamp my bear down and force my body to relax. “There has to be something you’ve haven’t thought of.”

  The doctor sighs and rests his hands in his lap as he gazes up at me. I fleetingly think that this part of his job must suck. “You know if there was that I’d be willing to do it. And hey, if I think of something, you’ll be the guy I’ll try it on.”

  He’s right. I’ve suffered things that would put a human out to pasture, and Doctor Mayfield and I have done groundbreaking procedures to trick my bear into healing me. If there was a medical journal for shifters, we’d both have a volume dedicated to sports injuries.
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  He says, “For now, though, I’m sorry there’s nothing else that can be done. You’re going to have to accept that your football career is over. I wish it wasn’t true, I really do.”

  I nod and turn to walk to the other side of the room. My bear is making it impossible to sit still. As I move, a sharp twinge pricks me in my knee as if to remind me why I’m here to begin with. And to hammer home the truth.

  I rake my fingers through my hair and let out a huff of frustration. I can’t believe my body has betrayed me. I’m too young to be permanently injured. I’ve only played for five years. A lot of the guys go many more seasons than that before retiring. And I’m a shifter. We heal. I refuse to accept this. I won’t.

  Doctor Mayfield says, “I know this is a lot to take in.” I turn and look at him as he continues. “I’m sure you’ll have a ton of questions later. Go home and rest for a few months. Call me whenever you’re ready.”

  A seed of hope sprouts inside me. Doctor Mayfield is the best in his field, and in a couple months he might have some new procedure for me. “You’ll find a cure, Doc. I’m sure of it.”

  He opens his mouth but stops himself and sighs. “Don’t get your hopes up, Alec. After some down time, you’ll be able to lead a normal active life, but I don’t see how you’ll ever play professional football again.”

  The doctor stands and offers his hand to me. “I wish you well, Alec.” In a trance, I shake it. “Take some time to gather yourself. I’ll let the nurse know you’re still in here.”

  When he leaves, I stare at the closed door. What the hell am I going to do now? I can’t play if the doctor doesn’t clear me. And that means I can’t even go back to the coach and fake it, which I did one time when I dislocated my shoulder. It was just a simple matter of popping the bone back into its joint and putting a bit of ice on it. I was back to full form in a day. The blessings of a shifter’s natural healing ability have been kind to me, but not so much this time. It doesn’t seem right. Maybe—

  Listen to the doctor!

  I shake my head. My bear is trying to assert himself, like he always does. He’s a bit of a bully. A lot of a bully, actually, but he has my—our—best interests at heart. And he loves football as much as I do. I know I should pay attention.

  Do not be a stupid man! Listen to the doctor!

  “Shut up. This is my life I’m dealing with here.” That calms him down for a bit, but I know it won’t last because it’s his life too.

  I stare out the window at the parking lot below, noting how many trucks there seem to be. It seems odd to me considering I’m in an area full of concrete where it never snows. My motorcycle is parked out there too, and I recall it was one of the first things I bought when I got drafted.

  Maybe I should get a second opinion. Although, Dr. Mayfield is the one who teaches everyone else. I trust him completely, but I can’t seem to accept what he’s telling me. I do know he’s right about the damage I’ve done to my knee and about not being able to get a knee replacement. But surely that can’t be it for me. I didn’t get to be a pro football player by accepting what people told me. There has to be another way.

  I leave the exam room since there’s no point in wallowing in self-pity there. Once I’m outside the medical center, I take in a deep breath of air and let it out. My guts are still churning. I walk across the parking lot to where I left my motorcycle. The large metal vehicle is solid, cold and steady under me once I climb on. The strap of my helmet clicks when I fasten it, and I remain still as I stare off in the distance, seeing nothing.

  I’m at a loss for what to do. I should be rushing over to practice, or physio, or the weight room… My life has revolved around football for so long I don’t know what to do without it.

  The doctor said to go home and rest. Home. That word brings up memories of a place that is not here in Florida. A place where a hot day means you wish you had air conditioning but know the mountain air will cool you down in the evening.

  Maybe I should go back to the town of Heartland where I grew up. I haven’t been back since I was drafted, and it would be good to see my brother Bruce again. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years, as he hates to travel, but I did get him to come to my first game in Denver. And there are other people in Heartland I’d like to see again. I want to see her again…

  Blue eyes and blond hair flash in my memory along with the melodious laugh of Hillary, a girl I haven’t seen in six years. My bear lets out a low growl as if to chide me. Six long years.

  That could be exactly what I need right now. Peace and quiet. Time to think. Time to reflect. Time to heal. I flash to the image of my blue-eyed blonde in a short skirt, walking away, and recall that for such a tiny thing her legs were incredibly long. I smile with the memory. The shifter town of Heartland could be just the thing I need.

  A couple of months soaking up the peace and tranquility of the town. A couple of months babying my knee and getting back into perfect shape. And maybe, if I’m lucky, a couple of months of Hillary. Then I can go back to the game that I love.

  It’s not that I don’t believe the doctor. It’s just that he’s underestimating Alec Thompson. I don’t let anything stand in the way of what I want, what I’ve always dreamed of doing in my life. And I’m not about to start now.

  Chapter 2

  ALEC

  The engine of my motorcycle revs as I speed up. I’m finally out of the traffic in the suburbs of Denver and heading north on I-25. Nothing but wide-open road is ahead of me. I’d toyed with the idea of riding my motorcycle all the way from Tampa home, but that would have been days on the road. So instead, I hired a company to transport my bike to Denver, where they met me at the airport. I could have rented a car to get to Heartland, but my bear wouldn’t have enjoyed the confinement of a vehicle knowing what it would be like on a bike instead.

  The drive from Denver is about five hours, and I expected to spend that time wrapping my head around a plan to return to football. Funny thing is though, I’ve already spent a lot of time remembering Hillary instead.

  The further north I get, the happier I feel. The moment the Teton mountains come into view my body relaxes. It’s as if my bear is breathing a sigh of relief, and I get it. While the physical activity of football was enough to keep him content most days, nothing can compare to running through the thick, fir-scented woods near Heartland in animal form.

  I’m anxious as well, though. I wonder if Heartland is going to live up to the memories. It’s been too long since I’ve been home, and I’m not sure why I stayed away. It was easy to get swept up in my famous life, but I should have found a way to return home at least once over the past few years.

  The roar of my bike echoes off the face of the massive rock that was blasted for the road to come through, and as I crest the mountain pass, I inhale deeply to let the cool air fill my lungs. It’s cleaner and clearer up here than anywhere else I’ve ever been. Thinner too, but that only makes the oxygen seem purer. The scents of the forest fill my nose. Sparkling-clear water, nutrient-rich earth, and sweet fauna make me smile. Everything around me is a vibrant green, a verdant color a person can’t possibly understand until they see it. So luscious you feel it.

  The forest, the mountains—they’re home.

  I ride down the mountain and turn left onto a road that most don’t notice. It’s constructed that way, so unwanted visitors don’t happen upon a quaint little town nestled in the woods. A cozy, quirky little place inhabited by shifters.

  After about fifteen minutes on the narrow road that’s hugged by trees on either side, it starts to open up, and when I come over the last hill, I can see the small town spread out before me. My heart swells, and it hits me how much I’ve missed my home town. How much I’ve missed my people.

  The tiniest wisp of peace winds its way through my chest. Here, I can be myself—all of myself—and my bear can finally drop his guard. If I growl here, nobody will bat an eye and I don’t have to cough to cover it up. Even my shoulders seem to lose
a tenseness I hadn’t realized was there.

  When I get into town, I’m happy to find it’s exactly how I remember it. Main Street hasn’t changed one bit. I take it all in—the small movie theater, the hardware store, the bookstore and café, the library and town hall, and then the lush central park with the large stone fountain. As I drive by, I see all manner of shifters frolicking around in their animal forms. Dogs, wolves, big cats, horses, big birds of prey… they’re all there together. A community of animal shifters.

  A community I used to belong to.

  Several faces turn my way as I pass by. There are smiles and waves, offered without hesitation as if I’ve been around all this time. I wonder if they actually recognize me or if it’s just an old habit of waving to anyone they see. Either way, I wave back. After so many years in a city, the gesture feels stiff. Rusty. In the end though, old habits die hard.

  Even though it’s good to be here again, in my heart I feel defeated. I expected a long and prosperous career in the NFL. Now I’m back with nothing but a broken dream. Sure, I made a lot of money, and I was smart enough to invest instead of spending crazy amounts like some of the other guys. But money was never why I played the game. I played because there was never anything else I was good at.