by Melissa Tagg
Just as she lifted her hand to knock again, the door creaked open. But it wasn’t Bear standing on the other side. It was the little boy—Jamie, right? His brown-almost-black hair, same shade as Bear’s, poked out every which way, and it appeared he’d slept in the wrinkled red T-shirt and jeans he’d clearly grown out of months ago, considering his ankles and bare feet poking out underneath.
His shoulders drooped as he let out a breath. “You’re not my mom.”
Enough disappointment churned in those four sighed words to wrench rather than tug at her heart. And all the questions that’d kept her awake last night flooded in all over again. Why was Bear here? Why were the kids with him? Where were their parents?
And how could he have gone five years without mentioning them? Erin would’ve been born during the years Bear lived in Maple Valley. He’d never said a word.
The first raindrops plopped on the wood landing around her feet. “Your name’s Jamie, right? My name’s Raegan. Can I come in?”
“You’re a stranger.”
The sky growled above. “I’m your Uncle Bear’s friend. Can you get him?”
“He’s still sleeping.” The voice came from behind Jamie. Erin peeked around her brother, her thick, dark hair mashed to her head in waves. She wore a long cotton shirt. No pants. “He snores.”
“Erin,” Jamie hissed, “go back to the bedroom. She’s a stranger.”
Raegan couldn’t help a charmed grin. These kids were so cute they could almost give her own niece a run for her money. Not that she’d ever dare say so to Logan.
A raindrop tapped her cheek. “Jamie, you’re a good older brother for looking out for your sister, but I promise I’m a friend. I even brought breakfast.”
Erin clapped her hands behind him. “Yay, I’m hungry.”
Raegan pulled out her phone. “Look, I’ll even prove that I know Bear.” She scrolled through her photos. “Here’s a picture of me and him.”
It was the only one she hadn’t deleted in the weeks following his move. Call her sentimental.
Or just plain pathetic.
Whatever. So she’d had a crush on Bear back then. What was so wrong with that? The man had a heart-melting smile and strong arms and he played guitar and sang. What normal, red-blooded, unattached girl wouldn’t form a few romantic notions about a guy like that?
Plus, he’d somehow managed to live in Maple Valley for years without spilling a slew of personal details. In other words, he was the closest thing this gossipy little town had to a man with a mysterious past. It only added to his appeal.
But she’d had more than enough time to get over him. The photo on her phone? Just a happy memory. Nothing more.
Jamie looked from her phone to her face and back to the phone. Finally, with an overly mature, wary resolve, he backed up to let her in. “You really brought breakfast?”
“Yep. Donuts, muffins, the works.” Plus a breakfast burrito from The Red Door for Bear and a half-gallon of milk instead of coffee. Because the man had warped taste buds and didn’t like the stuff.
She dropped the paper bag on the counter and moved into the living room. Sure enough, Bear’s sprawling form crowded the couch. The thing was way too small for him. How sore would he be when he woke up?
A tiny hand tucked into hers. “He doesn’t wear a shirt when he sleeps.”
Erin’s whispered words drew another grin. And a blush. And the instant need to look away from Bear’s bare chest. “I see that.” Her attention strayed to his face instead—all sharp angles, from his broad forehead to his high cheekbones and his sloping nose, all except the curve of his overly long lashes. She squeezed Erin’s hand. “Come on, let’s go back to the kitchen and let him keep sleeping.”
Although how Bear could sleep with the ruckus drifting into the apartment from the coffee shop below or the roar of thunder outside, she hadn’t a clue. Apparently he could sleep through anything.
But what about these kids? Coffee Coffee opened at five-thirty every morning and was often bustling until ten at night. The apartment was about as sound-proof as a plastic tent. Bear couldn’t keep them here long-term.
Long-term? She didn’t even know if he was staying another day.
In the kitchen, she pulled a pile of napkins from the sack and then started unloading her breakfast loot on the table. “Hope you guys like chocolate-covered donuts. Or banana nut muffins. Because those are your choices.”
“We love them.” Erin climbed into one of the vinyl-cushioned chairs at the table. Raegan gave the back of the chair a scoot to move her closer to the table.
She turned to the cupboard, opening the one in which she knew she’d find a few glasses Bear had never boxed up.
Even if she hadn’t spent half her evenings over the past few months hiding away in this apartment, she’d have known her way around Bear’s kitchen with her eyes closed. Years ago, she’d helped him settle into the space. She’d coaxed him into painting the walls a buoyant red, picked out matching towels and curtains and even coerced him into purchasing a red-faced coffeepot.
“But I’ll never use it,” he’d argued in the middle of the department store aisle.
“Do you ever plan to have friends over? Don’t you at least want to be able to offer coffee to your guests?”
“I live above a coffee shop, Rae. I think my guests will be fine.”
“It’s the principle of the thing. It’s a mark of adulthood. You need a coffeepot.”
He’d given her one of his usual longsuffering nods, probably only humoring her to shut her up and get out of the store. But nevertheless, there sat the coffeepot on his counter.
It was a little embarrassing now, remembering how pleased she’d been when he’d bought this place, thinking it was a sign that he might decide to settle in Maple Valley, after all.
Jamie slid into the chair beside Erin and reached immediately for a donut. He tore into it with relish.
“You eat like your uncle, you know that?” After pouring two small glasses of milk, she lowered into the remaining chair.
Jamie spared her a brief glance before taking another oversized bite. “How do you know Uncle Bear?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Jamie.”
Raegan chuckled at Erin’s scolding. Jamie only scowled.
“To answer your question, I met Bear when he first moved to Iowa.”
“Is that where we are? Iowa?” Jamie took a drink of milk and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth.
“Bear didn’t tell you?”
The milk in Jamie’s glass sloshed as he set it down. “He just came and got us one night. Mom told us to go with him. We had to hurry.”
Curiosity faded into something closer to alarm. They’d hurried?
“He carried me.” Erin said it with delight, chocolate smeared over her lips.
“Where were you when Bear came for you?”
Jamie shrugged and reached for a second donut. “At home.”
“And where’s home—”
A displeased grunt interrupted her before she could finish the question. “I might’ve known.”
Raegan rotated in her seat. Bear filled the space of the doorframe separating the living room and kitchen, irritation plainly spelled out in his stormy black irises, in the stern set to his jaw. Why did he look so grouchy? Hadn’t he always boasted about being a morning person?
At least he wore a shirt now. One that did very little to hide the stretch of muscle behind his crossed arms. The tattoo wrapping around one bicep was visible under his sleeve. “Raegan.” He hissed her name.
“I brought breakfast.”
“Can I talk to you for a second?” He nudged his head backward.
She turned to the kids. “Save me a donut, guys, okay? One with sprinkles.” She pushed away from the table, mouthing a What’s wrong? to Bear as she ducked past him.
He faced her in the living room. “What’s with the inquisition in there?” He poked one thumb over his shoulder. “Cross-examining
the kids? Really?”
“I brought breakfast—”
“This is my apartment, and those kids are in my care. Why we’re here is not any of your business.” He loomed over her. “I asked you to leave last night, Rae, and I didn’t say anything about coming back.”
She couldn’t stop her flinch. Never, in her years of knowing this man, had she seen him like this. Last night she’d witnessed shades of shock and anxiety and exhaustion in Bear. But not this . . . this anger. Pure, frightening frustration. Directed entirely at her.
“Bear—”
The sound of breaking glass cut in and then a squeal from Erin. A crash.
Bear whirled, flying into the kitchen before she could blink. And only a second later, his yell reached her ears. “Call 9-1-1, Rae.”
At the sight of Jamie’s slumped form, his swollen eyes and lips and throat, Bear’s every movement jolted into autopilot. He raced across the kitchen, Jamie’s wheezing beckoning his panic.
But the panic didn’t come. Only a rush of uncanny calm. He reached Jamie’s chair, his nephew’s name slipping from his lips and his hands gripping Jamie’s arms. “Jamie, keep breathing.” One palm slid to Jamie’s wrist. Erratic pulse.
Somewhere in his periphery, he was aware of Erin’s tears, the spilled milk pooling on the floor around his feet. Raegan’s voice on the phone.
“Let’s get you out of this chair. I need you to lay on the floor.”
If his voice registered with Jamie, the boy didn’t show it. His wheezing only worsened, and it didn’t take more than a glance to tell his swelling throat was constricting his airway. He dragged Jamie from his chair, lowering him to the floor. “Erin, has this happened before?”
He spared a glance at Erin’s frightened features, took in her nod.
“Ambulance is on the way, Bear.” Raegan knelt over him. “What can I do?”
“I think it’s an allergic reaction.” A severe one. He slid one finger into Jamie’s mouth, felt his tongue. No swelling there, at least. “There’s a duffel in the bedroom. See if there’s an EpiPen. If this has happened before—”
Raegan had already raced from the room.
Jamie’s eyes were so swollen now, he likely couldn’t see a thing. Anaphylactic shock—Bear knew the signs. How could you not tell me, Rosa?
“It’s going to be okay, Jamie. I’m right here.” He crouched on his knees, Erin’s whimpers still coming from behind. He squeezed Jamie’s clammy hand, then went to work on the boy’s shirt, using both hands to stretch and loosen the collar.
“I think I found it.”
Raegan had barely reappeared in the room before he was on his feet again and reaching for the object in her hands. “Good.”
“Do you know what to do with it?”
He didn’t bother answering, only lowered to his knees again, fist closed around the pen. With his free hand, he pulled the safety cap from the pen. He placed the pen against the boy’s thigh and in a quick motion, pushed the auto-injector into his leg through his jeans. He could feel the spring-loaded needle releasing, and he held the pen in place, counting through gritted teeth. “One. Two. Three.”
He released the pen. Stilled. Waited.
“Did it work?” Raegan’s soft voice asked from above. She held Erin now, one palm rubbing the little girl’s back.
He reached for Jamie’s wrist, felt his pulse once more. And prayed.
Bear stood beside the hospital bed, staring at the boy he barely knew. The swelling around Jamie’s eyes and mouth had already begun to subside, thanks not only to the epinephrine, but also the oral antihistamine the doctor had administered. His skin was still blotchy, but that too would go away soon.
Jamie opened one puffy eye. “I don’t want to stay here.”
Bear brushed his fingers over the unruly waves of hair tangled over Jamie’s forehead, but Jamie flinched and pulled away. Bear let his hand drop. “It’s only for a few hours. The doctor just wants to make sure none of the symptoms return or get worse.”
“Can I at least watch TV?”
“Of course.”
He handed Jamie the remote and then simply watched while the boy flipped through channels, finally landing on a cartoon. Bear couldn’t take his eyes away from Jamie, couldn’t settle his own nerves, as if he were just waiting for another attack, ready to spring into action all over again.
His stomach growled, and it hit him that he’d not had a thing to eat this morning. But the pungent smell of disinfectant, the steady beeping from a room next door, the leftover fear—it all stole his appetite.
Why, now, couldn’t he summon the calm he’d felt a couple hours ago when his training had kicked in on that kitchen floor? Even in the ambulance, a composed familiarity had sustained him. He’d always been good in the heat of a crisis.
It was when the dust settled and the waiting began that he buckled under pressure.
Bear smothered a sigh now. Any confidence he might’ve felt in that ambulance had wilted the moment the ER doctor asked him about Jamie’s allergies, his past reactions, his medical history and Bear was forced to admit his cluelessness. The doubt on the doctor’s face had only expanded when Bear had tried to explain in stilted starts and stops why he knew so little about the child in his care.
And then there were the forms, the health insurance paperwork to deal with.
I can’t do this, God. It wasn’t a prayer so much as a plea for intervention. It was one thing to make a mess of his own life. It was another to take responsibility for two others.
Jamie’s eyes were fluttering closed now. The poor kid was probably more wrung out than ever with what he’d just been through.
Bear stayed by Jamie’s bed until he was sure the boy was asleep, and only then did he trudge from the hospital room. He nodded at a woman as he passed the nurses’ station and followed the signs to the waiting room. He lifted his hand to the back of his neck, kneading the muscle that was just as tight there as every other part of his body.
Raegan looked up the second he slogged into the waiting room. “Hey,” she said as he approached. Erin sat on her lap, flipping through a picture book, content as could be.
He dropped into the chair next to her. “Hey.”
“Is he—”
“He’s fine. Definitely an allergic reaction. Were there nuts on those donuts?”
Guilt seeped into Raegan’s eyes. “Not the donuts, but there were banana nut muffins. I don’t think he ate one, though. But I guess if some of the nuts got onto one of the donuts . . .”
“If it’s a severe enough allergy, just being in the same bag could do it.” Bear reached over the wood armrest to squeeze Raegan’s hand. “You didn’t know. Not your fault. I could’ve just as easily given him something in the past couple days.”
Raegan lifted Erin and settled her in the chair next to her. “I feel so bad, though.”
He wanted to reassure her. Apologize for earlier, for towering over her and accusing her of interrogating the kids. But he couldn’t manage anything other than to lean over, elbows on his knees. “They gave me all these hospital forms to fill out, and I don’t know anything. Not his medical history, not his medications. I don’t even know Jamie’s middle name.”
“It’s Matthew,” Erin piped in, looking up from her book.
Matthew. Like his own middle name. He sank his forehead into his hands.
Rosa. He needed to call Rosa. Tell her what had happened. And while he was at it, he could ask her what she was thinking—not telling him about Jamie’s allergy. Worse—sending her kids off with a man so horribly inadequate. He might’ve known what to do on the kitchen floor. But now?
In the past few days, he hadn’t been able to think ahead more than an hour at a time. But here, in the taut silence of the waiting room, reality crashed in on him. He was in charge of two kids—two lives. He didn’t have a job. He didn’t have a plan.
“Bear, you knew exactly what to do back at the apartment. You knew what was happening, you knew to look for
an EpiPen, you knew how to use it. You were amazing.”
“Used to be a paramedic. That’s all.”
“You were a paramedic? What? When?”
“Like a decade ago. Back in Atlanta.” His other life. The life that chased him wherever he went. He shook his head, dropping his hands and staring at the blank blue wall across the room. “How could Rosa do this? Pack up her kids and send them off with a guy who has no clue what he’s doing? And fail to mention that one of them has a life-threatening allergy? What kind of mom—”
“Bear.” Raegan’s voice was soft with gentle warning. She tipped her head toward Erin, still occupied by her book.
He rose, moved down a few seats, waited until Raegan followed suit and settled next to him. “This is such a mess, Rae.”
“Their mom. Your sister?”
He shook his head. “Sister-in-law, married to my brother.”
“You’ve never mentioned a brother. Or any family, really.”
Not an oversight, which Raegan had probably guessed by now. He looked up, gaze flitting to the TV hanging overhead, the droning news, then over to Raegan. Patient, kind Raegan with the kind of family he’d grown up dreaming about. The kind with the loving, upstanding parents and the nice house and the family traditions—like big breakfasts and classic movies and games of basketball in the driveway.
Was it any wonder why he’d gravitated to Raegan, to Seth, all the Walkers? Just like with Annie and John and Elizabeth. Would there always be that piece of him looking for a stand-in family?
“This morning the kids mentioned that you left in a hurry. I’m assuming they meant left Atlanta?” There was a hesitant tint to Raegan’s words, as if she was worried he’d overreact the way he had this morning.
“I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier, Rae.”
“You weren’t a jerk.”
“I was. You were trying to do something nice.”
“I was barging in.”
“But in your usual thoughtful way.” He mustered the closest thing he had to a smile.
It dissolved too quickly, lost in a puddle of need. On any other day he would have brushed off her question about Atlanta. But today, in this moment, he needed something more than the comfort of his own privacy. “We did leave Atlanta in a hurry. My brother’s in jail, but apparently whatever he’s been involved with has been spilling over to Rosa and the kids. My guess is, he’s got himself in the middle of a drug war again.” The explanation came fast, ferocious. “Rosa’s family has always been big on the meth circuit. The McKinleys deal mostly in heroine, crack. Either one intrudes on the other’s territory and things go sour fast.”