by Thorne, Elle
“Not at the moment.”
“I’m worried about you.” She put her arm around him, leaned her head on his side.
“Don’t be. I’m fine. Been fine for a long time.”
He felt her shaking her head, but she said nothing.
Inside him, his bear was perplexed, too. Later, when he was alone, Griz would shift and give the bear his head. Let him run through the woods, burn off the emotions that had surfaced with the envelope.
But for now, Griz needed to keep Mae and the questions he could tell were burning in her mind, at bay. Mae had heard the name Allegra when she’d asked him about not having a woman. Not having a mate. He’d told her briefly that there’d been a woman, once. A woman named Allegra.
Mae continued to study him, but he remained silent.
He didn’t want to talk about Allegra Draecen.
Not one bit.
He didn’t want to think of her. Even though she’d left an impression on him that was burning into his heart, his memory, his very soul.
* * *
The next morning, Griz, in his bear form—a grizzly bear, no less—rambled through the woods at a brisk pace, wavering between a full run and a trot. His bear was panting, heart beating at a breakneck speed.
“Run all you want,” Griz told his bear in their collective mind. “Run until you can’t run anymore.”
But Griz no matter how much his bear ran, no matter how much he himself ran, he wouldn’t be able to push Allegra from his mind. Or heart. Or his bear’s heart and mind.
She haunted him, her memory following him no matter where he went. He’d spent years not remembering her, and then later, he’d spent years trying to forget her, but the scent of the ocean, the wind blowing in the trees, the notes of a song, anything and everything reminded him of the only woman he’d ever loved.
The night before had been a sleepless one, naturally. And the letter had stayed in its spot between the two boards. Though he’d wondered how she knew to put a G on the envelope. G for Griz. Not L for Larsen, which was the name she used to know him by. The only name he’d had back then.
After walking Mae to the door, he’d left the woodshop. He couldn’t stay there, not without feeling Allegra’s presence. Not without smelling her.
He hadn’t told Mae, but his shifter senses had picked up Allegra’s scent and nearly drove his bear mad with the need to roar in despair.
“You’re not the only one who’s broken-hearted,” Griz reminded his bear.
His bear growled at him, the sound loud in the forest, bouncing off trees and mountainsides.
“So much for staying quiet,” Griz grumbled.
Then his bear froze. He’d heard something. They waited for whatever was out in the wilderness to reveal itself. It wasn’t as though Griz was afraid. Why would he be? A massive grizzly, he had nothing to fear in these forested mountainous lands.
Almost nothing, he reminded himself, for shifters did have enemies, and some of those enemies were shifters themselves.
There it was, the sound again. Crunching of leaves, snapping of twigs. His bear made a rumbling sound deep in his chest.
Another bear stepped into the tiny clearing.
Griz’s bear narrowed its eyes, appraising.
With the typical rigmarole of bones crunching, sinew adjusting and shortening, the newcomer shifted into a human form.
Doc Evans, in rumpled clothing that looked like he’d been wrestling, leaned against a tree, a half-smile on his face.
Griz’s bear nodded, then Griz shifted into his human form, grimacing at the discomfort shifting caused
“Thought I’d find you out here.” Doc crossed the clearing at a casual pace, as though he was out for a walk in the park.
“Pretty good distance from your place,” Griz reminded him.
“Guess so.”
It was Griz’s turn to lean against a tree. “Mae send you?”
“She’s worried about you.”
Doc was the closest thing to a best friend these days, much like Mae. Griz was almost as close to him as he was to Mae.
“She needn’t be.”
Doc made a soft scoffing sound. “Try telling her that.”
Griz smiled. “I did.”
“Mm-hmm. Me, too. Doesn’t do any good,” Doc groused, bending to pick up a pine cone and pitching it at a tree.
“Don’t I know it. But she’s your woman.”
Doc grinned. “That she is. Don’t think I’d want her to be any different than she is, even though—” He sent another pine cone sailing through the air.
“Yup. Even though.” Griz nodded. “You can go back and tell her you did your best. You found me, and I’m fine.”
Doc scrubbed his face. “But you’re not fine. You’re bothered.”
Griz picked a piece of bark off the tree, rolling it between his fingertips. “Might be. But it’s for me to deal with.”
Doc exhaled. “She’s not going to be happy.”
“That’s for you to deal with.” Griz shot Doc a grin, shifted into his bear, and ambled back the way he’d come.
Afterword
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About Elle
Elle Thorne spent almost as much time denying that she wrote romance as she has writing it. It took her a few years to stop being a closet romantic.
Originally from Europe, she wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else but Texas. Unless it was another southern—translation: warm!—state. A southern European by birth, she wants to be near the water and the Mediterranean temperatures if possible.
Where does she like to hang out? Near a lake, a beach, preferably with a latte—extra shot of espresso, please! She’s inspired by the everyday men who make dreams come true. She loves a roughneck, especially one with a callous or two on his hands. A man who knows how to fix a car, please a woman, and protect what’s his. Nothing less will do.
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