Boarlander Bash Bear 2(16)

“So you think I did wrong leaving last night?”

“No, I think your reaction was fair. That’s a big blow. I know how bad you want cubs, and now the woman you want is trying to get pregnant by another.” Harrison stripped a small branch off the log they sat on and broke it in half. “Bash, do you remember your real dad?”

“Yes,” he gritted out, void of emotion.

“How was he to you and your mom?”

“He was an asshole. Didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve me. I clawed him up as soon as I was big enough and able.”

“Yep. Now tell me about your stepdad.”

“I love Bill.” Bash crossed his arms over his chest and bit his bottom lip. “He came in when I was ten, and I was his, and my mom was his. I wish Bill was the real stock I came from.”

“Is he still nice to your mom?”

Bash nodded hard once. “They’ve been together nineteen years, and he still buys her flowers every Monday and tells her nice things about the way she looks.”

“And who sends you those funny birthday letters and cases of beer every October twenty-ninth?”

“Bill.”

“And did he ever make you feel less important because you weren’t his biological son?”

“No.”

“Do you think you or your bear will be mad at Emerson’s baby for being born with someone else’s donated DNA?”

Oooh, he saw what Harrison was saying. He could be a Bill for Emerson’s baby if he stayed friends with her. Bash scrubbed his hand down the stubble on his jaw as his thoughts raced around like a tornado. Okay, Emerson wasn’t picking him back, but he didn’t like the thought of her not being in his life. She wanted a smart daddy for her baby, and maybe that was okay. She laughed a lot at what Bash said, and not in a way that was making fun of him like kids used to do in school. She thought he was funny. It would be good if she had a smart baby. Bash imagined himself sitting in the front row when the kid played piano recitals and collected fancy awards, and no one would be prouder. He imagined Emerson’s belly swollen with a baby, and the ache in his chest eased. Did it matter that the child would be another man’s? It did, but how much? Would it be enough to keep him from being friends with Emerson? His life felt empty just thinking about it.

“I think I messed up,” he said low. “Emerson was crying last night. Shit. She’s probably scared to do this by herself, and I just left her there. I need the day off work tomorrow, Boss Bear.”

Harrison gripped his shoulder and shook him slowly. “You got it.”





Chapter Seven




Emerson choked down the horse pill the doctor had called pre-natal vitamins. She’d been taking them for months to prepare her body to grow a baby but, for some reason, this morning it was ridiculously hard to get down. She gagged and chugged water, then ate a cracker to bully the pill down her esophagus.

Maybe it was because she was nervous. She’d had chills since she woke up this morning and had peed about a billion times. She blew out a long, shaking breath as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was pale as a sheet, despite all the make-up she’d put on.

She was utterly alone.

Closing her eyes, she fought off another round of tears. Her family didn’t support this decision, so they had refused to come to the appointment. But…hopefully she wouldn’t be so alone after today. Emerson pressed her palms against her soft stomach and gave herself a tremulous smile in the mirror.

A knock sounded at the door, and Emerson frowned at the clock. 11:30. She didn’t have time to talk to solicitors, but she had ordered pregnancy tests in bulk online and was waiting on that delivery. Hopefully it was Mr. Mark, the friendly postal worker who still delivered door-to-door in this neighborhood.

With a plastered smile, Emerson opened her door and froze. The saturated midday sunlight was bright around Bash’s wide shoulders. He stood straight-backed, much taller than her, but his weight was shifted to his back leg, as if he was uncertain of his decision to be here. In his hands was a small, floppy, black stuffed bear and a bouquet of bright pink roses wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Don’t tell me to leave,” he said low.

“I won’t.”

“I’m sorry about the other night.” His eyes were so incredibly bright, raw, and vulnerable right now. “I panicked, and I was hurt. I just wanted to get away from the pain, but not away from you.” He handed her the bear and the flowers, and the corner of his lips turned up in a hesitant smile. “Emerson roses, and that one is a bear, like me. My fur is black.”

Emerson dragged a breath into her lungs, hugged the bear tightly to her chest, and clutched the wrapped flowers, blinking back the moisture that rimmed her eyes.