Bear nodded a second time and Case left, leaving Bear alone in the silence of the cabin with only one thought to fill the hollow: He’d never get a second chance at his own childhood. But Jamie and Erin—they weren’t so old. It could be different for them. He could help.
He might’ve called Rosa in an angry frenzy last week. Made some threat he knew he couldn’t keep—not long-term anyway. However messy their lives, Rio and Rosa were Jamie and Erin’s parents.
But that didn’t mean Bear couldn’t be involved. It didn’t mean he couldn’t be the presence John and, these days, Case had become in his life. He didn’t know how it would work. But somehow, some way—
His phone trilled in his pocket. A text message. He pulled it free.
Sorry about last night. If you ask me out again, I’ll say yes.
Bear grinned to the empty room. Well, now, Raegan Walker. There was a turn for the positive.
In that case, I’m asking . . .
He didn’t have to wait more than three seconds for her reply.
In that case, I’m accepting.
Floorboards forgotten, he whipped off his tool belt, let it drop with a plunk, and raced out of the cabin. “Case?”
Raegan’s dad stood at the open window of Bear’s rental car, chatting with the kids. “Coming out to make a truce with your niece and nephew?”
Stubborn kids. Bear’s smile only widened. “Actually, turns out there is something you can do for me.”
“I can’t believe I forgot about Firefly Night.” Raegan let Bear pull her along the sidewalk amid a chorus of laughter and squeals from kids of all ages, most carrying jars and chasing after the lightning bugs that flickered along the riverbank. A cool breeze hummed over the surface of the Blaine River, its water shimmering under the golden glow of lamplight and a hazy pink dusk.
Tonight couldn’t possibly be more perfect.
And she couldn’t possibly be more grateful for those hours spent with Sara last night. For the tears and the understanding—all of it like a healing salve for wounds she was only now beginning to recognize for what they were.
She’d been telling herself for years it was the panic attacks that had shaped her life into what it was—not a bad life, certainly, but a stagnant one. But that was only halfway true.
“I read this C.S. Lewis quote once,” Sara had said while they still sat on Bear’s bed, finally eating the scones she’d brought. “He said he never expected grief to feel so much like fear. I wonder, Raegan, if perhaps you’ve never fully processed the loss of your mom.”
The words had foraged for a foothold in Raegan’s mind. “I still miss her, of course. But it’s been ten years.”
“Grief is no respecter of time. And it thrives on isolation. The more you ignore it, the more it hangs around. The less you talk about it, the less inclined it is to loosen its grip.”
Raegan glanced at Bear face’s—clean-shaven for once, the skin of his cheeks and chin and jaw just a twinge lighter than the rest of his bronzed features. He would understand grief. He’d lost Annie.
Maybe someday Raegan would ask about her. But not tonight. Tonight there were no yesterdays and no tomorrows. Tonight there was only this present moment. Just Raegan and Bear . . . and, well, half the town.
“You aren’t sorry I let the kids come along for part one of our date? I promise there won’t be such a crowd for part two.” Bear released her hand to slip his arm around her instead.
“There’s a part two?”
Bear had refused to tell her earlier what he had planned for the night, but when he’d driven into town and she’d seen the swarm of families spread all the way from the square to the riverfront, she’d remembered—Firefly Night. When all the kids captured as many lightning bugs as they could and everyone gathered on the Archway Bridge . . .
And at eight-thirty exactly, with the sun low in the sky and anticipation brushing through the crowd, the mayor would give the signal. They’d free the fireflies all at once. And for a few breathtaking moments . . . magic.
Bear pulled her closer. “This wasn’t even part of the plan originally. But Kit was at the house earlier and I heard her and Beckett talking about this firefly thing and I knew we couldn’t have you missing out on one of your classic hometown events.”
The hem of Raegan’s coral sundress swished above her knees, and her white flip-flops slapped against the cement. Good thing she’d grabbed a sweater before leaving the house—it was always several degrees cooler around the river than anywhere else in town.
Somewhere up ahead, Jamie and Erin raced around with Seth and Ava. She didn’t miss the way Bear kept his eyes trained on them, even as they strolled the sidewalk, unhurried.
“Speaking of Beckett, I think I owe him an apology.”
Bear glanced at her. “You’re not alone. I about bit his head off last night when I realized you were out in the storm. What did you do?”
“Got mad at him for researching you.”
Bear stopped, mouth gaping as his arm dropped from her back. “Say what?”
“Yeahhhh.” She drew out the word. “He might have done some Googling. Found an article about you and prison.”
“Wait, are you saying you knew about . . . all of it before I told you?”
Was he upset? “Not really. Not much anyway. I refused to read the article. It’s still crumpled up behind the desk in my bedroom.”
Bear just stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes traveling her face and his lips slowly spreading. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Is that a good thing?”
His gaze deepened and his voice lowered. “I’d show you just how good if we didn’t have an audience.”
Warmth started in her middle and spread in both directions. Maybe she didn’t need that sweater, after all.
“Wait—crumpled up behind your desk?”
“I was trying to make a basket in the trash can. Totally airballed it.”
He laughed and then, apparently no longer caring about the crowd, leaned in to kiss her cheek, lingering long enough for her to close her eyes and put one hand to his chest. “We could skip the fireflies, you know.” Her voice came out a mere whisper.
“Impatient, are we?”
“I’m just saying, any more of this and the rumors about us will be flying.”
“The rumors about us have always been flying.” He kissed her forehead, then backed away. He laced his fingers through hers and started walking again.
“Hey, Bear?”
She waited until he dipped his gaze to her once more.
“I hope you know everything you told me the other night . . . none of it changes the way I see you. It fills in the blanks a little, but that’s it. Even if you’d done the things you were convicted of, it wouldn’t change who you are today.”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s hard, though, when the label follows you around. Every job application, every interview. I think it’s why I loved the fact that no one in Maple Valley knew for so many years. I could just be Bear McKinley, the new guy. Not Bear McKinley, the convict.”
A string of kids raced past them, hands covering their jars. “To me you were always ‘Bear McKinley, the guy I wish would hurry up and notice me.’”
He laughed. “Don’t think for a second I didn’t notice you. Why do you think I hung out at your house so much?”
They’d nearly reached the Archway Bridge. “Because Seth lived there at the time. And because there was always an unending supply of snacks.”
Gosh, she loved Bear’s smile.
“Okay, but those weren’t the only reasons.”
The crowd of townspeople filtered around them as they stopped at the foot of the bridge. Up ahead, Seth had Erin sitting on his shoulders now and Jamie held a jar glimmering with trapped fireflies.
“So is there a story to this whole Firefly Night thing?” Bear asked.
Raegan shrugged. “You’d think so. But if there is, I’ve never heard it. Just another wacky
little Maple Valley tradition.”
At the peak of the curved bridge, Mayor Milt stood on a box and held his megaphone aloft. His metallic voice called out instructions while the gathering teemed onto and around the bridge. “Remember to hold your jars as high in the air as you can—away from other people’s faces. We don’t need people getting poked in the eye by bugs. Point your jars toward the river.”
He started counting down and the townspeople joined in. “Three. Two. One—”
For one uncanny moment, an awed quiet fell over the riverbank as thousands of beads of yellow-green light floated free, bobbing over the water, their reflections like moonlit snow. The distant buzz of cicadas, a toad’s croaking, the gurgle of moving ripples—all a perfect backdrop as the trail of lights gradually spread and slowed and disappeared.
“Well, that wasn’t wacky,” Bear whispered.
“Not wacky at all.”
A second later, applause broke out. Bear turned to her. “Someone should paint that.”
“Got any someones in mind?”
Bear reached for her hand again, sent Seth a quick nod—he must be taking the kids back to Dad’s—and then steered Raegan around a cluster of people. “I know you’re busy with your mural, but after? You do have all those empty canvases waiting in my apartment, after all.”
“Actually they’re not all empty anymore.”
He glanced at her with a question in his eyes.
“Last night after Sara left, I stayed behind. Couldn’t help it. Just started painting and couldn’t stop.” And for the first time since lugging that easel up the steps to Bear’s apartment, since ordering oils and picking out new brushes, she’d felt what she’d used to feel.
She’d felt . . . everything. An exhilarating melding of joy and desire and curiosity and adventure. Working on the mural had tugged on her creativity. But last night, all alone in that little apartment, she’d come alive.
It’d been all she could do not to hide away there again today. But she’d needed to get back to work on the mural. Thankfully, she’d been able to find someone to cover her shift at the pool this afternoon. She’d spent all day redoing the chalk work the rain had washed away the previous evening.
“Can I see what you painted?”
Grass tickled her feet as Bear pulled her away from the crowd. “Not just yet. But eventually, sure.” They crossed the street that bordered the river and started down a parallel sidewalk. “So, what’s part two?”
“Patience is a virtue, Raegan.”
“Don’t talk to me about patience. I’ve been waiting over five years for this date.” He wasn’t leading her back to the car, so wherever they were headed must be within walking distance. Up ahead, Coffee Coffee’s striped awning flapped in the breeze. He wouldn’t be taking her there, though. His apartment? No, he would’ve seen her painting from last night and asked her about it already.
The scaffolding that climbed the front of the Hay & Feed Store came into view. She could picture him planning a candlelit dinner atop the platform, but he’d said they wouldn’t have an audience. And yet, he did seem to be leading her in that direction—
Her breath caught as realization dawned.
“You figured it out.” He sounded more impressed than disappointed.
“No, I didn’t. I have no idea where we’re going or what we’re doing.”
“Liar.” He sighed. But he was smiling, and yes, he tugged her straight to the building and rounded its corner, where a cracked-open window awaited. “I talked to your dad.”
“Bear McKinley.” She said his name through a wonder-filled exhale.
“He said when he took your mom here on their first date, they tried the front and back door and two other windows before they got to this one. We got a head start.” He wedged his fingers under the window’s base and hefted it up. “After you.”
“You realize we’re breaking into a building with half of Maple Valley milling around.” Although at least on this side of the structure, they were removed from most prying eyes.
“Yes, but I’ve made nice with the local police chief. Besides, I’ve already been convicted of much worse crimes. This is small potatoes.” He still gripped the window, waiting for Raegan to climb in. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever been able to joke about that.”
Raegan stepped up to the window, the scent of Bear’s aftershave enough to quicken her senses. “Obviously I’m a good influence on you.”
“Obviously. Now, in you go.”
She toppled in, blinking to adjust to the darkness. Bear climbed in behind her, snapped on a flashlight he must’ve stored here earlier. He reached for her hand and led her farther into the building, around a corner, into what used to be the store’s main room . . .
And Raegan lost her breath. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of candles—all shapes and sizes, scattered over every surface—the floor, hollowed built-ins, a counter that ran along one wall. “How did you . . . ?” She couldn’t even finish the question, she was so in awe.
“Kate, Colton, and Megan from the coffee shop. Couldn’t have done it without them. Meg kept an eye on the place until we arrived.”
“I didn’t even notice her.”
“That’s because when you were climbing in one window, she was climbing out another.” Bear stood just behind her, speaking over her shoulder. “I know how much you miss her, Rae. Maybe it’s cheesy, but—”
“No. It’s not. Bear, I . . . this is . . .” It was beautiful. And thoughtful. And a thousand other things she didn’t know how to put into words. All she knew was that this right here was everything she hadn’t known she was waiting for.
A man who could see into the depths of her loss and find a lingering beauty. Who could pull something special from something painful. And give her a memory to forever soothe her soul.
When she turned to face Bear, he was reaching into his pocket.
“Apparently your parents spent their whole first date playing cards.” He held up a fresh deck, plastic packaging still in place. “How do you feel about Rummy?”
She threw her arms around him. “Very, very, very good.”
14
“You’re falling asleep.”
Raegan’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Bear’s voice. Half the candles had burned down to nothing in the past hours, but just enough flickering light remained to highlight the amusement on Bear’s face. “Am not.”
“It’s been your turn for two minutes. Your eyes were closed, your head bobbing. I was just waiting for the drool.” Only Bear could smirk so charmingly.
“I don’t drool. And I wasn’t nodding off.” Her flip-flops lay discarded beside her, her bare feet tucked under her crossed legs and the fanned skirt of her dress. She glanced at her cards, but the numbers didn’t register. What time was it, anyway? “I was thinking. Strategizing.”
“It’s Rummy. Not a whole lot of strategy to it.”
“I’m trying to decide whether to draw or take the top card on the discard pile—or take the whole discard pile. That’s a big decision for this late at night.”
Bear reached for a Twizzler from the half-empty bag between them. “This early in the morning, you mean.”
“It’s after midnight?”
“Rae, it’s gotta be like two, at least.”
“We’ve been playing Rummy for five hours?”
“Pretending to play Rummy.”
She mirrored his grin. He had a point. They’d spent more time talking and laughing than shuffling and dealing cards. Hadn’t even bothered keeping score. They’d talked about her mural, her worries about finishing in time and not being able to figure out what was still missing from her design. They’d talked about his ten months in Brazil, his work at Sara’s ranch, all the things he’d learned about Jamie and Erin in the past two weeks.
Like how, despite the instability of her childhood so far, Erin could already read at a first-grade level. Like how Jamie definitely had a cute little crush on Elise. How both kids seemed so ve
ry hungry for affection and attention.
“Part of me is so angry at Rio and Rosa for the way they’ve raised Jamie and Erin,” Bear had said. “But then I remember . . . they’re just doing what their own parents modeled for them. I know Rosa loves the kids. I saw it that night she asked me to take them. And Rio . . .”
His fingers had curled his cards as a memory took hold of his distant expression.
“I went to see them right after I got out of prison. First time I ever met Jamie. He was four and sitting on Rio’s lap. I was angry at Rio then, too. I thought in making the sacrifice I did, it’d prompt him into changing, making different choices. But even through my frustration, I saw the way he held Jamie, the love in his eyes.” He’d laid his cards facedown on the floor. “Maybe love isn’t always enough.”
She hadn’t known what to say. Hadn’t known how to stop herself from taking his words and turning them toward herself. She loved Bear, but it might not be enough to keep him here.
So she’d done the only thing she could think to do. Cut off the worrisome thought by leaning over the pile of cards to cup Bear’s cheeks and kiss him until her doubts had no choice but to flee.
Only when she broke away did she finally find words. “Perfect love casts out fear.”
She’d scooted closer to Bear during that kiss until her knees touched his and the cards scattered. His face was only a breath away. “What?”
“It’s a verse my mom used to say all the time.” Especially after the cancer came back. “I know you’re scared for your family, Bear. You’re scared they’ll fall too far and you’ll go tumbling with them. But you can’t be their safety net.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Make peace with your own imperfect love. Understand that you can’t fix everything. Give yourself some grace and your fears to God. Put your faith in His perfect love.”
She hadn’t known where the words came from, only that she needed them as much as Bear. Because as surely as her love for this man had only grown tonight, so did her own fears.