I’m more than a little sore from our activities, and I need the bathroom. But... come breakfast, I’ll ask him a few questions.
I slip back down the hall and use the bathroom.
On my way out, I notice another door I’d missed before. It’s narrower and doesn’t lead outside. It has no handle, just a simple latch.
A storage room, maybe.
The latch is cool under my palm, and it barely creaks when I push it open.
It’s dark, spare. The smell of dust and leather hangs heavy, with shelves stacked with boxes. One in the corner, I spot an old trunk, lid warped with age.
I shouldn’t be snooping, but I can’t help myself.
I creep closer and pry it open.
My breath catches, first at the red velvet lining the inside.
Then at the actual contents.
A broad wristband, shiny purple trunks, a heavy championship belt dulled with wear but still shiny enough to announce what it is.
Memories flash... of me half-watching the TV with delivery guys on lunch breaks, pretending not to care while secretlyfascinated by the sheer size of the men onscreen, by the spectacle.
The mountain of a man they cheered for?—
Oh. My. God.
That’s why he’s felt familiar from the start. Because I’ve seen him before. Not like he is now, not raw and broken, but feral while shining under lights. Oiled, with his beautiful muscles bunching as he flung his opponents clear across the ring, roaring like the animal he was named after.
Holy shit. Bear is?—
The floor creaks behind me.
I whirl as he fills the doorway, spatula in one hand, eyes burning holes through me. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he snarls.
“I...” My throat dries. “You were—are famous. You’re The Grizzly.”
His jaw ticks. He stalks closer, gaze dropping to the belt in my hands. And then to my face. The shine in my eyes must betray me, because his expression twists.
“You like me better now that you know I was someone? Does it make it easier to think about sticking around longer?” he accuses, voice harsh.
“Or at all?”
Hurt lances, sharp and deep. “What? No! How dare you?”
His mouth curls bitter. “You wouldn’t be the first, doll. Women loved the show. The spotlight. Thought they could fix the beast when the cameras went off.”
The words cut deeper than they should. My anger spikes and my fingers curl around his prized trophy. “So I’m not allowed to mention my ex, but you get to throw your past lovers in my face? Judge me against them?”
He frowns, but he doesn’t deny it.
“Fuck you,Grizzly.”
I go to brush past him, but his arm shoots out, catching me. “Still doesn’t excuse you snooping.”
The words cut some more, because they’re half right. Shame burns my skin. But I’m still hurt from his other unfair accusations. And I lash out before I can think, my palm cracking across his cheek.
The sound hangs in the air.
