But I can’t seem to make my feet or hands work. Not when she’s holding pieces of me in her small, determined hands like she’s not about to let go.
And... Jesus, it’s been a long time since someone cared like this... enough to dig beneath the surface, enough to see past the fame and the fat bank account to ask about the scars.
I clear my throat. “Family first,” I rasp, voice low. “Or maybe family last. Either way, they were my first lesson in betrayal.”
Her brows lift, and soft sympathy washes over her eyes, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“My old man was gone before I was tall enough to reach the counter. My mother... might as well have been gone. Needles. Bottles. You name it, she reached for it. Same for my uncles, grandpa too. At any point in time, they were deep into oneaddiction or another. I learned early to take care of myself. To take care of my brothers too, when they were still small enough to need it.”
The memory makes me clench my fists. I don’t talk about them. Not even in my own head. Not when all they ever saw me as was a fucking ATM after I made something of myself.
“And when I got big enough, when the world started noticing me, when fists and muscle finally turned into money? They crawled back. All of them. Suddenly they remembered my name. Wanted a piece. Always a piece.”
My chest heaves. I spit the words like they taste foul because they do. The foulest.
“Then came the women. Groupies. Wrestlers’ girlfriends pushing their girlfriends, then themselves at me—fuck fidelity or loyalty. Managers and assistants. Thought they wanted me. But they only wantedThe Grizzly. Wanted the belt. The fame. The money. My body, sure—but not me. Half of the chicks thought they could handle me until they saw the size of my junk, then they cried or whined.” Acrid laughter sears my throat. “Hell, one even wanted me to pay by the fucking inch.”
Her eyes goggle and her lips part like she wants to speak, but she waits.
Smart girl.
I drag my hands down my face. “One of them... I thought she was different. Stuck around longer than the rest. Promised me forever. You know what she did? Sold a story to the fucking tabloids about what I was like behind closed doors. Said I was violent. Dangerous. I lost endorsements overnight. Locker room looked at me sideways. Took years to scrub that stain off, and it still never came clean.”
I pace to the far wall, rake a hand through my hair. My lungs burn like I’ve been running.
“My manager was supposed to have my back. He knew it was bullshit. He knew I was loyal. That I kept my nose clean, never touched the crap half the roster was snorting. But loyalty doesn’t fill bank accounts. You know what he did? Signed me up for matches I wasn’t ready for, contracts that bled me dry. Took cuts off the top. Then, when I was hurt and bleeding, when I couldn’t give him what he wanted anymore—” My throat closes, but I force it out. “He left me too. Like I was nothing.”
The silence that follows feels like it could crush me.
I’ve said too much. Too fast.
Her hand hovers over the belt, trembling slightly. “Bear...”
My chest caves in. No. I can’t take that tone. Pity or empathy or softness, I don’t fucking want it.
I turn away, shoulders rigid, the air thick with everything I didn’t mean to say. “That’s fucking enough for tonight.”
I don’t wait for her answer.
I stalk past her, snatch the belt from her hand, and toss it on the pile. I shove the tarp back over the memories and lock it all away again.
Then I scoop her up and march from the barn.
But the damage is done.
She knows too much.
And not nearly enough.
Lily
Sleep doesn’t come easy.
Not after what he told me in the barn.
Family betrayals. Women selling him out. His own manager gutting him for cash before tossing him aside.
I lie awake, staring at the rafters while Bear sits hunched in the armchair, his face a mask of stone. He doesn’t speak, not even when I whisper his name. The fire pops, and his jaw ticks, and he broods, silent and impenetrable.
