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His stomach did a funny little flip and then dropped straight to his new snow boots. She was leaning on the counter, laughing at something the dark-haired girl with piercings was saying. Her long hair was pulled back, a few strands loose around her face, and even from here he could see the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She looked… happy. Warm. Completely at home.
Michael’s heart did something complicated and painful. He felt faint and sweaty and cold and hot all at once.
She’s fine without me, he thought, the realization landing like a quiet little punch. Of course she is.
He stood there on the sidewalk in the falling snow, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, and understood — with slow, creeping clarity — that he had been catastrophically, embarrassingly, completely blind for nine years.
He turned around, walked a few steps, and sat down on the snow-covered stone steps beside the diner. The cold immediately seeped through his new snow pants, but he barely noticed.
A shadow fell over him.
Michael looked up.
And up.
Bear stood on the step above him — black Stetson, trench coat, massive and steady and blocking out half the world. He looked down at Michael with that familiar quiet patience.
Michael stared back.
Bear sat down beside him. The wooden step groaned under their combined weight.
For a while neither of them spoke. The diner noise filtered out softly behind them — laughter, clinking plates, warmth.
“You figured it out, huh,” Bear said eventually.
Michael nodded, swallowing hard.
“Scared?”
Another nod.
Bear exhaled a long, slow breath that clouded white in the cold air. “Yeah. Well.” He looked out at the quiet street. “Welcome to the club.”
Michael let out a shaky little laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. “This club sucks.”
Bear’s mouth twitched into a small, genuine smile. “Maybe a little.”
He stood, reached down, and pulled Michael upright in one easy motion, like he weighed nothing. Then he wrapped him in a brief, solid hug.
“Good to see you, Buddy.”
Michael nodded against the big man’s coat, eyes burning. “Good to see you too Bear.”
Bear kept a hand on his shoulder as they turned toward the door. “You look terrible.”
“Well…my luggage is in Geneva.”
Bear glanced at him. “I don’t even want to know.”
Michael managed a weak smile. “Me either.”
Bear opened the door. Warm air and the smell of coffee and fresh pie washed over them. Michael followed him inside, heart hammering as his eyes immediately searched for Isabelle.
SAGE
Sage laughed again as Annie stamped her snow-dusted boots on the checkerboard floor, cheeks flushed with that familiar mix of exasperation and affection.
“Sage! You can’t keep giving me your tips, honey. You need to keep them!”
