Page 56 of Coveted By the Bear

And telling him, so cruelly, that I didn’t need him like he needed me…

I wretched. In one fluid motion, I stood and pulled the knife from its leather case in my pocket. I hurled it at a nearby tree. It spun in a beautiful dance before it shanked off my intended target and ricocheted off into the woods. I turned away from my failure to find a dash of color sitting forlornly on the porch.

My breath hitched in misery as I touched the edge of a pink rose with the tip of my finger. He’d brought me flowers. I clutched them to my chest with bloody hands and cried on the stairs until my head ached from the emotional effort.

Hours stretched into night and day again. Evenings were the loneliest when I had nothing to do but think about Caleb. My tears washed away the things I’d begun to like about myself.

Later that week, Brian came by the pie shop and kindly told me that Caleb had, in fact, accepted the job on the big rig three hours away. And though it had been my plan to give him the life he deserved, the realization that Caleb was really lost to me was a new and devastating cut.

I worked for Opal in a numb haze. My hands did their job, but my mind, in an effort to protect itself from the hurt, bumbled from one unimportant thought to the next, the background noise nothing more than the sound of a beehive in late spring.

I’d had him. For one bright and explosive moment, I had everything. A future and a man who loved me. Safety. It would have been better if I’d never had anything at all. If I could erase it, I would. I’d have gone back to existing instead of living if it meant the clenching, suffocating tightness inside my chest would ease.

****

Caleb

Becca hailed me from across the street, but I did my best to ignore her. Maybe if she thought I didn’t see her, she would give up on whatever annoying errand she was on. Apparently, I gave her way too much credit.

“Caleb,” she shouted, stopping just about everyone on Main Street.

I growled and turned to glare at her. “What do you want, Becca?”

She jogged across the street with a large stack of papers in her hands. “I just thought you would want to know some things about your little girlfriend before they become public knowledge.”

“We’re not together anymore.” I walked off but Becca followed closely behind.

“Well, thank goodness you finally came to your senses because, apparently, Crazy Mira really is crazy.”

I sighed in utter irritation and rounded on her. “What are you talking about?”

Becca shoved a stapled stack of papers into my chest. “Mira spent a year in a mental institution. Says so right there in her report, along with a whole list of things she was admitted for.”

“What? Where did you get this?” I asked.

“That doesn’t matter, Caleb. You’re completely missing the point.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Tell me Sheriff Clancy doesn’t know about you getting these.”

Becca straightened her spine and lifted her chin primly. “He doesn’t.”

I wanted to laugh at her gall. It was an insult to her character that I wasn’t even surprised. I snatched the stack of papers she still clung to and marched toward my truck.

“I still have the original,” Becca sang after me. “I can always make more copies.”

I tried to make it all the way home before I read Mira’s records, but I couldn’t. The truck skidded to a stop on the side of the road, and I pinned the first page against the steering wheel.

Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome

Depression

Possible Bipolar Disorder

Speech Impediments due to Mental Trauma

Violent Outbursts

Panic Attacks