Bears VS Wolves (Team Shifter 1)

I didn’t count on Meredith.

Finally, I reach my home. I’m carrying my shredded clothing in a paper sack one of the baristas gave me, and I dig through the bag to find my key. Right now, the best thing to do is take a shower and go to sleep. Hell, I’m feeling the urge to hibernate away and just forget this entire thing ever happened.

Would that be so bad?

It doesn’t feel like it.

It feels like hibernating away would actually be pretty wonderful.

As soon as I step into the house, though, I shake my head because I can fucking smell her.

Shit.

“Meredith, come out.”

I don’t know where she is, but she’s here. I know she is.

My heart feels like it’s going to explode from surprise or sadness, and I don’t know which. What’s worse is that I don’t know which would be better.

And then she steps out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Hey,” she whispers. She’s wearing a tiny sundress that barely covers her thighs. Her dark hair hangs loosely over her shoulders, and it highlights the lovely color of her skin.

“What are you doing here?”

I thought she never wanted to see me again.

“We need to talk.”

“Foxy told me. Tomorrow at noon.”

There’s a lump in my throat that seems to be choking me. I hate knowing that this thing before us is going to be over before it ever really started.

“That’s what we need to talk about.”

She wrings her hands and looks at me. That’s when I notice the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Robert, I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I’m sorry.”

Chapter 15

Meredith

Calling the clinic and pretending to work for the post office was dirty.

I get that.

It was sneaky and sly, but it worked, and the receptionist gave me Robert’s mailing address without any trouble at all. It was Foxy’s idea, and I’ve got to give her credit. Foxes are sly after all, and we’ve both lived in Claw Valley long enough to be able to know exactly what to say. I simply called the clinic and said we were having a difficult time figuring out where to deliver a Doctor Robert’s mail. I asked if the receptionist could help me and she was pleased to do so.

I went over to his place and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He wasn’t home, and obviously wasn’t going to be for awhile, so I broke in the back. I’m not ashamed that my lock-picking skills are fantastic. As a bartender, the more diverse my skills are, the better my tips are. I’ve had to help more than a couple of customers break into their own cars after locking their keys inside.

But now he’s here.