Page 36 of Step Brother Bear

“He’s not my brother! And don’t you dare say anything about him. You don’t even know him!”

“Whoa.” He holds his hands up, backing away. “I didn’t know you two were so close, since you know, you never brought him up before.”

“Oh, so now you remember if I brought up my family before or not.” I turn away from him. “Lewis, just go. I don’t have the energy to have this conversation with you.”

He grabs my wrist, swinging me back to him and banging me against his chest. “Listen, you need to quit being such a bitch. I get it, you’re punishing me for dumping you, but I’m the best thing you have going in your life. Cut the crap, pack up your stuff, and let's go.”

Lewis would never have won boyfriend of the year, but this is on another level. He’d mutter names for me under his breath, but he’d never call me something derogatory so loudly, with his jaw clenched and his grip tight on my skin like it is now. I pull back. “You need to go!” Finally, I’m sticking up for myself for once in my life, and it feels fucking great. Until it doesn’t.

Lewis glares at me, steam practically leaving his ears as he pushes me against the wall, causing me to bounce. “Ouch, what the fuck!”

He grabs me by my jaw. “Listen, you little bitch…” The sentence ends there. He’s yanked away from me. It happens so fast. His screams, the blood, the fur, all of it assaults my senses before I have a chance to register what’s happening. The moment settles. A bear pins Lewis to my bedroom floor, roaring in his blood-streaked face. Except no. Of course, it’s not just a bear.

“Wait, no!” I don’t even think; I jump toward the violence, grabbing Derek’s fur before he does anymore damage. He swats at me. The pain is immediate, blood pearling from the gash across my arm. I yelp, and Derek turns his attention away from Lewis and focuses on me, his ursine eyes wide.

One second, he’s a huge furry beast atop my ex, the next he’s my naked stepbrother, climbing off Lewis and rushing to me, cradling my injured arm in his hands. “Oh, no. Fuck! What did I do? I’m so sorry, Isabella. God, I’m so sorry.” His words tangle around a deep-throated sob. He presses his hand against my gash.

“Derek.” I grab his face with my other hand. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” It’s the truth. Now that more clarity settles over me, the pain isn’t bad, and the cut isn’t deep.

Lewis on the other hand, well, he’s fucked.

I push Derek’s hand away, replacing his pressure with my own as I rush to Lewis’ side. “Lewis!” I shout, but he doesn’t answer. I press my fingertips to his wrist, examining his face with four large gashes slashed clear across. “He’s alive,” I shout. “We need to get out of here.”

I turn to Derek, his face white. He nods.

I stand, looking around the room. “I think he passed out from the shock. There’s not that much blood, but shit, he’s going to need plastic surgery or something.” I can’t look at him again. The gashes over his chest, the blood soaking through his white Ralph Lauren polo, it’s all too much. “Is there somewhere we can go to hide out before we figure out what to do next?”

“Wait, what?”

I turn to Derek, wide-eyed, shaking, and naked. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. It does something to me, cracks open a hard layer of my heart. I go to my closet, pulling out a hoodie and gray sweatpants that are probably his, stolen from the laundry room forever ago. “Here, put these on.” I place the clothing into his outstretched hands, leading him to the edge of my bed to sit down. I kneel before him, cradling his face. “Calm down, Derek. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” I kiss his temple, running my hand through his hair.

He stares at me as if I’m the oddest creature he’s ever laid eyes on. “What are you talking about? I just hurt you! I mutilated your boyfriend? Aren’t you furious at me?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I see you. I know you were trying to protect me. Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you.”

He pulls me into his arms, almost like a child cradling a teddy bear. Big sloppy tears spill from his eyes, yet he doesn’t tear his gaze away from me as if he can’t believe I’m real and he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he blinks. “No,” he says through his tears, shaking his head. “This is bad. You can’t come with me. I can’t drag you into my shit.”

“You're not dragging me into your shit. I’m coming freely. God, Derek. No one has ever stood up for me like that, except that’s not true. You are the only person who has actually seen me throughout my life. I’m coming with you. You’re not leaving me behind.”

“But what about Lewis?”

“What about him?”

“Um, he’s like almost dead, and I thought you missed him?”

I laugh. “Fuck that guy. Seriously.” I stand, grabbing his hand to pull him up with me, noticing the blood covering both of us. “Come on, let’s clean up quickly, and let’s go. We’ll find somewhere to hide.”

It’s wild. Just hours before, I had no idea what I was going to do next. I was still unsure about Lewis, about the interview, but most of all, my feelings for Derek. Now, it’s crystal clear. All it took was witnessing Derek at his worst, covered in blood, unable to control himself, and everything made sense to me. I want him. And I’ll do whatever I need to make it possible.

As if on cue, Lewis coughs, sputtering to a groaning consciousness. I should probably tend to him, call the ambulance or something, but I’m too concerned with getting Derek and me out of here. Mom should be home soon. She can deal with this mess.

I grab an old t-shirt on the floor and wrap it around my arm before finding a duffel bag to throw in a few outfits. Derek sits in a ball, the clothes I gave him hanging limply in his hand as he stares at Lewis. He’s in shock, and it’s clear I’m the one who has to get us to safety.

“Isabella…” Lewis groans, moving his hands to his face.

I throw my duffel bag over my shoulder. “Fuck you, Lewis!”

I step over his body, shooting him the middle finger with my free hand, with my other, I pull my bear out of my bedroom and off to whatever life throws our way next.