Jeep, I’m tired.
“You still want barbeque, Pig?”
I can’t help giggling. “That sounds super weird.”
“Is that a yes?”
I straighten my shoulders. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
When we get into the booth at Ed’s Barbeque Pit, he slides in beside me, wraps an arm around my back, and pulls my head against his arm.
“Gwennie.”
“Mmm.”
His lips find my head. “I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you too.”
I can feel the question that he doesn’t ask. Can feel him want to ask me. What’s wrong? I know I’ve been more distracted lately, but I’m not sure how to explain it to him. I’ve talked about the accident a few times, but there’s no way I’m telling him how scared I feel lately. Scared that whoever hit me has found me and came here to “talk.” I don’t want to make an issue of this, telling Bear all about what happened to me. I want my feelings to go away. Also, I’m not sure my fears are rational.
So I keep my mouth shut, silently thankful for the way he keeps an arm around me on the sidewalk, never leaves my side when we’re in public, even for a moment; for the fact that he hasn’t pushed us to move back into my place. I think Barrett knows my fears without me saying, and I love him for it.
I love everything about this man.
SEVENTEEN
GWENNA
December 19, 2015
I wake up one morning with the knowledge that I have to go. Back into the enclosure. It’s been more than a week. I’ve put off my usual hibernation-season walks through the land inside the fence, telling myself the bears are all doing well, staying in their little nooks, so clearly nothing’s wrong. That’s irresponsible. It’s not okay.
When Barrett leaves to go see Doc, he tells me to keep the doors locked and the new alarm system turned on. I tell him I will. When his Jeep disappears down the sloping driveway, I go up to his room and dress in boots, jeans, and a brown fleece, then take my handgun from the nightstand drawer and strap it to the waist of my jeans.
Back downstairs, I scribble a quick note letting him know where I’m going and what time I left, so if something happens to me, he’ll know where the clue trail starts. Then I check the cameras via my phone one more time. After what happened, I had four more cameras installed, and had the infrared capabilities for all the cameras turned on. It costs me an additional $400 per month, but for right now, it’s worth it. No one’s in the enclosure.
He could jump the fence again.
Who does that?
I’ve been wanting to ask Barrett—is jumping a tall fence some special secret agent skill, or might my attacker be a “normal” guy?—but I just hate to bring it up at all. Maybe I don’t want to know.
Correction: I don’t want to know. I never considered myself someone who would hide like this, but that’s what I’ve been doing. Hiding at Barrett’s house. Hiding like a child.
My mom and Rett have both offered to come and stay with me, as has Jamie. Even Nic offered to spend the night, or hire additional security if I needed it, which I thought was really sweet. I haven’t wanted that, though. I just want to be with Bear, but even that is strained because I’m such a zombie: paralyzed by fear.
Barrett knows it. I can feel his tension, too.
I say a quick prayer before I step onto the porch, and then stuff my fists into my jacket pockets and start into the woods between our houses.
Who could it be?
Who?
I want to know. I want to know so badly. God, it’s driving me insane. Who did that to me? What did they want to talk about?
The police have called a few times, letting us know they’ve been patrolling the area and also that they don’t have any leads. They seem to think my attacker was someone interested in the bears. Maybe someone who wanted to take and sell one, or some enviro freak who thinks keeping even injured bears in captivity is somehow wrong.
Detective Anderson, the guy we’ve seen the most of, says the public meetings about the property zoning probably drew a lot of new eyes to my little operation here at Bear Hugs—and I know that’s true, because I’ve seen an uptick in donations through the web site.
I sigh, and then cast my gaze around the woods. The wind is light today,