Husband Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire #1)(51)

Back in the cabin, Ian rummaged around the kitchen while she gathered dirty clothes. Hers were spread out here and there as was her habit—some in the corner, some over the chair in their bedroom, some on the end of the bed, and a small pile in the bathroom. Ian was cleaner by nature than her. How much of that was animal instinct, she couldn’t tell.

The soap was bubbling up nicely in the tub, but the water was slow as molasses today, so she dumped the clothes in and left the spout running as she strode across the living room into the guest bedroom, humming to herself. At the kitchen table, Ian was tucking into leftover hamburger pie smothered in cheese. The aroma was a delicious temptation, and while the laundry soaked in the tub, she was going to eat a piece with him.

Ian hadn’t slept in the guest room in weeks, but this was where he kept his belongings, piled neatly on and around the rocking chair in the corner. And beside an empty trash bag he’d used as luggage was a small mountain of wadded up clothes. She dug through the pockets of his pants, grinning at the empty bullet casings and small tools she found, and when she came to a back pocket with a folded piece of white paper, she rushed and put it with the small pile of treasures she was building on the dresser. It was the writing on the other side that caught her attention, though. It read Elyse.

She froze, and the pair of jeans she was rifling through fell from her hands onto the floor near her boots. That wasn’t Ian’s handwriting.

Dread filled her as she frowned at the familiar scrawl. Small letters and all capitalized, and she’d only seen one man write like this. Cole.

Slowly, she pulled the folded paper from the dresser and stared at her printed name. The paper crinkled as she opened it, fold by fold, then held it up in the window light so she could better see the small lettering.



Elyse,

If you are reading this, well, then I’m already gone. This is my seventh attempt at writing this damned note. It’s hard to explain myself or to tell you how sorry I am without giving too much of my life away. My secrets are better off buried with me. I disappointed you, and me. I should’ve never raised a hand to you, but my mistakes started long before that, and you and I both know you held onto me longer than you should have. You’re good, Elyse. The best woman I’ve ever met, and I strapped you with my shit. It wasn’t fair. There was never a chance for me to be okay or to be a good match for you. It has become really f*cking obvious as I sit here in this cabin thinking on all the bad I’ve done to you that I never had a chance of making you happy. I can’t even remember you smiling when we were together. Only crying.

It’s the end of my life, and that’s okay with me. Don’t mistake this for a plea for understanding. I’ve done horrible things. More than you even know, and I deserve the end that’s coming.

I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For all of it.

Cole



Elyse gasped quietly against her tightening throat and put her hand over her mouth as twin tears streamed down her face. Why the f*ck did Ian have this note?

Miller’s voice whispered through her mind. He died of a bear attack.

Blinking hard to clear her vision, she looked out the bedroom door. From here, she could see Ian’s legs under the kitchen table as he ate, but nothing more. In a daze, she shuffled from the room and held up the note.

Ian glanced up, and the greeting smile fell from his face as he stared at the piece of paper she clutched in her hand. “I can explain.”

“Did you kill him?”

Ian stood slowly and held out his hands. “It wasn’t like how you’re thinking, Elyse.”

“Did you kill him?” she screamed. “I don’t give a f*ck about anything else except ‘yes’ or ‘no’ right now Ian.” She swallowed a sob and whispered, “He died of a bear attack. That’s what his brother told me. Was it your bear that did it?”

Ian angled his face away, but his bright blue eyes never left her. He swallowed hard and nodded once.

“Say it out loud.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

The word rocked her back on her heels. Yes? Ian had killed her ex-boyfriend, and now he was here, eating at her table. She felt sick as she stepped backward. Her shoulders hit the wall as she shook with sobbing.

“Elyse, I was going to tell you everything—”

“When, Ian? When were you going to tell me you murdered him?”

“It wasn’t murder.” Ian paced behind the table and gave her a warning look. “He knew I was coming for him.”

“You killed him, Ian!”

“Because I had to!”

She let off a furious shriek and bolted for the key hook. She yanked the jangling keychain from it and startled when Ian gripped her upper arm. He was too fast. Faster than he’d ever let her see. “Get your f*cking hands off me!”

“Elyse, don’t go like this. Just let me tell you what happened.”

“I need space. If you care for me at all, you’ll give it to me.”

Ian was shaking his head, eyes wide and churning, chest heaving.

“Please, let me go.” She shrugged out of his loosening grasp and bolted out the front door.

Ian watched her drive away from the front porch. His hands were linked behind his head, and his face…she’d never seen such despair in a man’s eyes.

She ripped her gaze away from him to spare herself more pain. He’d brought this on himself.