Gray Back Broken Bear (Gray Back Bears Book 4) by T. S. Joyce

her gift in his hand now, he could’ve convinced himself she hadn’t existed at all.

Chapter Eight
     
    Maybe this was what a panic attack felt like. Aviana gripped the wheel and tried to stop panting. Keep it up, and she was going to pass out.
    Shit, she couldn’t do this.
    She thought of Easton’s kiss last night and shook her head to rattle out the weak thoughts. Yes, she could, because Easton had been gentle with her. He wasn’t all weapons and darkness. He was good in his middle, just like he always had been.
    Last night, she’d seen the spark of the boy she’d fallen in love with.
    Easton was hers.
    By the time she pulled under the Grayland Mobile Park sign, however, she was back to full-blown panic-mode. Today, she was going to put herself out there further than she ever had in her entire life. She was going to declare what she needed to make her life into the one she wanted.
    Unfortunately, that life had somehow grown to include a crew of bear shifters—her biggest natural fear. From early childhood, she’d been told how volatile and murderous the apex predator shifters were. They weren’t like her people, who were scavenger shifters, politely preying on already deceased things. Bears killed what they wanted and didn’t give second thoughts to carcasses.
    Great risk brought the possibility of great reward, though, and Easton was worth it. He really was. Deep breath. Chest out, back straight. Smile. Bigger. Let’s do this.
    The Gray Backs sat around a communal fire pit in front of a semi-circle of trailers. They wore light jackets to ward off the cool March night and sat in brightly-colored plastic chairs. Easton wasn’t here. Well, good. This would be easier without him watching because she wasn’t here to see Easton right now. She was here to talk to his alpha, Creed.
    The Gray Backs had gone quiet by the time she stumbled out of her car. “Hi!” she said, much more high pitched than she’d intended as she flapped her hand in a wave.
    “Ha! Pay up, Griz,” Willa said, pointing to Matt.
    Matt rolled his eyes and handed Willa a wadded up five dollar bill from his pocket.
    Okaay.
    A yipping attack dog the size of a soccer ball charged Aviana and bounced around her feet, barking. It was brown and white, and someone has shaved a mohawk down the entire length of his back and head. She would’ve been more intimidated if he didn’t lick her ankles between barks.
    “Peanut Butter Spike. Get down!” Gia commanded.
    Aviana stepped gingerly around the yapper and opened the back door, then struggled under the weight of a massive box of beer cans. She hefted it toward the Gray Backs, breathing heavily as she stumbled forward, trying not to step on the tiny dog circling her feet. She set the gift on the ledge of the brick fire pit. “I did research on lumberjacks, and the Internet said you were hairy, wore flannel, belched a lot, and drank lots of beer.”
    Willa grabbed her stomach and cackled. “What site were you looking on?”
    “The first one that came up on the results.” Good God, she wished she could lift her gaze from the ground right now. “Anyway, I brought you this.” She pushed the box forward, but it only moved by an inch. Silly, weak bird arms. Peanut Butter Spike probably could’ve moved it more.
    “I like her,” Jason said, ripping into the side and pulling a blue can out.
    “How did you find out where we live?” Creed asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
    “Oh. Uuuh, it said it on Jason’s social media pages.” Had it? She couldn’t remember. She’d known they lived here because she flew over it every day, but they didn’t need to know that she was a quiet observer to their lives.
    “Dude,” Matt said, leveling Jason with a glare.
    “Like you can talk! You were the king of oversharing before you deleted all your pages. Piss off, man. It’s not like I ever thought anyone would be able to actually find the trailer park. We’re out in the wilderness. I assumed GPS would