Sawman Werebear (Saw Bears #4) by T. S. Joyce Page B

disappeared into the darkness.
    A sob wrenched from her throat as she tried to sort through what had just happened. She’d exposed her deepest secret, the one Momma had found out and shamed her with. Now, she was a whore in Momma’s eyes, giving away her virginity to a man who didn’t even want her. Who didn’t even call her. And on top of that, she’d caused Brighton pain just by the admission of her mistakes.
    And now Connor was dead, and she didn’t know how to feel.
    Was she supposed to feel better when someone she’d once cared for was gone?
    Relieved that she’d never see him around town again?
    Glad the man who’d hurt her had received swift justice?
    Right now, all she could think about was Brighton and how disappointed he’d been that she’d slept with Connor.
    Her body went rigid, and this time, no one was here to cradle her head in their lap or look at her with worry in their eyes.
    No one was here to care as her lungs burned and her limbs went stiff.
    This time, Everly died alone.

Chapter Seven
    Clearly, Brighton was in over his head. He’d messed up in epic proportions last night and had come back from yet another uncontrolled Change to find Everly out cold just where he’d left her. Worse than that, she’d hit her head on the way down and split the back of her scalp wide open. Seeing her there in the dirt, alone…well, that just about caused another Change.
    He had to get this shit under control. He was no good to her the way he was now.
    Brighton paced the yard, clutching the note he’d written in his clenched grasp. This place had been a sanctuary—a secret hideout that none of the Ashe Crew, not even Denison, knew about. And now he was going to expose his hidey hole, and for what? A woman.
    He shook his head to ward off the angry thoughts. This wasn’t Everly’s fault. It was Connor’s fault. Brighton wished he could kill that sonofabitch all over again.
    The sound of a truck picking its way up the gravel road froze him in his tracks. The urge to jog out and meet Tagan and Denison, to tell them to hurry the hell up, was overwhelming, but it clashed with his instincts to stay near Everly.
    She hadn’t woken up yet.
    He’d spent the night thinking of how to draw her bear from her, but if she didn’t wake up, he couldn’t do anything.
    His boots scuffed loose gravel as he began pacing again. The roiling clouds above told of an oncoming storm that fit his mood. Needing to see her face again, he rushed back inside and knelt by the bed. He’d cleaned her cut and tucked her in, but she hadn’t moved in all these hours. Sure, her chest rose and fell steadily, but he’d tried to rouse her twice to no success. God, he wished he could take this burden from her. He was used to pain, but Everly wasn’t strong enough for this. Not yet.
    He brushed away a lock of chestnut hair that had fallen across her face. In the muted gray sunlight that drifted through the window, she had all shades of brown highlights in her hair. How had he not noticed that before? Her long, dark lashes brushed her cheeks, and a spray of faint freckles stretched across her tiny nose. Her lips were pursed, as if she were in pain, even in her sleep. And that rattle in her throat… It wasn’t soft snoring—it was growling. Her bear was buried within her, but not deep enough to hide the unrest her animal was feeling.
    He was safe to press his lips against her forehead here in the dim room with her sleeping soundly, so he did. He didn’t regret it either. Watching over her all night had done something to him. Now, she pulled at his heart, and he hurt with worry that she wouldn’t survive this after everything he’d promised.
    The sound of Tagan’s truck outside drew his attention to the window. He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, just to reassure himself she was still warm and alive, then stood and strode out of his cabin.
    “Holy shit,” Denison drawled as he stepped from the passenger’s side of Tagan’s