Vacant Little Thing.
That’s what I became to survive my abusive marriage. Empty. Compliant. Subservient. I escaped once. Sent my ex to prison, got the divorce, rebuilt my life, and my relationship with my daughters.
Then he got out of prison and found me. I took him back. Happily. At least, that’s what I told my daughters.
They think I’ve lost my mind, choosing to return to a toxic relationship. They don’t know I’m trapped again, protecting them the only way I know how. By staying silent. By disappearing into myself.
By abandoning all hope of ever escaping again. Until him.
Actually… until them: a grumpy smokejumper with burning blue eyes that see through every convenient lie I tell, a retired Mountie who quietly gets to fixing anything that’s broken—even if it’s me, and an erudite teacher who makes me remember all the things I wanted for myself before my ex came along.
I’m fifty-six years old, but maybe it’s not too late for a Beary Fresh Start after all.
Welcome to Bear Mountain, where the males mate in threes, aren’t afraid to call you “good girl” even though you’re a fully grown woman, and will die before they let anything—or anyone—ever hurt you again.
