Bear Moon by Hattie Hunt

Author:Hattie Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9973818-7-0
Publisher: S.M. Blooding

Chapter Seventeen

Anger and disappointment flared together in Ripley’s chest. So much for taking a breather. “What do you want, Sean?”

He looked at her from around Joe’s back, one eyebrow raised. “Now, is that any way to say hi to your brother?”

Actually? Yes. “What do you want, Sean?” she repeated, her tone low.

“Aw, come on now. Don’t be like that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Toot sighed and reached under the bar for a bottle of vodka. “Show me the green first.”

Sean licked his lips derisively and set his glass down, with the whiskey still in it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a couple of bills.

Toot took them, separated out what he needed, and gave Sean back the rest. “You got what you want. Now get.”

Sean settled onto the barstool beside Joe. “So, what did ol’ Jib leave you? The house? The bar?”

“The bar,” she said through tight lips.

Joe leaned forward, anger ripping across his face, his bear rising to the surface minutely.

Which was safe here because this was a paranormals only bar. Ripley had to admit, she was glad for the support.

Sean ignored Joe entirely.

“You know what he left me with?” Sean asked mournfully, leaning back around Joe again.

Ripley was surprised he managed to stay on the stool.

Joe shot back his glass of whiskey and glared.

Toot flared his hand in a calm-yourself-the-fuck-down gesture, his expression remaining cool as only a bartender could maintain.

“My tab.” Sean chuckled dryly. “Can you believe that?”

Ripley gave him a grim smile and nodded once. “Well, just pay up and we can be done with one another.”

“You’re not going to help your brother out?”

“The same way he helped his little sister?” she asked with false cheer.

“I’d just lost both my parents, Rip.”

“So, had I.”

“And I was being strapped down with you, taking care of my bratty baby sister.”

“Poor you.”

“The best thing I could have done was leave you.”

Ripley snorted, but she was curious to hear what he had to say. Though, why? That, she couldn’t quite fathom.

“You found Tuck. Strange combo, that, but it works. He took care of you when you went all weird.”

Went all weird. That was one way to put it. Ripley stilled.

“Still don’t make sense that it didn’t pick me,” Sean muttered under his breath, pulling the vodka bottle closer to him.

Something clicked. He didn’t know. Ripley had always assumed he’d find out somehow. Seeing now how much he’d wanted the padfoot stirred a bitter pool of satisfaction in her stomach. She should tell him. Twist the knife. Remind him how he had failed.

The padfoot stirred, raising its head in curiosity.

Ripley had always treated it—him—her—she didn’t even know—like it was the enemy. Now, she was curious. She reached for it and asked in her mind, Should we tell him?

Silence.

Ripley shouldn’t have been surprised. Tuck’s theory was an interesting one, about how any living thing would want to have a little freedom, that caging the padfoot might not be a great idea. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Did she really think

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