BEAR

In my many fantasies about the first time Natasha and I would share a bed overnight, I never imagined it taking place at the Thibeaux Mansion. Or that the kids would be right next to us.

I feel under a microscope. The staff is always close. I sense every room is wired. I can't even piss without worrying someone's judging me. Yet, I willingly give up my privacy to be close to Natasha and the kids.

During our first few hours home, the nanny entertains Hector and Jacinda as much as possible in the massive bedroom. The restless kids don't want to leave Natasha, yet she keeps dozing off.

Though I consider getting on the floor with them, my body has finally admitted those "harmless flesh wounds" hurt. I sit in a chair and suffer until the nurse asks if I need pain medication. I tell her no, offended by her thinking I'm incapable of suffering in silence.

Natasha watches me from the bed. She doesn't say a single word, but I hear her voice in my head. She's telling me how the mansion is the safest place in the state today. I can let my guard down and rest. She also reminds me how we're getting married in less than a week. If I want to heal, now is the time.

After Natasha's unspoken lecture, I ask the nurse for pain pills. She doesn't go get the doctor first. Unlike at the hospital, with its rules and routines, the mansion's staff has only one master.

That man arrives to check on Natasha twice during her first day home. Viktor shows up with Katja an hour after we arrive. He only gives me a head nod, revealing no warmth. I do notice how he smiles for his daughter who gets upset when she asks about Petra.

"She's healing in her bedroom," Katja explains. "You'll see her tomorrow. For now, just rest."

I appreciate them speaking in English for my benefit. They ditch that habit when they return after dinner. Viktor sits at the end of the bed and speaks quietly to Natasha and the kids who stare at him transfixed. I feel like he's telling them a bedtime story. Whatever he says steals much of Natasha's dread.

All day, she alternates between sleepy and panicked. She starts screaming twice before seeing me and offering a goofy smile. I worry her brain got messed up in the accident, but the medicine is probably just making her weird.

Natasha is out of it most of the day. She forgets my name several times. She refers to Jacinda as Jackie more than once. She randomly shortens Hector's name to Tor. I tell the kids how she's sick, so we need to be patient. Natasha smiles whenever I say that, but I can tell she doesn't understand.

We never leave the bedroom during the first day. Meals are delivered. The nurse lingers until around eight when the next shift nurse arrives.

In the afternoon, I receive a suitcase of clothes and hygiene products. Pork Chop and Carys apparently went to my place to take care of the cats and rummage through my shit. I'm irritated about that last part, but I like the picture they took of the boys sitting on my bed watching the weirdoes search my underwear drawer.

Natasha's wealth smacks me in the face during that first night. The bathroom is huge and slick as fuck. The clothes in her closet are organized by color. No way did Natasha do that herself.

The tackboard feels like her, though. Pictures of her best friends and family. There are photos of several people she acted as a benefactor to like Ollie. I even spot a few pictures of me. With the board, my woman's heart is on display. All she's missing are photos of the kids. I make a mental note to put a tackboard like this up in our house.

Eventually, after Hector and Jacinda are tucked in their beds, I settle on Natasha's mattress and enjoy the feel of her warm body. The kids keep standing in their beds to check if their mommy left.

I smile at them when their faces appear. Sometimes, they look worried. Other times, they see me and growl like bears. Eventually, they fall asleep, and the room is quiet long enough for me to rest.

Natasha wakes up near dawn, crying and in pain. The nurse swoops in and increases her meds. The kids and I can only watch and worry. Hector crawls into our bed and sleeps between us. Jacinda stays in her bed for another hour before deciding she's getting screwed with this arrangement.

Once they're cuddled between a sleeping Natasha and me, I talk to the kids about dumb stuff. Mostly, I try to convince them how they're O'Malleys now, not Grovers.

"I am Muppet," Hector insists. "You are bear."

I ought to drop the topic. They're three and dealing with trauma right now. But I just don't like them viewing themselves as those weird-looking dolls on the show.

"You are a little boy and a little girl. You don't look anything like Grover."

"You are a bear. Is this Bear's fur?" Jacinda asks and rubs my arm.

The stubborn little shits refuse to back down. They giggle at my frustration, finding me harmless. Once I give up, they sit in bed and run their fingers over my tattoos.

"Scary," Hector says as he sees the skulls.

"But beautiful," Natasha adds, startling me with her voice.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I had a bad accident," she replies rather than offer details. "I think I'll take a shower and join the family for breakfast."

"Do we have to?" I ask, grumpy from the lack of sleep and being in this extravagant fucking place.

"The kids can't spend all day in this room."

I glance over my shoulder at Jacinda and Hector who sit behind me and check out my back tattoos.

After her nurse-supervised shower, Natasha is wheeled to breakfast. She can barely keep her head up or eyes open, but she wants to get out of the room. The kids ride on her lap, whispering to each other before looking up at me.

I feel like we're a team. The three of us are new to this life with the Kovak family. They grew up poor while I've spent years being disagreeable. Now, we have to endure the decadence and submission expected in this mansion.

Katja looks worried when she sees Natasha. The kids explain how their mom had an accident.

"Mommy fell down," Jacinda tells Maks who sits at the table.

Her uncle never looks away from his phone when he mutters, "You don't know the half of it, kid."

Soon, we eat breakfast. Natasha is served oatmeal. The kids are offered mini pancakes with faces made out of whipped cream. I notice how much Natasha perks up when she sees their plates. Her gaze flashes to her parents, thanking them in that shiny way she has when truly happy.

I'm served the same breakfast I had last Sunday at Farmer's Table. I don't know whether their staff contacted my people to ask what I like or if they just regularly spy on the club during our meals together. Either way, I enjoy a hearty breakfast.

Natasha becomes more alert during the meal. She doesn't eat much, but I catch her smiling at the kids. Katja asks her something in Czech. I think they're speaking about Petra. Natasha gets teary-eyed and nods.

After breakfast, we visit Petra's room. The sisters start crying as soon as they see each other. They speak in hushed voices in Czech, likely reliving the trauma of nearly drowning in Jefferson River.

I'm glad I can't understand what they're saying. Natasha's fear is palpable enough without all the details.

As Natasha climbs in bed with her sister, I focus on Jacinda and Hector with Laszlo. The kid's scrawny and seems pale. He looks at me really intense-like after he hears about my skull "cartoons."

I'm glad the sickly kid will never really know his father. I often wish my parents had died before I was old enough to realize they were assholes. I could walk through life thinking I missed out by not having them in my life. Instead, I'm fully aware my bloodline sucks.

I'm unsure how well Laszlo will do with the Kovak family, but it can't be worse than living with a man willing to send his mom to a watery grave.

Natasha is exhausted by the time we get back to her bedroom. Meanwhile, the kids are hyper as fuck. Natasha asks the nanny to take them to play for a few hours while she rests. Once the kids bounce out of the room, Natasha requests the nurse sit in the hallway for a while.

"I can't rest with all these people here," she says in a weak voice. "I'm sick, and no one will let me sleep."

The nurse leaves without complaint. I wait to see if Natasha will send me away next. Instead, she throws back the blanket and smiles at me.

"I need to be sexually ravished, Mister O'Malley."

Yanking off my clothes except my boxers, I slide under the covers and against her body. Natasha cuddles closer.

"I'm too weak to do anything. Feel free to wear yourself out," she teases as her lips nuzzle my throat.

"We're not really going to fuck, are we?"

"Aren't you in the mood?"

"My body hurts, and my dick is drugged up. Can't we spoon or some other chick activity? Maybe we can talk about fashion and cute boys."

Natasha snickers against my lips. "You're probably right about how our bodies won't cooperate. I still need to be alone with you for a while."

With no hurry to get naked or expectation of orgasms, Natasha and I make out old school-style.

"Don't give me a hickey," Natasha moans when I suck at her throat. "I need to look flawless for my wedding."

At first, I think she's serious. Then, I realize she can't hide all her cuts and bruises with makeup. Taking advantage of her battered body, I leave a big hickey on her throat near her earlobe.

Natasha and I eventually wear ourselves out and just look at each other. I feel us coming to terms with what happened. I believed I had lost her. Even after she was in the hospital, I kept waiting to learn she was dead.

Right now, though, I truly feel how Natasha Kovak isn't only alive but will be my wife in a few days.