Chapter 4 Riley
Riley
For a second, lying on Edith's couch with morning light streaming through the windows, I almost forgot where I was.
Then it all came rushing back. Holly. The way she'd come apart in my arms against that wall. The way she'd looked at me after—like I was something worth having instead of something broken.
I sat up, running a hand through my hair. The fire had burned down to embers, but the cabin was warm. Through the kitchen doorway, I could see Holly moving around in one of my flannel shirts, her auburn hair catching the light.
She looked like she belonged here. Like she'd always been here, making breakfast and humming under her breath.
"Morning," she said when she noticed me watching. "Sleep okay?"
"Fine." I stood, stretching muscles that protested the couch. "Storm's over."
"I noticed." Her smile was soft, tentative. Like she wasn't sure where we stood after last night. "I made coffee."
I walked into the kitchen, noticing every step that brought me closer. She handed me a mug, and when our fingers brushed, I felt that same electric shock.
"Thanks."
"I was thinking about the display," she said, not quite meeting my eyes. "About what you said, honoring the soldiers she wrote to."
Right. The competition. The reason she was here.
"What about it?"
"I want to do something different. Something that shows what her letters meant to people like you." She looked up at me then, green eyes serious. "Will you help me plan it?"
I should say no. Should find an excuse to put distance between us before this got more complicated. But the hope in her voice...
"Yeah," I heard myself say. "I'll help."
Her smile could have powered the mountain.
We spent the morning going through Edith's notebooks, sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and pancakes Holly had miraculously not burned on the wood stove. Every few minutes our knees would bump, or she'd lean over to point something out and I'd catch that vanilla scent.
It was domestic as hell.
"Look at this," Holly said, pointing to one of Edith's sketches. "She was planning something she never finished. A memorial display."
I looked at the drawing. Stars made of lights, arranged in a familiar pattern. "That's the Southern Knapp."
"You recognize it?"
"She used to write about it. How she'd go outside at night and look for constellations, think about us looking at the same stars." My throat felt tight. "She said it made the distance feel smaller."
Holly's hand covered mine on the table. "That's beautiful."
"She was like that. Found good in everything, even when she got the letter about Martinez and Thompson. She wrote to me in the hospital, told me it wasn't my fault they died."
Holly's fingers tightened on mine. "She was right."
I looked down at our joined hands. "Some days I'm not sure."
"I am." Her voice was fierce. "You're here for a reason, Riley."
Before I could respond, she was leaning closer, her free hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Maybe the reason is sitting right here."
I should have pulled away. Should have reminded her about the competition. Instead, I found myself leaning into her touch.
"Holly..."
"I know we said we'd focus on the competition first. But I can't stop thinking about last night."
Neither could I. I'd lain awake for hours, replaying every second. The way she'd felt in my arms, the little sounds she'd made, the way she'd looked at me like I was her whole world.
"This is dangerous," I said, but I didn't move away.
"I don't care."
Her hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. She was so close I could feel her breath against my lips.
A sharp crack outside made us both jump.
"What was that?" Holly asked.
I was already moving toward the window. In the yard, one of her light displays was lying in pieces, bulbs scattered across the snow.
"Son of a bitch."
"What is it?"
"Your lights. Someone destroyed them."
Holly rushed to the window, face going pale. "But who would... why would anyone..."
I was already grabbing my coat. "Stay here."
"Like hell. That's my display."
I turned to face her, and she must have seen something in my expression because she stepped back.
"Holly. Stay. Here."
For once, she didn't argue.
Outside, the damage was worse than it looked from the window. Not just broken—deliberately destroyed. Someone had taken a hammer to the wooden frame, smashed the bulbs.
I walked the perimeter, looking for tracks. The snow was churned up, but I could make out boot prints leading from the road and back again.
"Find anything?"
I spun around to find Holly behind me, arms wrapped against the cold.
"I told you to stay inside."
"And I told you that was my display." Her jaw was set in that stubborn line. "What did you find?"
I pointed to the tracks. "Someone came up from the road. Knew exactly what they were doing."
"Who would do this?"
I had a good idea, but I didn't want to worry her. "Could be anyone. Competition's serious around here."
Holly knelt next to the broken frame, picking up pieces of colored glass. Her hands were shaking.
"I can fix this," she said quietly.
"Course you can." I crouched beside her, my hand covering hers. "We can fix it."
She looked up at me, tears threatening. "What if they come back?"
The thought of someone making her cry sent rage coursing through me. Pure, clean fury.
"They won't."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I'm going to make sure they don't."
Something in my voice convinced her because she nodded, wiping her eyes.
"So what do we do now?"
"Now we build something so good it doesn't matter what anyone else does."
We spent the next hour cleaning up debris, salvaging what we could. Most of the lights were destroyed, but the extension cords were intact. By the time we got back inside, Holly's hands were red with cold.
I pulled her over to the fireplace, taking her hands in mine to warm them.
"Better?"
"Yeah." But she was still shivering.
Without thinking, I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her. She came willingly, pressing against my chest with a sigh.
"Thank you," she said, voice muffled against my shirt.
"For what?"
"For saying 'we.' For not making me face this alone."
I tightened my arms around her. "You're not alone."
She pulled back to look at me, eyes serious. "Promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise you won't go after whoever did this. I know that look, Riley."
She was right. I did want to find them. I wanted to have a very pointed conversation about what happened to people who messed with things that mattered to me.
When had Holly started mattering to me?
"Riley."
"I won't go looking for trouble," I said carefully.
"That's not the same as promising."
"No, it's not."
She studied my face, then sighed. "At least promise you'll be careful."
"Always am."
"Liar." But she was smiling now. "You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you're looking for an excuse to distract yourself." Her hands slid up my chest. "Lucky for you, I'm feeling very distracting right now."
Heat shot through me. "Holly..."
"The competition can wait an hour." She rose up on her toes, lips brushing my ear. "I want you again, Riley. Right now."
I lifted her onto the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs as she wrapped them around my waist. I pulled the shirt over her head, my breath catching at the sight of her. "Beautiful," I murmured, pressing kisses along her collarbone. "So damn beautiful."
Her hands were working at my belt, desperate and urgent. "Too many clothes," she breathed.
I helped her with my jeans, pushing them down just enough. When I touched her, she was already wet and ready.
"Please," she whispered.
I entered her slowly, watching her face as she adjusted to me. Her eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Look at me," I said roughly.
Her eyes opened, locking with mine as I began to move. This was different from last night—less desperate, more intimate. I could see everything she was feeling, every wave of pleasure that crossed her face.
"Riley," she breathed, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"I know. I've got you."
I reached between us, touching her where we were joined, and she cried out, her body tightening around me. The sensation was overwhelming, perfect, and I followed her over the edge with her name on my lips.
We stayed like that for long moments, both breathing hard.
"We should probably get dressed," Holly said finally, but she made no move to let go.
"Probably." I pressed a kiss to her temple. "In a minute."
A truck pulling into the driveway interrupted us. We both looked toward the window.
"Shit," I muttered, recognizing the beat-up pickup.
"Who is it?"
"Rick Sweeney. Local contractor." And my prime suspect for this morning's vandalism.
We dressed quickly, and I answered the door with Holly behind me. Rick stood on the porch, hat in hands, looking appropriately sheepish.
"Riley. Heard there was trouble up here."
"News travels fast."
"Small town." His eyes shifted to Holly. "You must be Edith's granddaughter. Rick Sweeney. Sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," Holly said politely.
"Terrible thing, what happened to your display. Thought maybe we could help fix it."
I studied his face, looking for guilt. If Rick had destroyed Holly's lights, he was playing this perfectly.
"That's kind of you," Holly said. "But we've got it handled."
"You sure? Lot of work for two people."
"We're sure," I said, voice carrying enough edge that Rick stepped back.
"Well, if you change your mind..." He settled his hat back on. "Good luck with the competition. May the best display win."
After he left, Holly and I stood watching the truck disappear.
"Think it was him?" Holly asked.
"Probably."
"But you can't prove it."
"No. But that doesn't matter."
"What does that mean?"
I walked back to the couch, to Edith's notebooks. "Means we build something so perfect that it doesn't matter what anyone else does."
Holly followed, settling close enough that our thighs touched. "What did you have in mind?"
I opened the notebook to Edith's constellation sketch. "We honor the fallen. All of them. Stars arranged like the night sky over Afghanistan."
"That's beautiful. But do we have enough lights?"
"We'll make it work. Buy more if we have to." I closed the notebook. "Rick wants to play games? Fine. But he picked the wrong people to mess with."
Holly's hand found mine. "You really think we can do this?"
"I know we can." I turned my hand palm up, lacing our fingers together. "Question is, are you ready to work?"
"I've been ready since I got here."
"Good. Because we're going to be spending a lot of time together."
"Let's build the most beautiful memorial this mountain has ever seen." She smiled, bright and fierce. "And then let's see what happens next."
Looking at her, I felt something I hadn't felt in four years. Hope.
"Okay," I said. "Let's do it."
And when I kissed her again, it was with the promise of everything we could build together.