Chapter 15 - Rylie
Rylie
The cabin felt different after the call.
Not safer—danger still pressed at the edges—but warmer somehow. Like the news of a baby being born had slipped light into the cracks fear had carved. Proof that life didn’t stop just because something bad waited nearby.
Trigger busied himself at the small kitchenette, heating water on the stove. He moved with the same calm precision he always did—measured, controlled, like every motion had been thought through before it ever happened.
But I was watching him differently now.
Not as the man protecting me.
As the man I trusted.
And the realization settled slowly, heavily, like truth finally finding its place.
What I felt for him wasn’t confusion.
It wasn’t fear or gratitude tangled up with adrenaline.
It came from somewhere deeper than that—somewhere that had been awake long before I was stupid enough to date Thomas. Stupid enough to get caught up in his trap.
It came from the way Trigger had always watched me like my safety mattered more than his pride.
From the way he’d never crossed a line, even when it would have been easy.
From the way he’d brought me here instead of asking me to be brave in town.
I stood near the window, the mug he’d handed me warming my hands, and finally said the thing that had been sitting in my chest for over a year.
“Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”
Trigger froze.
Not visibly—not the way someone startled would—but the stillness was absolute. Like every muscle in his body had gone on pause at once.
The kettle hissed softly behind him.
He didn’t turn around. “That’s a hell of a question.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
I took a breath. “I’ve wondered for a long time. I used to think you liked me that way.”
He shut the burner off, set the kettle aside, and leaned both hands on the counter like he needed the support. When he finally turned, his expression was guarded—but not closed.
Just careful.
“When I got back to Eagle River, you were engaged,” he said.
“I was engaged to that jerk for two weeks, and only because he threatened me.”
His jaw tightened. “You were the sheriff’s daughter.”
“That never stopped you from talking to me or flirting with me.”
“No,” he agreed quietly. “It didn’t.”
“Then why?” I asked.
I didn’t push. I didn’t accuse.
I just stood there and waited.
Eli “Trigger” Jennings studied me for a long moment, like he was weighing whether honesty would cost more than silence. The fire popped behind us, filling the space between heartbeats.
Finally, he said, “Because if I’d asked you out, I wouldn’t have done it halfway.”
My breath caught.
“And I didn’t trust myself to stop once I started.”
The words landed hard. Honest. Bare.
“You think I didn’t notice you?” he continued, his voice low. “Didn’t see the way you tried to make yourself smaller so you wouldn’t rock the boat? The way you smiled when you were uncomfortable because it was easier than explaining?”
My throat tightened.
“You deserved someone who could stand in the light with you,” he said. “Someone uncomplicated. Someone who wouldn’t disappear for days or weeks. Someone your dad wouldn’t worry about.”
“And you decided that wasn’t you,” I whispered.
He nodded once. “I don’t bring easy with me.”
I stepped closer without realizing I’d moved.
“What if easy isn’t what I wanted?” I asked.
Trigger’s eyes darkened. Not with heat.
With restraint.
“You know I never loved Thomas. I would never have gone on a second date with him, because I didn’t like him. I would never have gone through with marrying him. No matter what I had to do.”
He didn’t interrupt.
“But with you…” I swallowed. “I feel seen even when you’re not saying anything. Even when you’re standing ten feet away like you’re afraid to take up space.”
Silence stretched between us, taut and fragile.
“I told myself I was confused,” I admitted. “That it was stress. Fear. Relief.”
I shook my head. “But it isn’t. It never was.”
Trigger exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath for years.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said gently.
“I do.”
I stopped directly in front of him now. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body. Close enough that stepping away would be a decision instead of instinct.
“I feel this,” I said, pressing my hand lightly against my chest. “Here. It’s not loud. It doesn’t rush me. It doesn’t make me feel small.”
My voice trembled. “It makes me feel like I can breathe.”
Trigger’s hand lifted halfway—then stopped, hovering like he was afraid to touch me without permission.
“Rylie…” His voice was rough. “I don’t take lightly what you’re offering.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m offering it.”
His eyes searched mine, looking for doubt. For fear. For something that would let him retreat.
He didn’t find it.
Slowly—so slowly it felt like time itself leaned in—his hand settled at my waist. Not pulling. Not claiming.
Just grounding.
The contact sent a shiver through me, but I didn’t move away.
“You should know,” he said quietly, “if I’d asked you out… it wouldn’t have been coffee.”
I smiled faintly. “What would it have been?”
“A promise,” he replied. “And I didn’t think I had the right to give you one.”
I rested my hand over his wrist. “Maybe you still do.”
We stood there like that—no kiss, no rush—just the truth laid bare between us.
And for the first time in a long while…
I wasn’t afraid of what I felt.
I was certain. I stepped closer and stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. That’s all it took. Trigger pulled me into him as close as I could get and took over the kissing.