Chapter Five – Elliott
He had only meant to stop by the restaurant to say hello, eat something, and go home to crash.
That had been the plan.
He had been traveling for what felt like forever, sleeping badly, living out of bags, eating when he could, grabbing rest where it happened to appear. He should have been too tired to care about anything except his own bed and the peace and quiet of his mountain home.
Then Rachel had walked in.
After that, going home had become impossible.
He had found plenty to do. In some ways, it had been a comfort to slip back into family life. When he had first stepped into the restaurant, he had felt out of touch, out of sync, but over the course of the shift, it had begun to feel as if he had never been away.
Still, in the end, he had made himself leave while Rachel was still there.
Not because he wanted to.
Leaving her had been one of the hardest things he had done all day.
But because he knew she needed the space. Not because he had crowded her or pushed too hard, but simply because being near him unsettled her, and he could see how hard she was working to keep herself steady.
But she’s part of our life, his bear had complained as he stepped out into the cooling evening air. She needs to know we’re here.
She will, Elliott had said, starting up the road out of town. But not today. Maybe not tomorrow either. First, I need to know how much she understands. Just because she can feel what’s between us doesn’t mean she knows what it is.
His bear had grumbled at that, but not for long.
So Elliott had taken the trail home through the pines, following a route he knew as well as the back of his hand.
He needed that. The familiarity. The quiet. The rhythm of walking one foot in front of the other as the evening settled around him.
Because right then, despite how badly he needed sleep, he did not think his mind would stop circling back over the day. Every glance. Every word. Every time Rachel had looked at him and then away again, as if she already knew he might matter too much.
His mate.
Who would have thought she had been here in Bear Creek all along?
By the time the cabin came into view through the trees, dusk had deepened enough to turn the windows black.
He had expected relief at the sight of it. His cabin. His home. His patch of mountain where nobody needed anything from him and he did not have to think too hard or feel too much.
We’re home, his bear said.
Yes.
But the word did not comfort him the way it usually did.
His mother had been looking after the place, so in some ways it looked as if he had never been away. But in other ways, it felt as though he had been gone forever.
Perhaps because he was not the same man who had left all those months ago.
Travel had changed him, yes. The places he had seen, the food he had tasted, the people he had met. But this was something else.
Finding his mate had changed him in a way he could not yet put into words.
He climbed the porch steps, weariness settling more heavily into his bones, and opened the door.
As he stepped inside, the smell of lemon polish met him, along with the soft hum of the fridge.
Elliott dropped his bag by the door and stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen.
There was nothing wrong with the cabin. It was comfortable, secluded, exactly what he needed after too much noise and too little space while traveling home.
Tonight, though, something in him would not settle.
He crossed to the counter, opened the fridge, and shut it again. His mother had stocked it, of course. Milk, eggs, butter, and one of her casseroles covered and waiting. A loaf of bread sat on the counter. Wildflowers stood in a vase on the windowsill.
Everything ready for him.
Everything as it should be.
And still the quiet pressed in.
He took a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, drank half of it, then set it down unfinished. He dragged a hand through his hair and turned in a slow circle, as if movement alone might ease whatever had taken hold of him.
It didn’t.
He was tired enough that his bones ached from it, but sleep felt impossible.
Every time his mind slowed, it circled back to the same things.
Rachel’s face when she had first looked at him.
The caution in her. The girls staying close to her without seeming to think about it.
Lucy’s questions. Aria’s watchful silence.
There was so much he wanted to know. So many questions he needed answers to.
He went to the back door and opened it, stepping out into the gathering darkness.
The night air hit his face, scented with pine and damp earth. The smell of home. Usually, the sights and sounds of the mountain helped ground him in this place, this life.
Tonight it only seemed to sharpen everything.
He stood on the porch with one hand gripping the railing and looked out toward the trees, but he could not stop his mind from turning back.
Rachel in the restaurant.
Rachel with the girls.
Rachel in his kitchen...
He stopped that thought so fast it left him standing rigid in the dark.
Not because he didn’t want it.
Because he did. So very much. He wanted them here in his home, in his life.
And that was worse.
Because right now it seemed impossible.
No, his bear said. Not impossible. Just not yet.
Not yet. Yes, his bear was right. He needed to be patient.
Still, once the image had come, he could not seem to push it away.
Rachel moving around the counter. Lucy talking from somewhere nearby.
Aria standing back at first, taking everything in before deciding what she thought of it.
The cabin no longer just his place to return to between one journey and the next, but something warmer. Fuller.
His bear stirred.
This could be more than somewhere to come back to.
Elliott stared out into the dark. I’ve always loved this life.
His bear was quiet for a beat. That’s not the same as wanting to keep it.
Damn, he needed to get out of his head. He needed to run. To feel the dirt beneath his paws. The wind in his face.
He took the porch steps two at a time. The air around him crackled and popped as he let go of the world.
When he landed on the ground, it was on four paws. Then he ran.
Ran as if his life depended on it.
He moved uphill fast, powerful and sure-footed, despite the dark. Running had always cleared his head. Primal instinct took over as he breathed in the scent of his surroundings, listening to the sounds of the mountain and forest.
Only tonight Rachel stayed with him.
So did the girls.
And the way she watched over them.
She’s protecting them, his bear said as they crested a ridge and slowed.
I know.
She is not protecting them from us, his bear corrected. She is protecting them from getting hurt.
That hit harder.
Elliott stopped on a flat stretch of stone and looked down toward the valley where Bear Creek lay. Somewhere down there, Rachel would be home by now. Perhaps putting the girls to bed. Or doing the dishes. Or watching TV.
Whatever it was that made up her life.
A life that depended on routine and responsibility. On people being there day after day.
Could he be that person?
He had always enjoyed his freedom. Freedom to make his own decisions. To go where the wind took him.
But that was before. Before he met her.
Before he realized that in many ways he had simply been running from the loneliness of not having a mate. A family.
There’s someone coming, his bear said.
Elliott pushed out his senses and recognized that someone instantly.
His father.
Elliott turned just as Thaddeus emerged between the trees in bear form, his fur tinged with silver. He came closer to stand beside Elliott’s bear and look out over the valley as if that had been his intention all along.
Elliott shifted back first.
The night air crackled and popped again as his bear vanished, and a heartbeat later, he stood there in human form.
Thaddeus followed a moment later, as unhurried as ever.
“Thought you’d be asleep by now,” his father said.
“Couldn’t settle.”
Thaddeus nodded once, as if that was neither surprising nor in need of further explanation.
They stood side by side in the dark, looking out at the view for a long moment.
“It must feel strange after so long away,” Thaddeus said eventually.
“A little,” Elliott admitted. “So much has changed.”
“You mean at the restaurant?” Thaddeus asked.
“Some, but Rachel fits in well,” Elliott said, not ready to admit to the mating bond even to his father.
Thaddeus kept his gaze on the valley below. “She does. Works hard. Looks after those girls.”
Elliott let out a breath. “I know.”
His father was quiet for a moment longer, then said, “It’s good to see them settled. Those girls have had enough leaving in their lives.”
Elliott looked down at his hands. “The girls’ father?”
“Yes.” Thaddeus shook his head. “I can’t understand how a man, a father, a husband, can do that.”
“Me neither,” Elliott murmured.
“It’s not in our nature,” Thaddeus added.
“It’s not,” Elliott agreed.
“Your brothers have all learned that,” Thaddeus said. “And one day soon you will too.”
He thinks we’re moping about being the only one without a mate, Elliott’s bear said.
Is he? Elliott answered. His father was one of the most astute men he knew.
But if Thaddeus knew or suspected the truth about the bond between Elliott and Rachel, he did not voice it. Instead, he said, “Your mother left stew in the fridge.”
Elliott almost smiled. “I saw. I’ll text her later to thank her.”
“Maybe we’ll see you at the restaurant again tomorrow?”
Then he clapped a hand once on Elliott’s shoulder, shifted, and disappeared through the trees.
Elliott stayed where he was a while longer, the cool night air moving over his skin, the valley spread out below him in darkness and scattered lights.
For so long, he had thought of home as a place to return to between journeys. Somewhere to rest. To breathe. To leave again when the time came.
But tonight, for the first time, he understood that was not enough.
Not if he wanted Rachel.
Not if he wanted any place in the life she had built so fiercely for herself and her girls.
His father was right. Those children had had enough leaving in their lives.
And Rachel had had enough of men who could not stay.
Elliott lifted his head and looked out toward Bear Creek.
He could not ask her to trust him yet.
He had done nothing to earn it.
But he could start tomorrow.
Quietly. Patiently. One day at a time.
He let out a slow breath, then turned back toward the trail.
Tomorrow, he would go to the restaurant.
And this time, he would stop thinking about how to get close to Rachel.
He would start proving he knew how to stay.