Chapter Thirteen – Elliott
Elliott had not slept well. How could he when he wasn’t sure if he’d completely ruined everything with Rachel? He’d tossed and turned all night, replaying their conversation, seeing her face when he’d finally spoken the words aloud.
Words she hadn’t wanted to hear.
But what haunted him the most were her words. That’s what everyone says. Until they go.
He’d replayed them over and over as he lay in bed. By the time dawn broke, he’d made up his mind.
He needed to see her. Needed to make her understand that he meant it when he said he was staying. That he wasn’t going anywhere.
Unable to stay in bed, he slipped from beneath the covers and dressed before going downstairs and doing what he always did when he needed comfort.
Cooked.
But not for himself. For his mate.
You’re not going to win her trust with food, his bear grumbled as Elliott pulled into the parking lot near the school a couple of hours later.
I don’t expect to, Elliott said as he pushed out his senses, trying to find his mate among all the children and parents.
But it’s a place to start, Elliott added.
She’s here. His bear gave a satisfied rumble.
He watched as parents and children streamed toward the school building, scanning for Rachel’s familiar figure. He held the thermos of coffee in one hand, and beside him on the passenger seat sat a small white box tied with twine—coconut-lime breakfast cakes he’d baked from scratch.
He’d mentioned them to Rachel last night, as he’d shared his memories of his time in Thailand.
So it felt right to make them for her. To share a part of himself with her.
There she is, his bear said suddenly, alert and eager.
Elliott spotted her then, walking back toward her car after dropping off the girls. Even from this distance, he could see the tiredness in her posture, matching his own exhaustion.
This was all his fault. The thought hit him hard.
We need to make this right, his bear said.
I’m trying, Elliott replied.
He got out of his truck, coffee and cakes in hand, and waited by the path rather than approaching her car directly. Giving her space. A choice.
She saw him almost immediately, and for a heartbeat, he thought she might turn away. But then she squared her shoulders and walked toward him, her expression guarded but not closed.
“Morning,” he said when she was close enough.
“Morning.” Her voice was quiet, a little rough with tiredness. Her eyes flicked to the box in his hands, then back to his face.
Elliott held up the thermos. “I thought maybe you could use a coffee. And...” he lifted the box slightly, “coconut-lime cakes. Freshly made. By me.”
A small smile touched the corner of her mouth. “You must have gotten up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “And after talking about them last night, I thought... why not make some?”
Rachel looked at him for a long moment, then sighed softly. “I guess I’d better save you from eating all the cakes yourself.”
Elliott cracked a smile. “Exactly. You have to save me from myself.”
His bear gave a satisfied huff.
“Although I don’t think the schoolyard is the place,” she said, looking around.
“I was thinking we could walk,” Elliott said. “Up to the lookout, maybe?”
She nodded, hesitating only briefly. “All right.”
They fell into step together as they walked out of the school parking lot. Neither spoke at first, the silence between them not exactly comfortable, but not unbearable either.
“How were the girls this morning?” he asked finally, knowing it was safer ground.
Rachel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. They insisted on me packing a slice of cake in their lunch boxes. I’m sure they will be telling all their friends about how they helped bake it.”
“I can imagine,” Elliott said lightly.
“Although I’m sure in their version, you might not play the starring role.” She glanced sideways at him. “I hope that doesn’t dent your ego too much. You being a celebrity chef and all.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I would go that far.” He glanced around. “See, I can walk down the street without being recognized or mobbed by adoring fans.”
As if he’d tempted fate, someone drove by and called out, “Morning, Elliott.”
She smothered a laugh as he turned to see who it was.
“Frank.” Elliott waved. “It’s Frank from the hardware store. Not a fan.”
“I know,” she said with a smile. “I also know that in this town you’re as likely to get recognized as a Thornberg as a celebrity chef.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Elliott asked.
“Not at all. I love your family,” she said, her expression serious. “They have been good to the girls and me. It made the move here so much easier.”
He nodded as they turned off the sidewalk and took a path to the lookout. It was quiet at this time of morning, and soon all they could hear were their footsteps and the sounds of birds. Elliott matched his pace to hers, careful not to hurry her.
“I’ve been here with the girls once,” Rachel said as they neared the top. “Lucy complained the entire way up, then didn’t want to leave once we got here.”
Elliott smiled. “When we were kids, my brothers and I used to race up here.”
“Who won?”
“Usually, Caleb. He’s got more of a competitive streak. It’s why he’s good at running the restaurant.”
“Did you ever think of working there?” Rachel asked.
Answer carefully, his bear said. She might be trying to work out if you are a steady nine-to-five man.
I’m not, Elliott said.
But our mate doesn’t need to know that, his bear grumbled.
“Are you talking to your bear?” Rachel asked as they reached the top and the lookout opened before them, a small clearing with a weathered wooden bench facing out over the valley.
Bear Creek spread below, morning mist still clinging to the edges of the town, the mountains rising blue and distant beyond.
“I am,” he replied. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said. “It’s kind of fascinating.”
She finds me fascinating! His bear practically jumped for joy.
She hasn’t met you yet, Elliott replied.
“Is it like a voice in your head?” She tilted her head to one side.
“Yes,” Elliott replied, happy that she seemed to be more interested in him than the incredible view laid out before them. “That’s the simplest way to explain it. But it’s more than a voice. We feel the same things. Or sometimes different things, like emotions.”
“Do you ever argue with each other?” she asked.
“No.” He chuckled. “We tend to be on the same wavelength most of the time. Although he was pushing me to tell you about us sooner.”
She didn’t say anything as she turned and stared out at the creek in the distance. And he didn’t push her. If she needed time, he would give it to her. If she needed space, she’d have that too.
“I think I’d like to try your coconut-lime cakes now.” She turned around and sat on the bench.
Elliott sat beside her and set the thermos down before he opened the cake box and offered it to her first.
“Thank you,” she said, taking one of the small cakes.
He poured coffee into the two cups he’d brought, handed one to her, then took a cake for himself. For a while, they simply sat there, looking out over the valley, the silence less tense now, eased by food and the beauty spread before them.
“These are delicious,” Rachel said finally.
“I told you.” He smiled a little. “Though the ones in Thailand were better.”
“Are these going in your book?” she asked, brushing crumbs from her fingers.
He shook his head. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“But they mean a lot to you. Don’t you want to share them with other people?”
Elliott looked down at the cake in his hand. “I’d like to keep them to myself,” he said quietly. “Because they hold special memories.”
“Of your time in Thailand,” she said.
“Yes.” He met her eyes. “And now.”
The quiet between them stretched, full of things neither of them was saying. A bird called overhead, breaking the silence.
“I know last night was a lot,” Elliott said finally.
Rachel looked away, back toward the valley. “It was.”
“I’m not asking you to make any decisions now,” he said carefully. “I’m not asking for forever today.”
She turned to look at him, her expression suddenly clear and direct. “But you are asking me for forever.”
Elliott felt the weight of her words, the truth in them. He chuckled softly and shook his head. “Wow, I can see how scary that would be.”
“It is scary,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Especially when you’ve seen forever dissolve before.”
Rachel’s fingers curled around her coffee cup, knuckles whitening slightly. “It’s not that I don’t believe what you’re saying, Elliott.” Her voice was quiet but steady. “That’s actually what scares me the most.”
She looked down at her hands, then back at him. The morning light caught the edges of her hair as she took a deep breath.
“I believe you mean every word. I believe you feel this... connection between us. I even believe you when you say you want to stay.” She paused, and something shifted in her expression—a vulnerability that made his chest tighten.
“But Mark meant it too when he said he’d always be there for the girls.
He promised. And then one day he just... wasn’t.”
Elliott stayed silent, giving her space to continue.
“The problem isn’t whether you mean it now. It’s that people can mean something completely when they say it, and still leave.” She brushed a crumb from her lap with careful precision. “When you have children, good intentions aren’t enough. They need stability. Consistency.”
She looked out over the valley again, her profile sharp against the morning sky.
“Aria and Lucy have already been through one person walking away. They’ve already learned that sometimes people don’t stay, no matter what they promise.
I can’t...” Her voice caught slightly. “I can’t build their hopes on something that might not hold. ”
Elliott nodded slowly, taking in every word. He didn’t reach for her, didn’t try to counter what she was saying with grand promises or declarations.
“You’re right,” he said simply.
She looked at him, surprise flickering across her face.
“Words are easy,” he continued, his voice low and steady. “I know they’re not enough. Trust has to be earned... especially when it’s been broken before.”
He set his coffee down beside him on the bench. “I’m not going to promise you forever right now, because you’re right—that would just be words. What I can tell you is that I’m not going anywhere. Not tomorrow, not next week, not next month.”
Not ever, his bear said.
“I’ll prove it to you,” he said. “Not with big gestures or promises. But by being here. By showing up. By earning your trust little by little, for as long as it takes.”
Rachel’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. She didn’t smile, didn’t suddenly melt into acceptance, but something in her eyes changed—a tiny barrier lowering.
“You might get tired of waiting,” she said, but the edge had gone from her voice.
“I won’t.”
She studied him for a moment longer, then looked down at the box between them. “I’m still scared,” she admitted quietly. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“I know.”
“But I’m tired of fighting it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Tired of pretending I don’t feel anything.”
The birds and wind seemed to fade until there was only the two of them on the bench and the confession hanging between them.
Rachel looked at him, really looked at him, and Elliott stayed perfectly still. Waiting. Hoping.
When she leaned toward him, it was slow, hesitant. Her hand came up to rest lightly on his shoulder, testing. Elliott remained motionless, letting her set the pace, letting her decide.
Her lips touched his with a gentleness that made his heart ache. The kiss was tentative, a question more than a statement. Elliott responded with equal care, his hand coming up to cup her cheek with the lightest touch.
The kiss deepened, just slightly—not with heat or urgency, but with a quiet certainty. He felt her wanting it too, even through the fear.
When Rachel pulled back, her eyes were wide, a flush spreading across her cheeks. Elliott could feel his own heart hammering in his chest, the kiss hanging between them.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Elliott swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
She didn’t move away, but she didn’t move closer either. Her fingers still rested lightly on his shoulder, as if she wasn’t quite ready to break the connection but wasn’t sure what to do next.
“That was...” she began.
“Nice?” he offered, a small smile touching his lips.
Rachel laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “Very.”