Chapter Fifteen – Elliott
Elliott knew it would be hard to keep his promise to Rachel. But staying away from the restaurant when he knew she was there was almost impossible.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss being around her.
Two days had passed since their walk to the lookout, and Elliott had kept his word. Not a single visit to the restaurant while Rachel was there.
Instead, he visited at night when he knew she’d be at home, blaming his absence during the day on his publishing deadline.
It wasn’t a complete lie.
But the work was slow, his mind too distracted with thoughts of his mate. Of needing to know what she was thinking and what the future held for them both.
Go to her, his bear urged for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Ask her.
No, Elliott replied firmly as he stared at his laptop screen, the cursor blinking accusingly on a half-finished paragraph about regional variations in Thai curry paste.
You promised to stay away from the restaurant, not out of her life, his bear replied.
And that was the thing. He didn’t know where he stood when it came to visiting her house.
His bear huffed. She only said the restaurant.
But what if I go to her house and the girls pick up on something? Elliott said.
Then maybe you could use the thing called a phone and call her, his bear retorted.
Elliott pushed away from his desk and stretched. The cabin felt too quiet tonight, too empty. He’d spent the afternoon testing recipes, but his heart wasn’t in it. The notes he’d scribbled were perfunctory at best. His editor would not be impressed.
At least make something to eat, his bear suggested. You’re no good to anyone hungry.
Elliott went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, surveying the contents without enthusiasm.
He pulled out ingredients for a simple pasta, more from habit than hunger.
As he chopped an onion, his mind drifted back to Rachel’s kitchen—to Lucy’s excitement and Aria’s careful measuring, to the warmth of that room and how right it had felt to be there.
He tossed the onion into the pan with more force than necessary.
This is ridiculous, he thought. I’m a grown man. I can handle not seeing someone for a few days.
But Rachel wasn’t just someone; she was his mate.
His bear remained pointedly silent.
The pasta came together quickly—garlic, tomatoes, a splash of wine, herbs from the windowsill. He ate standing at the counter, barely tasting it. When he was done, he washed the dishes with the same mechanical precision, dried them, and put them away.
The evening stretched before him, long and quiet.
He could go to the restaurant, it was late, Rachel would not be there. Or read. Or actually work on the book that was supposed to be his priority right now.
Instead, he found himself cutting another slice of the orange-rosemary cake he’d made earlier that day.
He hadn’t planned to make it. He’d told himself it was just to test the recipe for consistency.
But the scent that filled the cabin as it baked had been a sensory echo of that evening in Rachel’s kitchen, and he’d found himself smiling as he took it from the oven.
Now he sat at the small table by the window, fork in hand, watching darkness gather outside. The first bite of cake brought the memory of Rachel’s kitchen rushing back—Lucy’s flour-smudged face, Aria’s serious concentration, Rachel’s smile when she’d come home and found them all there.
His bear stirred. You’re torturing yourself.
I’m eating cake, Elliott countered.
You’re pining.
I’m reminiscing.
His bear made a sound that, if translated to human speech, would have been distinctly skeptical.
Elliott set down his fork, leaving half the slice uneaten. Maybe his bear was right. Maybe this wasn’t helping. He stood and moved to the sink, rinsing off his plate.
He needed to focus. The book wasn’t going to write itself. And Rachel had asked for space, which he was determined to give her, no matter how much his bear grumbled about it.
He had just settled back at his desk, determined to make some actual progress, when his bear suddenly went rigid with alertness.
What is it? Elliott asked, instantly on guard.
The feeling that flooded through him was electric, immediate—recognition and disbelief mingling with a surge of hope so strong it nearly knocked him from his chair.
Rachel, his bear said. She’s coming.
Elliott stood up so quickly that he nearly toppled his laptop. That’s not possible.
She is, his bear insisted. She’s coming here. Now.
Elliott moved to the window, straining to see through the darkness. There were no headlights on the road yet, no sound of an approaching car, but his bear was absolutely certain, and the mate bond hummed with awareness.
She’s really coming? he asked, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Yes, his bear said, with such conviction that Elliott could no longer doubt it.
He stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what this meant. Rachel was coming here. To his cabin. She had chosen to seek him out, to cross the distance herself.
His hand came up to his mouth, pressing against his lips as if to contain the emotion welling inside him. He had not asked this of her. Had not told her of the deep ache of longing welling up inside him.
Had kept his promise completely.
And yet she was coming.
Elliott moved through the cabin in a daze, straightening a cushion here, moving a book there, his mind racing. Was something wrong? Did she need help? Was it the girls?
No, his bear said confidently. She’s alone. She’s coming for us.
The certainty in his bear’s voice helped steady him. Elliott took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm the wild hope rising in his chest.
He moved to the porch, stepping out into the cool evening air just as headlights appeared on the road, cutting through the darkness. His breath caught as Rachel’s car came into view, moving steadily up the mountain toward the cabin.
Her car rolled to a stop, headlights briefly illuminating the porch before going dark. Elliott stood frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched Rachel step out of her car, closing the door with a soft thud that seemed to echo in the quiet mountain air.
She’s really here, his bear said, wonder coloring the thought.
Elliott took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. He moved back inside, not wanting to appear as though he’d been waiting for her, though of course he had been—from the moment his bear had sensed her approach.
Wait for her to knock, his bear advised. Don’t rush.
He paced once across the living room, running a hand through his hair, then stopped himself. The last thing he wanted was to seem nervous or eager, even though he was both.
When the knock finally came, light but firm, Elliott counted to three before moving to the door. He opened it slowly, carefully keeping his expression neutral despite the joy surging through him.
Rachel stood on his porch, backlit by moonlight. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore a simple sweater and jeans. She looked tired, a little uncertain, but there was something resolute in the way she held herself.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Rachel,” he replied, his voice steadier than he felt. “This is a surprise.”
She shifted her weight slightly, her fingers twisting together before she stilled them. “I know. I should have called first.”
“No, it’s fine,” Elliott said, stepping back from the doorway. “Would you like to come in?”
She hesitated only briefly before nodding and stepping past him into the cabin. The scent of her filled his senses as she passed. His bear rumbled with satisfaction.
She’s here by choice, his bear reminded him. She came to us.
Elliott closed the door and turned to find Rachel standing in the middle of his living room, taking it in—the bookshelves filled with cookbooks and travel guides, the comfortable but simple furniture, the laptop abandoned on the desk.
“I was working,” he explained, gesturing toward the computer. “Or trying to.”
Rachel nodded, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m interrupting.”
“You’re rescuing me,” Elliott corrected gently. “The words weren’t coming, anyway.”
That earned him a small smile, and a spark of hope flickered inside him. He wanted to ask why she had come, what had brought her up the mountain to his door, but he held back. Let her speak first. Let her set the pace.
“Can I get you something?” he asked instead. “Tea? Wine?”
“Tea would be nice,” she said.
Elliott moved to the kitchen, grateful for something to do with his hands. He filled the kettle and set it on the stove, then reached for two mugs from the cabinet.
“The girls are at a sleepover,” Rachel said suddenly from behind him.
Elliott turned, careful to keep his expression open rather than expectant. “Oh?”
She nodded, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. “At their friend Poppy’s house. Her mother offered to take them both for the night.”
“That’s nice of her,” Elliott said, though his mind was racing with the implications. Rachel was here. Alone. By choice.
“It is,” Rachel agreed. She took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. “I almost didn’t come.”
The kettle began to whistle, and Elliott turned to switch off the burner. He poured hot water over the tea bags, buying himself a moment to steady his thoughts.
“I’m glad you did,” he said simply, turning back to her with the mugs in hand.
They moved to the living room, settling on the sofa with enough space between them to respect boundaries but close enough to feel intimate. Rachel cradled her mug in both hands, staring down at the steaming liquid.
“The distance isn’t working,” she said finally, her voice quiet but clear. “I’ve been trying to... to keep things separate. Work. Home. You.” She glanced up at him. “But I keep thinking about you, anyway.”
Elliott’s heart skipped. His bear went completely still, as if afraid any movement might break the moment.
“I understand why you asked for space,” he said carefully. “I would have stayed away as long as you needed.”
“I know.” She set her mug down on the coffee table. “That’s part of the problem. You’re being so... reasonable. So patient.” A small, frustrated laugh escaped her. “It would be easier if you weren’t.”
“Would it?” Elliott asked, genuinely curious.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Then I could tell myself you’re not good for us. That you’re pushy or demanding or... I don’t know. Something I could use to keep my distance.”
The honesty in her words touched something deep in him. He set his own mug down and turned to face her more fully.
“I don’t want to be kept at a distance,” he said quietly. “But I understand why you might need that.”
Rachel looked at him then, really looked at him, and the vulnerability in her eyes made his heart ache.
“I came because I missed you,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “Because pretending I don’t want to be around you is exhausting. Because every time I smell orange or rosemary at the restaurant, I think about you in my kitchen with the girls.”
She’s choosing us, his bear said, awe filling the thought.
Elliott had to swallow hard before he could speak. “I’ve missed you too,” he said. “More than I should admit.”
A smile touched Rachel’s lips, small but real. “I think we’re past pretending, aren’t we?”
“I hope so,” Elliott said. He wanted to reach for her hand, to pull her close.
But he needed this to be her choice completely.
And then she made it.