Chapter Seventeen – Elliott
She wasn’t there.
Elliott knew it before he opened his eyes, before he reached across the bed and found only the cooling sheets beside him.
The warmth of her still lingered. The pillow next to his held the faint dip where her head had rested, and for a moment, he lay still, one hand spread over the empty place she had left behind, letting the truth of it settle.
She had gone.
Elliott sat up, pushing a hand through his hair. Last night had been everything he had wanted and more than he had dared hope for. The way she had come to him. The way she had chosen him. The way she had felt in his arms.
And now she was gone.
Did you really expect her to stay? his bear asked, not unkindly.
I hoped, Elliott admitted.
That was when he saw it.
A small folded piece of paper sat on the nightstand, neat and white against the dark wood. Relief flooded through him as he reached for it.
The note was brief, written in Rachel’s careful hand.
I’m sorry I left before you woke. I wasn’t ready for morning yet. Thank you for last night. Call me. Rachel.
Elliott read it twice, then once more, his thumb brushing lightly over her name.
She wants us to call her, his bear said, suddenly delighted.
A smile pulled at Elliott’s mouth before he could stop it. She had not run because she regretted him. She had not left because the night had been a mistake. She had simply not been ready for morning, for waking beside him and facing whatever that might mean.
He could understand that.
He got up and showered, though the hot water did nothing to quiet the memory of her. By the time he had dressed and made coffee, he’d read it so many times he could already have recited it by heart.
You should text her, his bear said.
I know.
Now.
Elliott took his mug to the table, sat down, and opened his phone. He scrolled to her number, stared at her name on the screen for a moment longer than necessary, then opened a new message.
Tell her good morning, his bear urged. Tell her we’ve been thinking about her. Tell her…
No.
Tell her last night was the best...
Definitely no.
His bear huffed.
Elliott typed one word.
Hi
His thumb hovered while he decided what to add.
I know. But as he went to type the next letter, his thumb hit send.
He stared at the screen.
“That was smooth,” he muttered.
You sent ‘Hi’, his bear said, sounding personally offended. That’s all?
It’s a start.
It is barely a start.
Before Elliott could type anything else, three dots appeared on the screen.
His heart gave a hard, sudden thud.
A second later, her reply came through.
Hi.
He let out a short laugh. She had answered at once.
He typed quickly this time.
Morning. I found your note. I hope you got home safely.
The dots appeared again.
I did. Thank you. I’m sorry I slipped away.
Then another message.
I needed to get home. I was worried in case the girls needed me and I wasn’t here.
Of course.
The girls.
He should have thought of that immediately. Rachel would not have wanted Lucy and Aria waking in a friend’s house while she was still up here on the mountain, in a bed they knew nothing about, with a man she was not yet ready to explain.
No need to apologize, he wrote back. I understand.
There was a pause after that, long enough for him to wonder whether something had happened, whether work had pulled her away, whether he had already said too much or too little.
Then her next message came through.
Would you like to get coffee later? I have a break at 2.
His bear nearly roared with satisfaction. She wants to see us again.
Elliott smiled down at the phone.
I’d like that. Where?
Her answer came quickly.
The coffee shop just off Main Street? We could sit outside.
To Elliott, that meant one thing. They were no longer hiding their relationship from the world.
Perfect, he replied. I’ll see you at 2.
He set the phone down and sat there for a moment, coffee cooling in his hand, the morning light stretching slowly across the table.
Rachel had not closed the door on him.
If anything, she had opened it a little wider.
It’s a start, his bear said, sounding smug now.
Elliott looked at the screen again, at the brief messages that already meant so much to him.
It’s her choice, he said softly.
That mattered.
More than almost anything.
Elliott spent the rest of the morning trying to bury himself in work. But all he could think of was meeting his mate.
Still, he’d managed to get a chapter written by the time he arrived at the coffee shop ten minutes early.
He ordered two coffees, one black for himself and one with cream and a touch of sugar for Rachel, the way he had seen her take it more than once at the restaurant.
Then he chose a table outside, partly tucked behind a large potted plant that gave them a little shelter without making it feel as though he was hiding her away.
You’re overthinking the seating, his bear observed.
Probably.
Definitely.
Still, he stayed where he was.
Everything about this felt delicate. Good, but delicate.
He sensed her before she saw him, crossing from the direction of the restaurant in her work clothes, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She looked tired, and beautiful, and a little uncertain, and the sight of her tugged at something deep in his soul.
When she spotted him, a small smile touched her mouth.
“Hi,” she said, slipping into the chair across from him.
“Hi.” Elliott slid the coffee toward her. “I hope this is right.”
Rachel looked surprised, then pleased as she took a sip. “It is. Thank you.”
For a moment, they simply looked at each other, with last night and this morning and everything unsaid hanging quietly between them.
Say something, his bear urged.
“Did you sleep well?” Elliott asked, and inwardly winced at how formal it sounded after everything they had done and said.
Rachel’s mouth twitched slightly as she lowered her cup. “Not really. The house feels different when the girls aren’t there.”
He nodded. He did not mention waking up without her. He did not mention the emptiness she had left in his bed. She knew that much already.
“How are they?” he asked instead.
A softness came into her face at once. “Good. Lucy’s still talking about the cake. She wants to know when we’re making another one. She’s coming up with all these weird and wonderful combinations since the orange and rosemary worked so well.”
He chuckled. “I’d be happy to help with that anytime. I am always open to a little flavor experimentation.”
“That’s actually...” Rachel looked down at her cup, then back up at him. “I was wondering if you might want to join us this weekend.”
Elliott went very still.
“The girls and I usually go down to the creek when it’s warm enough,” she went on. “Nothing fancy. A picnic. Maybe some paddling in the shallows.”
His bear fell completely silent, as if afraid even a thought might break the moment.
Rachel watched him carefully. “It’s fine if you’re busy. I know you have your book...”
“I’m not busy,” Elliott said, a little too quickly.
Her mouth curved.
He took a steadier breath. “I’d like that very much.”
The tension in her shoulders eased, just a little.
“It’s usually sandwiches and fruit,” she said. “Maybe cookies if we have time to make them. We go around eleven.”
“Should I bring anything?”
“Just yourself,” she said, then smiled a little more fully. “Though the girls would probably be a little disappointed if you didn’t bring something sweet.”
Elliott laughed. “I think I can manage that.”
A longer silence settled then. Not awkward. Not empty. Just full of the knowledge that this was not a small invitation, no matter how lightly she had worded it.
She was asking him to be a part of something that was special to her and the girls.
He understood how much that meant, even if she did not say it aloud.
She’s letting us in, his bear said quietly.
Rachel brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face and glanced at her watch. “I should go. My break is nearly over.”
“Of course.”
She hesitated, then reached across the table and laid her fingers lightly over his hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “For understanding. About this morning.”
He turned his hand beneath hers, just enough to hold it. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”
Her eyes met his.
“I meant what I said,” he told her. “I’m not asking for everything at once.”
She smiled faintly. “I know.”
Then she stood, shouldering her purse, and he thought that was it. That she would walk away.
Then she glanced around once and leaned down to kiss him.
It was brief. Soft. Warm.
But there, in the middle of an ordinary afternoon with traffic moving past and other people seated around them, it felt every bit as intimate as anything they had shared in private.
When she drew back, a faint flush had risen in her cheeks.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” she said. “Eleven o’clock. We usually park at the north trail entrance.”
“I’ll be there.”
He watched her walk away, back toward the restaurant, and just before she crossed the street, she turned and looked back at him. The smile she gave him then was small, but real.
His bear let out a long, satisfied sigh. She kissed us in public.
Elliott smiled despite himself. You make it sound scandalous.
It is a little.
He gathered the empty cups and carried them inside, then stood for a moment with one hand on the café door, looking out at the street she had just crossed.
A creek picnic.
With Rachel and the girls.
Not hidden away in the dark. Not borrowed hours on a mountain. Something ordinary. Something real.
That, more than anything, told him how much this mattered.
Rachel was not giving him everything yet.
But she was giving him something precious.
And Elliott knew, as he headed back to his truck, that he would do whatever it took not to let her regret that step.