Chapter Twenty-Two – Rachel
Rachel stood for a moment at the school gate, watching Lucy and Aria disappear inside with the other children, Lucy turning once to wave before she was swept onward by the tide of backpacks and chatter.
Then Rachel turned.
It was as if she had felt him before she saw him.
Elliott was standing a little way off by the fence, still and watchful, his gaze already on her. The sight of him hit her all at once—relief first, sharp and immediate, so honest she could not deny it even to herself.
Then everything else followed close behind.
The memory of yesterday morning. The voicemail. The cold rush of panic that had taken hold before he even knew what it meant. The sickening fear that she had made a mistake letting him in, only to find herself faced with him walking out of their lives again.
Not in the same way Mark had. But that wouldn’t make it any less hard to bear.
But here he was.
It would be so easy to turn and walk away from him. Go to her car, drive home, and lock the door. Shut him out of their lives.
But they had come too far for that.
So as he came toward her, Rachel stayed where she was, her hand tightening around the strap of her purse.
By the time he reached her, she could see that he looked much as she felt—tired, raw, carrying the weight of it all.
“Rachel,” he said, and just hearing him speak her name made her knees go weak.
But she needed to be strong, so she lifted her chin. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I didn’t want to come to the house with the girls there,” he said. “But I needed to see you.”
She swallowed hard, not trusting herself to speak.
“I tried calling,” he said. “And texting.”
“I know.”
He nodded, his expression tightening just slightly. “I need to explain.”
Rachel looked away for a moment, out toward the road where parents were already drifting back to the rest of their day. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was quieter than she meant it to be. “I don’t think there’s much to say.”
“There is,” he said. “Just not here.”
That made her look back at him.
And what she saw in his eyes gave her a ridiculous burst of hope.
“Come with me,” he said. “Please.”
Rachel stared at him.
Every sensible instinct told her no. Told her she should shut him out, protect herself and the girls from caring more. From caring too much.
Told her that going anywhere private with him again, when she still wasn’t sure she could bear what he might say next, was the exact opposite of self-protection.
But she wanted to hear him.
Needed to hear him.
“Where?” she asked.
A faint breath left him, not quite relief, but close to it.
“My place,” he said. “I need to show you something.”
Rachel looked at him for a long moment, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her throat.
His place.
The words stirred up too much at once. The memory of being there before. Of making love to him for the first time.
Now he wanted to take her back there.
To explain.
To show her something.
“Elliott…” she began, but the words went nowhere.
“I’m not asking you for forever,” he said, his voice husky. “I’m just asking for an hour. Please.”
An hour. She could give him that.
But she knew deep down she wanted forever.
“Why your house?” she asked.
“Because that’s where it is,” he said simply.
“It?” She searched his face, but he was giving nothing away. Rachel let out a slow breath. “I’ll follow you.”
He nodded once, but the relief on his face was unmistakable. “Okay.”
She turned and walked back to her car on unsteady legs.
The drive up to Elliott’s cabin passed in a blur of trees and sunlight and the steady, unhelpful beat of Rachel’s own thoughts.
She had known from the beginning.
Even before he had said the words aloud in her kitchen, some quiet part of her had recognized the truth of him. Not only the pull between them, though that had been there from the first moment. Not only the wanting. Something deeper than that. Soul deep.
You are my mate.
And she had known.
That was what made all of this so frightening. Not doubt. Not confusion. Belief.
Belief, and the terrible hope that came with it.
Because Elliott had never pushed when she asked for space.
Never mocked her caution. Never made her feel foolish for guarding the girls or herself.
Even when it must have hurt him, he had respected the boundaries she set.
He had waited. He had made breakfast in her kitchen as if ordinary things were worth as much to him as grand ones.
That was what kept undoing her.
Not promises.
The simple fact that, so far, he had never let her down.
By the time she pulled in behind his truck, her throat felt tight.
Elliott was already out of the cab when she stepped from her car. He came toward her slowly, as though giving her time to retreat if she needed it.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
Rachel looked at him, at the strain in his face, the hope he was trying not to show too plainly, and felt tears prick her eyes so quickly it startled her.
“Always,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Something moved across his face at that, something deep and almost shaken. He lifted one hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly beneath her eye.
Rachel leaned into the touch for one small, helpless moment.
Then, before she could lose her nerve, she rose onto her toes and kissed him.
It was only a kiss. Soft. Brief. But she felt the tension leave him all the same, like a held breath finally let go.
When she drew back, Elliott looked at her as if she had handed him something precious.
“So what do you want to show me?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
“It’s inside,” he said. Then he hesitated. “But first… there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Rachel’s breath caught.
She already knew.
Of course, she knew.
Still, when Elliott took her hand and led her around the side of the cabin to a clearing beyond his garden, her heart was beating so hard she thought she might be sick.
Elliott stopped and turned to face her.
He searched her face for a long moment, then let go and stepped back.
Rachel held her breath.
The air around him gave that strange, sharp crackle she had heard described before but never witnessed. One second Elliott stood there, solid and human and known to her. The next, his form vanished, and in the space where he had been, the bear appeared.
Rachel’s breath left her in a rush.
He was enormous. Beautiful. Dark fur catching the light in rich brown and black, head lifted, eyes fixed on her with a gaze that was at once animal and utterly, unmistakably him.
For a moment, she could do nothing but stand there and look.
Then, slowly, she stepped forward.
The bear huffed once, low and warm, and lowered his head just slightly.
Rachel lifted a trembling hand and laid it against his fur.
It was softer than she had expected. Thicker too.
Real in a way that made something inside her finally give way.
Her fingers sank into the heavy warmth of him, and before she knew what she was doing, she had moved closer, pressing her face into the side of his neck as tears spilled hot and helpless down her cheeks.
“I want to believe in you,” she whispered into his fur. “I want to trust you.”
The bear made a soft sound deep in his chest and nuzzled his head against her, nearly knocking her sideways with the weight of it. Rachel gave a wet, startled laugh through her tears and held on tighter.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, alone in the quiet behind the cabin, while she cried a little and stroked his fur and let herself feel the impossible truth of him.
At last, she drew back, sniffed, and wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand.
The bear was still watching her with those same steady eyes.
Rachel let out a shaky breath.
“I think it’s time,” she said.
The bear held her gaze for one long moment more.
Then the air around him crackled again, sharp little pops breaking the stillness, and in the space of a breath, he was gone. Elliott stood there in his place, human again, a little unsteady as he came back into himself.
Rachel did not hesitate.
She crossed the distance between them and went straight into his arms.
He caught her at once, holding her so tightly it was as if he had no intention of ever letting her go again, and for a few seconds neither of them said anything.
Rachel could feel his heart beating hard beneath her cheek.
His hand drifted up and down her back, steadying her, comforting her, perhaps steadying himself too.
At last, she drew back just enough to look at him.
“Your bear is amazing,” she whispered. “I never expected it to feel so…”
She trailed off, shaking her head a little, unable to find words big enough or true enough for what had just passed between her and that great, gentle creature who had looked at her with Elliott’s eyes.
Elliott’s thumb brushed under one of the tears still clinging to her cheek. “He feels the same way about you,” he murmured.
Rachel looked up at him, his face slightly blurred through the tears still filling her eyes.
“I want to make this work, Elliott,” she said. “But I’m scared.”
Something softened in his expression then, something that looked almost like relief. He bent and kissed her, not urgently, just a soft press of his mouth against hers that felt like reassurance more than passion.
Then he took her hand.
“Come on,” he said. “I have something to show you.”
He led her back inside, through the quiet of the cabin, straight into the kitchen.
Rachel’s heart was still beating too hard, her thoughts still catching on the impossible reality of what she had just seen and felt, so that for a second she did not understand why he was guiding her around to one side of the kitchen island while he moved to the other.
He let go of her hand and cleared his throat.
Then, with a composure so deliberate it almost made her laugh before he had even begun, he spread his hands slightly and said, “Welcome to Homecooked. I’m Elliott Thornberg, and I want to share with you the joys of home-cooked food.”
Rachel blinked.
A startled laugh escaped her before she could stop it, though it faded quickly into a frown of confusion. “What are you doing?”
His mouth twitched, but his gaze stayed steady on hers. “This,” he said, touching the counter lightly, then gesturing around the kitchen, “is my new cooking show. And there’s a book deal too.”
Rachel took a step back before she could help herself.
“So you are taking the offer?”
Elliott was around the island almost before she had finished speaking. He stopped in front of her and took both her hands in his.
“Not that offer,” he said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere, Rachel. I’m staying here.”
She stared at him.
“I’ll do the show here,” he went on. “In my own kitchen. In Bear Creek. I’ll write the book here too. Home cooking. Family food. The sort of meals people make and share in real life, in real homes.” His fingers tightened gently around hers. “In the life we make together, if you’ll let me.”
Rachel could only look at him.
For a second, she honestly thought she had misunderstood. That she had wanted it so badly, she had heard only the part she could bear.
“You’re not going away?” she asked, and hated how small and hopeful her voice sounded.
“Never.”
She gave a broken little laugh that turned into tears before she knew what was happening. Then she was smiling and crying all at once, and Elliott was kissing her again while she clutched at his shirt as if he might still vanish if she let go.
When they finally parted, his forehead rested against hers.
“I love you,” he said. “You and the girls are the most important things in my life. And your life is here. So this is where I plan to stay.”
Rachel closed her eyes for one brief second, then opened them and kissed him again.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the words had gone right through him.
Then she drew back just enough to look at him properly.
“But I can’t ask you to make that promise.”
“It’s already made,” he said.
“No.” Rachel shook her head, though her hands stayed where they were, holding him. “All I need is for you to promise me that you’ll talk to me. And then we’ll make the decision together about what’s best for our family.”
He went utterly still.
“Our family,” he repeated.
Rachel felt her cheeks warm, but she did not take it back.
A slow, wondrous smile spread across his face, and then he gathered her into his arms once more, holding her as if the words themselves were something precious.
“Those,” he murmured against her hair, “are the sweetest words I’ve ever heard.”