RILEY
I watch Elias's truck disappear down the mountain road, dust trailing behind as he heads into the wilderness. Something about the way he moves, confident, controlled, utterly sure of himself, makes my stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with wanting.
I've felt it since I came back to Grizzly Ridge after college. The shift between us. The air going electric whenever we're in the same room. The way his blue eyes track me when he thinks I'm not looking.
Of course I'm looking. I've been looking for years.
Dad used to bring me to this cabin when I was a kid, back when Mom was still alive and life made sense.
Elias was always here, larger than life, teaching me to fish in the stream behind the property, showing me how to track deer through the trees.
As I grew up, he became a fixture in my world, the stoic, silent shadow at my father's side.
Then I left for college, and the next time I saw him, everything had changed. Or maybe I had. Maybe experiencing the world had opened my eyes to what had always been there, the raw magnetism of a man who commands every room he enters without saying a word.
I sip the coffee he made, strong and black just like he drinks it, and survey his cabin.
It's exactly like him, sturdy, practical, no frills but somehow still beautiful.
Exposed beams cross the high ceiling. The furniture is handcrafted, each piece showing the care and precision of a craftsman.
Bookshelves line one wall, filled with wildlife guides, military history, and dog-eared classics.
What surprises me are the photos. For such a private man, Elias has quite a collection.
Most feature the McKenna clan, six brothers who look so similar they could be different versions of the same man, all dark hair and intense blue eyes.
I recognize Cade with his wife Harper at what must be their wedding, Boone in his fire chief uniform with his family, Sawyer looking stern in his sheriff's hat.
And then there's one of me.
My breath catches when I spot it, tucked between family photos like I belong there. It's from my high school graduation, me in my cap and gown, flanked by Dad and Elias. Dad's laughing, arm around my shoulders. And Elias...
Elias is looking at me like I've hung the moon.
How did I never notice that before?
Setting down my mug, I wander through the cabin, doing what I couldn't last night, getting a feel for the man who's reluctantly let me into his space.
His bedroom door stands open, revealing a king-sized bed with a handmade quilt and a nightstand stacked with books.
The scent of him is stronger here, pine and leather and something uniquely male.
I resist the urge to lie on his bed, to bury my face in his pillow. I'm not that pathetic. Not yet, anyway.
Instead, I head upstairs to the guest room I'd crashed in last night. My few belongings are scattered around, the hastily packed bag containing whatever I could grab before Brad started throwing things, my laptop case, my phone now dead because I left the charger behind.
Brad.
Six months of my life wasted on a man who talked big about supporting my dreams but secretly resented every minute I spent writing instead of paying attention to him. Who promised to help me get on my feet after college, then held it over my head every chance he got.
Who put his hands on me when I told him I was leaving.
The bruise on my wrist has darkened overnight, clear fingerprints where he grabbed me. I touch it gently, remembering the fury in his eyes when I told him I was done. The way he'd grabbed me, squeezing until I thought the bones would snap.
And then the satisfying wheeze when my knee connected with his groin.
I hadn't been lying when I told Elias I'd handled it. But I'd also been terrified. Brad knows people in Grizzly Ridge. His family has money, connections. The fact that I kneed him in the balls isn't going to be forgotten easily.
So I'd run to the one place, the one person, who's always made me feel safe.
To the man who looks at me like I'm both salvation and temptation.
I strip off my clothes and head for the shower attached to the guest room, letting hot water wash away the lingering fear and tension.
As steam fills the small space, I can't help but imagine Elias in here earlier, water sluicing down that broad chest, over the ridged muscles of his abdomen, lower. ..
Heat pools between my thighs, and I press my forehead against the cool tile. This is bad. Really bad. I'm homeless, jobless, and lusting after a man who's twice my age and knew me when I was in pigtails.
A man who made a deathbed promise to my father.
I shut off the water and wrap myself in a towel, determined to pull myself together.
I've never been one to wallow, even when life kicks me in the teeth.
Dad always said I got my stubbornness from Mom, the woman who'd insisted on going hiking eight months pregnant because she'd "already missed out on enough adventures. "
That same love for adventure later killed her, and Dad never quite recovered. But he raised me to be strong anyway.
I dress in clean clothes, jeans, a soft blue sweater that brings out my eyes, and braid my wet hair. There's a landline in the kitchen, and even though making calls on a house phone feels like stepping back in time, I need to start figuring out my next steps.
First call, my landlord. Yes, I know rent's due. No, I won't be renewing. Yes, I'll be by to pick up my things as soon as I find a place to stay.
Second call, the Grizzly Ridge Gazette. The local paper occasionally publishes my articles, mostly human interest stories about mountain life. They don't have any work right now, but they'll keep me in mind.
Third call: my friend Sophie who works at the diner. She doesn't answer, but I leave a message asking if they need extra help.
By the time I've exhausted my options, it's clear that finding a job and a place to live in Grizzly Ridge's off-season is going to be harder than I thought. Tourism doesn't pick up until late spring, and most businesses run with minimal staff through the winter.
I'm staring at the phone, wondering who else I can call, when a truck pulls into the driveway. My heart jumps, thinking Elias is back early, but it's a sheriff's department vehicle instead.
Sawyer McKenna.
I've met the sheriff before, of course. He and Dad were friends too, though not as close as Dad and Elias. Still, his unexpected arrival sends a spike of anxiety through me.
Has Brad filed charges? Claimed I attacked him? It would be just like him to twist the story.
I open the door before Sawyer can knock, trying for a casual smile. "Sheriff McKenna. What brings you up the mountain?"
Sawyer looks exactly like his brothers, tall, broad-shouldered, with those penetrating blue eyes that seem to be a McKenna family trait. The silver at his temples is the only thing that distinguishes him from Elias at a distance.
"Miss Hart." He tips his hat slightly. "Didn't expect to find you here."
"Just...visiting." The lie feels obvious, but I don't know what else to say.
Sawyer's gaze drops to my wrist, where the bruise is clearly visible. His expression doesn't change, but something cold enters his eyes. "That so?"
I resist the urge to hide my arm behind my back. "Is there something I can help you with, Sheriff? Elias is out doing the wildlife count."
"I know. I'm the one who approved his schedule." He studies me a moment longer. "Mind if I come in? Got something to discuss with you."
My stomach drops, but I step aside. Sawyer enters, sweeping the cabin with a practiced eye before settling his hat on the counter. He doesn't sit, and neither do I.
"Brad Cooper filed a report this morning," he says without preamble. "Claims you assaulted him."
There it is. Exactly what I feared. "Did he mention the part where he grabbed me first? Or threw my things out the window?"
"He mentioned you were having a disagreement about household expenses. Said things got heated, but he never laid a hand on you." Sawyer's tone is neutral, professional. "Says you attacked him without provocation."
I hold up my wrist, making sure he gets a good look at the fingerprint bruises. "Does this look like 'never laid a hand on me' to you?"
Something flickers in Sawyer's eyes, anger, maybe, though not directed at me. "No, ma'am, it doesn't."
"He grabbed me. I defended myself." I meet his gaze steadily. "I'd do it again."
"I'm sure you would." A hint of approval crosses his features. "Cooper's father is pressuring me to bring you in for questioning."
My blood runs cold. The Coopers own half the businesses in town, including the hunting outfitter where Brad works. They've got influence, money, connections, everything I don't.
"And are you? Bringing me in?" I lift my chin, channeling every ounce of my father's stubbornness.
Sawyer studies me for a long moment. "Wasn't planning on it. Just came to let you know what's brewing. Thought you might want to file a counter-report. For the record."
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. "You believe me."
"I believe those bruises weren't self-inflicted. And I know Brad Cooper's reputation with women." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. "This is the number for a good friend of mine in Helena. Domestic violence counselor. Might be worth talking to her."
I take the card, surprising myself when tears spring to my eyes. "Thank you."
Sawyer nods, retrieving his hat. "Does Elias know?"
"About Brad grabbing me? Yes. About the report? Not yet." I wrap my arms around myself. "I didn't exactly plan this, you know. Coming here."
"I'd say it was exactly the right move." Sawyer heads for the door. "Cooper won't try anything while you're up here. McKenna land has a certain... reputation."
"So I've heard."
He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "One more thing, Miss Hart."
"Riley, please."
"Riley, then." His expression turns serious. "My brother’s a good man. One of the best."
I'm not sure where he's going with this. "I know that."
"He made a promise to your father." Sawyer holds my gaze. "The kind a man like Elias doesn't break easily."
Understanding dawns. He knows . Maybe all the McKennas know, about the way Elias looks at me, about the way I feel. Maybe it's been obvious to everyone but us.
"I know that too," I say quietly.
Sawyer nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Just so we're clear."
As he leaves, I sink onto the couch, staring at the business card in my hand. The sheriff of Grizzly Ridge just basically gave me a shovel talk, but not the kind I expected. Not "stay away from him," but "understand what you're asking him to give up."
The thing is, I do understand. I've seen the way Elias carries his promises like physical weights. The way he shoulders burdens without complaint. The way he puts everyone else's needs before his own.
But I've also seen the hunger in his eyes when he looks at me. The way his control slips, just for a moment, before he reins himself back in.
And I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, some promises need to be broken.