Despite everything, I laugh. A genuine laugh that feels foreign in my throat but right in my chest. In that moment, I see what I've been fighting: not just desire, but happiness. The possibility of joy I'd convinced myself I didn't deserve.
"You'll be the death of me, Riley Hart." I brush a strand of hair from her face, memorizing every detail of this moment.
"Maybe." Her eyes sparkle with mischief and something deeper, more serious. "But isn’t that how you’d want to go?"
She rises on tiptoes to press her lips to mine again, and I'm lost. Lost in the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her body against mine, the certainty that I've crossed a line I swore never to cross.
And finding, to my surprise, that I don't regret it at all.
Dawn breaks gradually, painting the mountains in hues of pink and gold. I've been awake for hours, watching the slow transformation of night to day, Riley's sleeping form curled against my side on the couch where we spent the remainder of the night.
We didn't go further than kisses, heated, desperate kisses that tested every ounce of my control, but kisses nonetheless. Some line I couldn't yet cross, despite her willingness. Some final barrier of honor or guilt I haven't fully dismantled.
She stirs against me, eyelids fluttering as she joins the waking world. For a moment, confusion clouds her features. Then memory returns, and she smiles up at me with such open happiness that it steals my breath.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.
"Morning." I brush hair from her face, allowing myself the luxury of touching her freely. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in months." She stretches like a cat, unself-conscious in her movements. "Though this couch isn't exactly built for two people. Especially when one of them is your size."
The casual intimacy of her words, her touch, sends warmth spreading through me. I've spent so long denying myself this closeness that its sudden presence feels like stepping into sunlight after years in shadow.
"Next time we'll find a better arrangement." The promise slips out before I can censor it.
Riley's eyes brighten. "Next time?"
I should backtrack, should remind us both of all the reasons this is complicated. But the joy in her expression makes it impossible to regret my words.
"If you want there to be a next time," I say, suddenly uncharacteristically uncertain.
Her answer is to kiss me. "I want all the times, Elias. However many we can get."
The simple declaration hits me harder than any passionate profession could have. She knows the obstacles we face. Yet she chooses this. Chooses me.
"We need to talk about what this means," I say when we break apart. "About Cooper. About what people will say."
Riley sighs, settling more comfortably against me. "I know. But can we just have this morning first? Before reality crashes back in?"
I should insist on addressing the complications immediately, on setting boundaries and making plans. The soldier in me, the protector, demands preparation and strategy.
But the man in me, the one who's held himself apart for too long, can't deny her this moment of peace.
"We can have the morning," I agree, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But after breakfast, we talk. About everything."
"Deal." She smiles, then glances at the kitchen. "Think you can manage eggs without burning them, or should I handle breakfast?"
The teasing note in her voice, so natural and easy, surprises a laugh from me. "I can manage eggs. Though I'm better at field rations than home cooking."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." She sits up, stretching again. "I'll make coffee while you prove your culinary skills."
We move around the kitchen together, establishing a rhythm that feels both new and strangely familiar. I crack eggs into a bowl while she grinds beans for coffee. Our bodies brush as we navigate the small space, each touch sending electricity through me.
It's domestic in a way my life hasn't been in decades, if ever. The simple pleasure of preparing a meal with someone else, of quiet conversation and shared space, feels like a revelation.
I'm sliding toast onto plates when the sound of tires on gravel reaches us. We both freeze, listening as a vehicle approaches the cabin.
"Expecting someone?" Riley asks, tension returning to her stance.
"No." I move to the window, peering through the blinds. Relief floods me when I recognize the sheriff's department SUV. "It's Sawyer."
The relief is short-lived as I register what my brother's early morning visit might mean. Sawyer doesn't make social calls, especially not at dawn. His appearance can only signify trouble.
Riley reads my expression. "What's wrong?"
"Not sure yet. Stay here."
I step onto the porch as Sawyer exits his vehicle, noting immediately the grim set of his features. Something's happened. Something bad enough to bring the sheriff up the mountain at first light.
"Morning," I greet him, bracing for whatever news he brings.
Sawyer cuts straight to the point, voice pitched low. "Cooper's filing for a restraining order against Riley. Claims she's been harassing him, threatening him."
Cold anger settles in my gut. "That's bullshit."
"Of course it is. But his daddy's got the mayor's ear, and the mayor's leaning on Judge Harmon." Sawyer's eyes are hard. "There's more. Derek Cooper's been released. His father posted bail first thing this morning."
"On what grounds?"
"Claimed they were legally hunting on Cooper property that borders national forest." My brother's disgust is evident. "Judge bought it, despite the illegal weapons we found. Or pretended to."
Pieces click into place in my mind, Cooper's threats, his cousin's release, the restraining order. It's not random harassment. It's a coordinated effort to isolate Riley, to cut off her support systems, to make her vulnerable.
"There's one more thing," Sawyer adds, studying my face carefully. "Cooper's claiming Riley's staying with you because you two are involved. Romantically. Has been suggesting to anyone who'll listen that it started before she was legal."
The accusation, so calculated and vile, sends rage surging through me. In an instant, I'm transported back to combat zones where rules and laws meant nothing, where survival depended on strength and will alone.
"I'll kill him," I say, voice deadly calm.
Sawyer's hand lands on my shoulder, restraining. "No, you won't. That's exactly what they want. You lose your temper, they have grounds to move against you too."
He's right, damn him. Cooper's playing a game, using the system he knows so well to isolate Riley, to push me into a reaction that will discredit us both.
"What's the plan?" I ask, forcing my mind to strategy rather than violence.
"For now? Keep your head down. I'm working on getting the restraining order denied, but it'll take time. Meanwhile," He pauses, eyes shifting to something behind me.
I turn to find Riley standing in the doorway, face pale but composed. How much she's heard, I can't tell, but enough to understand the situation.
"Meanwhile," she says, voice steady, "Brad gets to control the narrative. Make me look like the crazy ex. Paint Elias as some kind of predator."
Sawyer's expression softens slightly. "Pretty much. But it won't stick. Not in Grizzly Ridge."
"You don't know Brad," Riley counters. "He's charming when he wants to be. Convincing. And his family has influence."
"So do the McKennas," Sawyer reminds her. "And we've been here a lot longer than the Coopers."
I study Riley, seeing the strain beneath her composed exterior. The shadows under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. She's been through too much already.
"We'll fight it," I say, decision made. "On our terms. Not his."
Determination flashes in her eyes, that same stubborn courage that's defined her since childhood. "How?"
"First, we document everything. The bruises, Cooper's visit yesterday, his cousin's presence on my property." I look to Sawyer. "Then we file our own restraining order. With evidence."
My brother nods, approving. "Already prepared the paperwork. We can file today."
"And what about the other accusations?" Riley asks, the question hanging heavy between us.
I meet her gaze, knowing we've reached a crossroads. What happened between us last night, the confession, the kisses, the promise of more, is still new, fragile. Cooper's accusations have forced our hand, pushed us to define something we've barely begun to explore.
"We tell the truth," I say finally. "Nothing happened before you were of age. Nothing happened while Bill was alive. What's between us now is nobody's business but ours."
She studies me for a long moment, then nods, decision made. "Okay. Let's fight."
Sawyer looks between us, understanding dawning in his eyes. To his credit, he doesn't comment on the obvious shift in our relationship, just says, "Be at my office by noon. We'll get everything filed. And Elias?"
"Yeah?"
"Watch your back. Cooper's got friends in this town. The kind who don't mind bending rules if the price is right."
As my brother leaves, I turn to Riley, taking in the determined set of her jaw, and the fire in her eyes. Despite everything, I feel a surge of pride. She's facing this head-on, unbroken by Cooper's attempts to intimidate her.
"I'm sorry," I tell her. "This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. People using your connection to me against you."
Riley steps forward, taking my hand in a gesture that feels both defiant and reassuring. "I'm not."
"Not what?"
"Sorry." Her eyes hold mine, unwavering. "I made my choice, Elias. Last night. This morning. I'll make it again tomorrow. Cooper doesn't get to dictate my life anymore. And neither does anyone else."
The certainty in her voice, and strength in her slender frame reminds me so much of her father. Bill Hart never backed down from a fight that mattered, never abandoned someone who needed him.
In that moment, I make a decision of my own. Cooper thinks he can use our relationship against us? Fine. Let him try. But I won't hide what I feel for Riley. Won't pretend it's something shameful or wrong.
"Come here," I say, pulling her against me. She comes willingly, fitting perfectly against my chest as my arms wrap around her. "Whatever happens, we face it together."
"Together," she agrees, face tilted up to mine. "That's the only way this works."
I kiss her, there on my porch where anyone could see. A declaration. A promise. A choice.
Let Cooper come. Let the town talk. Let the past haunt us.
None of it matters. Not when Riley Hart looks at me like I'm the answer to every question she's ever asked.