"You're back early," she says as I approach, shutting her laptop. "Everything okay?"
"Sawyer radioed me." I drop my pack by the door, studying her face. "Told me about Cooper's report."
Her smile fades. "I was going to tell you tonight. Didn't want to interrupt your work."
"This is more important." I sit beside her on the step, close enough to smell her shampoo but careful to leave space between us. "Show me your wrist."
She hesitates, then extends her arm. The bruises have darkened since last night, perfect finger-shaped marks against her pale skin. I take her hand gently, turning it to examine the full extent of the damage.
"I'm going to kill him." The words come out low and deadly serious.
Riley's fingers curl around mine. "No, you're not. Much as I appreciate the sentiment."
"He deserves worse."
"What he deserves is for me to press charges and watch him squirm when his daddy can't buy his way out of it." Her voice hardens. "I'm not letting him get away with this, Elias. But I'm handling it my way."
That stubborn determination, so like her father's, brings a reluctant smile to my lips. "Bill would be proud of you."
"Would he?" She doesn't release my hand. "Sometimes I wonder what he'd think of me now. Twenty-three, broke, homeless, failed relationship behind me..."
"He'd think you're brave," I say without hesitation. "Standing up for yourself. Not letting anyone, not Brad, not his father, intimidate you."
She studies me for a long moment. "And what do you think, Elias?"
The question feels loaded, heavy with meaning beyond the obvious. What do I think of her? I think she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I think her courage takes my breath away. I think that if I were twenty years younger, or she twenty years older, I wouldn't hesitate to claim her as mine.
"I think," I say carefully, "that you deserve better than what Cooper gave you. Better than living in a town where his familyhas influence. Better than..." I stop, the words sticking in my throat.
"Better than what?" Her eyes hold mine, refusing to let me look away.
"Better than an old man with too many scars and too many ghosts." The confession slips out despite my best intentions.
Riley's grip on my hand tightens. "You're not old."
"I'm forty-six."
"I'm aware of your age." She shifts closer, her knee brushing mine. "I'm also aware that you've been avoiding being alone with me since I came back to town. That you look at me when you think I won't notice. That whenever we're in the same room, you find a reason to leave."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "Riley?—"
"I get it, you know," she continues, voice softening. "The promise you made to Dad. The responsibility you feel. But he didn't ask you to stop living, Elias. He just asked you to protect me."
"And you think this," I gesture between us, "would protect you?"
"I think," she says carefully, echoing my words, "that I stopped needing protection a long time ago. What I need now is for someone to see me. Not as Bill Hart's little girl. Not as some kid you taught to fish. But as a woman who knows her own mind."
She's so close I can see the gold flecks in her green eyes, can count the freckles dusting her nose. If I leaned forward just a few inches, I could taste her lips, discover if they're as soft as they look.
Instead, I pull my hand from hers and stand, putting the distance back between us. "It's not that simple."
"It could be." She looks up at me, disappointment plain on her face. "If you'd let it."
"I can't." The words hurt like broken glass in my throat. "You're half my age, Riley. Your father trusted me to look after you, not?—"
"Not what?" she challenges. "Not want me? Not give in to something we've both been feeling for years?"
"You don't know what you're asking." I turn away, needing to escape those knowing eyes. "I'll help you with Cooper. I'll give you a place to stay until you figure things out. But that's all I can offer."
