Page 106 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

He’d gone through my things. Read my private thoughts. Learned about my feelings before I’d chosen to tell him.

“You did,” I said.

His hands twitched at his sides. “I’m sorry. Terribly sorry. I keep messing things up, don’t I?”

I wanted to stay angry. But the raw, afraid look on his face made it harder.

“I would’ve told you eventually,” I said quietly. “When I was ready.”

“I should’ve trusted that you’d share when you wanted to. Or not, if that was how you felt. I truly am sorry.”

The apology was real. He wasn’t defensive or deflecting. Just being honest.

“Why didn’t you ask?” I asked, curious now instead of upset.

“Because asking meant risking a no.” He nodded slowly. “And I’ve spent my entire life being told no in ways that didn’t require asking. My parents’ no was in their silence. In their absence. They held me to standards I couldn’t see and found me lacking before I’d even tried.”

Heat flushed my skin.

“So when I saw your notebook,” he said, “I took instead of asking. Because taking meant I’d know. And knowing meant I could stop pretending this was just for the scribe. That you were only here to help me pass.”

I studied his face. The tension in his jaw. The way his hands had curled at his sides like he was bracing for me to leave.

He’d violated my trust, yes. But he’d done it because he was terrified of losing something that mattered. That was different from Derek’s careless assumptions. Different from someone who’d never bothered to notice in the first place.

“My ex never asked either,” I said slowly, working through the distinction as I spoke.

“I want to be better than him. So much better. I promise not to take from you again. I’ll ask and I’ll wait for you to choose what you share.”

The honesty in his voice made my insides unravel.

“Derek just assumed I’d be fine with whatever he chose to do or say. I didn’t need anything because I never said I did. I let him control everything because at least being needed felt like being wanted.”

Traig’s expression cracked.

“But you’re not him,” I said. “You noticed before I asked. You paid attention to what I wanted, not just what I could do for you. Until you didn’t. How do I know the next time you’re scared or uncertain, you won’t go through my things to find answers instead of asking me?”

“You don’t.” The answer was honest. “You can’t know. Not for certain. But I’m asking you to trust me anyway. To let me prove I can wait. That I can ask instead of take.”

I waited until his eyes met mine. “I’m not saying no.”

His breath hitched.

“I’m still here,” I said. “My things sit beside yours all over this house. I’m still choosing you. I’m still falling for you. But I’m telling you now, out loud, because I want you to hear it from me. Not from words I wrote when I was alone.”

“I’m falling for you too,” he said.

The words settled between us. This wasn’t quite forgiveness but something close. An understanding that we were both learning how to choose each other instead of protecting ourselves.

He’d taken something he shouldn’t have. But he’d also been honest about why. And he’d listened when I told him it was wrong.

That counted.

The door opened, and the scribe stepped inside. “I’m waiting.”

Traig got up and took the dishes to the sink. We could wash them later.

We gathered our things. I grabbed my notebook from the kitchen table and stuffed it into my tote bag.