Page 14 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

Maybe they had.

The Creature Rescue League had offered me a way out, a place built on what I chose rather than what I owed.

My parents hadn’t fought my leaving. They’d stopped returning my messages within a month of my arrival here. Forgiveness had never been an option. I’d stopped expecting it by the time my adult tusks grew in.

The five of us had rescued each other as much as we rescued creatures.

This was the first place I’d ever felt like I could be myself.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling again.

The second chair at my kitchen table was still empty. I’d bought it when I moved in because tables came with two chairs and it seemed silly to refuse one. I’d never questioned it before.

Now I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I threw off the blanket and got up, padding into the kitchen. The tablet sat on the counter where I’d left it, still plugged in, the screen dark. I picked it up and opened my task list.

The cursor blinked at the bottom of tomorrow’s entries.

My fingertip hovered over the screen.

I set the tablet down and went back to bed.

Sleep, when it finally came, felt thin and unsatisfying.

I dreamed of filing systems that messed themselves up when I wasn’t looking.

CHAPTER THREE

WILLA

The weekend before I'd started had vanished in a flurry of moving boxes, and now, one day into the job, Tuesday morning found me more than ready to dive back in.

The day started with two cups of strong coffee and a decision I made without thinking hard about it. The phone message pad sat on the reception desk where I’d left it, next to the stapler, which had been lined up beside the tape dispenser, which neighbored a tray of pens that had been organized by color. Someone had strong feelings about organization, and I had a good idea who that person might be.

I moved the message pad to the left, closer to the phone, where I could take down notes during calls. Where I could use it instead of having to reach across the desk like I was playing office supply Twister.

I booted up the computer and logged in.

The front door opened.

Traig stepped inside, holding his tablet, his hair tied back in the same knot at his nape as yesterday, his midnight eyes scanning the room.

Spying me, he walked over and stopped at the counter opposite where I sat, his gaze taking in me and the desk in general.

His eyes landed on the message pad, and his lips twitched.

“Good morning,” I said, aiming for breezy.

“Good morning.”

He set his tablet down on the counter and frowned at the message pad. Without a word, he moved it back to its original position.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

His eyes met mine before he lifted his tablet.

“Ready for day two?” he asked.