Page 70 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

“Then why do you look worn out?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, but I won’t push.” She stood. “I’m going to find Fred.” She paused in the doorway and looked back. “Whatever this new thing is you’re dealing with, you don’t have to do it alone. You know that, right?”

I couldn’t pull in a full breath.

“I appreciate that,” I said.

She smiled and left.

I sat in the conference room with her cookies on the table and my tablet full of work I couldn’t focus on. Finally, I got up, went to my office, and worked. Focusing my mind on something else helped. It wasn’t until silence echoed inside the building that I realized the sun had set and everyone else had gone.

The scribe would arrive in two days, and I still had no idea what I was going to do.

Rising, I made myself go home and eat something I didn’t taste.

After, I sat on my couch and stared at the wall while the moon rose and skated across the sky.

I rose, got into my truck, and drove to her apartment. I couldn’t stay away.

I sat in my truck outside her building on Main Street for a long time.

Five minutes became ten. Ten became fifteen.

Every light in her building was off except for one window on the second floor. Hers, if I was guessing right. A soft glow behind curtains.

I should go home.

I turned the key and the engine started.

My hand stayed on the key.

I turned it off again.

This was foolish. It was late. She’d be asleep or doing any number of things that didn’t involve a seven-foot orc showing up unannounced because he couldn’t sit alone in his cottage.

I got out of the truck.

The stairs to the second floor creaked under my weight. I moved carefully, which was pointless. There was no version of this where I arrived quietly.

I lifted my hand and knocked on the door.

Footsteps echoed inside the apartment and the lock clicked.

Willa opened the door, wearing soft pants and an oversized shirt, her hair loose around her face. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Traig.”

I couldn’t speak.

All the words I’d prepared on the drive over disappeared.

She looked at my face and stepped back, pulling the door wider. “Come in.”

I walked inside.

I took in her small but warm apartment. Books on every surface. A blanket thrown over the back of the couch. A mug on the table, steam rising from it.