Page 76 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

“And?”

The flatness in his voice made me want to cross the room and shake him. Or hug him.

“They’re adopting both. They rearranged everything. They couldn’t separate them.”

His throat worked before he could answer. “You were right.”

“We were right.”

“You saw it first.”

“And you listened.” I stepped into the office. “That’s what matters. You changed your assessment when the data supported it. You put them first.”

His hands tightened around his tablet. “I almost didn’t.”

The admission hung between us.

“But you did,” I said softly.

He looked at me, fear and exhaustion stark on his face. I’d bet anything he was aching to control something, anything, because his entire life was about to be assessed by someone who didn’t know him at all.

His eyes held mine before he looked away.

Maybe I should demand he let me help him the way he’d let me help the bloombacks. But I couldn’t be his solution. I could only be his choice.

“I should get back to my desk.”

He nodded.

I made it to the doorway before I stopped, my hand on the frame.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t⁠—

I looked back.

He was watching me, his expression naked in a way I’d never seen before.

I left before I could do something foolish like stay.

The afternoon crawled. I processed emails. Updated files. Answered calls.

Fred and Amanda stayed on the counter, Fred’s grumbling a low constant, Amanda’s crown flaring in irregular bursts.

Late in the day, when the building had gone quiet and the sun was starting to sink, I sat back in my chair and studied them.

Amanda had claimed him. He’d claimed her back. And that was that.

No one questioned it or suggested they had to prove anything.

“You two didn’t need permission,” I said quietly. “You just knew.”

Fred’s grumble deepened.

“Must be nice,” I said.

Fred bumped my hand with his head, grumbling lower.

“I know, buddy. I know.”