Page 10 of Orc Me, Maybe

“She’s fine,” Julie says before I can ask. “Back with her bugs.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“She just wanted to be heard.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do.”

That gives me pause. I narrow my eyes.

“She’s grieving too,” Julie says, stacking papers. “And she’s eight. She doesn’t have emails to bury herself in.”

“I’m not burying?—”

She looks up. Cuts me off with her stare alone.

I sigh. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“I know you didn’t. But you did.”

There’s a silence between us. Not cold. Not angry. Just… heavy.

“You’re doing the best you can,” she says, softer now. “But sometimes, the best thing isn’t building a perfect camp. It’s letting her feel like she matters more than the next blueprint.”

I drag a hand down my face. “I don’t know how to do this part.”

“Then let her teach you,” she says. “She’s got a lot to say.”

I look at her for a long moment. The woman I hired to be a secretary is looking at me like sheknowsme. Not the public-facing businessman. Not the guy with perfect balance sheets.Me.

And I don’t hate it.

I nod once.

“Thanks,” I say again.

“You say that a lot.”

“Means I mean it.”

Julie smiles, just a little. “Then maybe next time, listen to her playground pitch.”

I smirk. “Only if you sit in on the next budget call.”

Her smile widens. “Deal.”

CHAPTER 5

JULIE

It starts with a phone call.

Torack’s eyes flick to his vibrating phone like it’s trying to ruin his life on purpose, which, honestly, it probably is. The guy juggles more chaos in one afternoon than most people do in a year.

We’re outside near the half-built amphitheater—well, “amphitheater” is generous. It’s a circle of logs and some marked-off stones that might someday become a firepit. Lillian’s poking at a pile of sticks like she’s deciding which ones are worthy of combustion.

“Can you keep an eye on her?” Torack asks, already pulling the phone to his ear.

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