Page 17 of Susie's Orc

We both fall silent, watching the sun set over emerald green hills. Overhead, birds call and lazy clouds drift through the sky, and the faint sounds of mom and dad and Kasey’s voices come from inside the house.

A perfect night.

Here, with my family, in this place that will always be home no matter how much time I spend away from it.

“Alright,” Gemma says, slapping her hands on her knees before she stands. “That’s enough of that. We’ve officially met our heart-to-heart quota for at least the next year. Let’s go see if dad needs help with dinner.”

I stand as well, following her into the kitchen with a light, expansive burst of joy unfurling in my chest. A weight lifted off my shoulders I hadn’t realized I was carrying.

Later in the evening, after we’ve eaten and said our goodnights, we leave Gemma and Kasey to settle into their new home in peace.

My parents have kept their cozy den built into the mountain rather than opting for something more contemporary, and that’s where we head after dinner.

The village is a wonderful mix of past and present, tradition and modern sensibility. On one end, carved into the mountains, dozens of dens filled with families that have histories here going back generations. On the other, a patchwork of new development, homes filled with some of those same legacy families, but also newcomers. Blended homes and new faces, a breath of fresh air to usher in a whole new era after the Acts were passed.

Mom and dad turn in early, dad grumbling all the while about how he’s too damn old for manual labor, and mom giving him an indulgent smile because she knows just as well as the restof us that when it comes to his family, there’s no favor too big and no help he wouldn’t give.

It leaves me alone, and after taking a shower I wander back to my childhood room, a small chamber cut off a short corridor leading from the main part of the den.

It’s strange to be back here, in this space that feels so much smaller than it used to when I was a kid.

Stranger still is lounging across my bed strewn with its soft mattress and furs, closing my eyes for a moment and reflecting on a whole life that I couldn’t even imagine existing when I left here to make my way into the world.

My mind drifts to Seattle, to the Bureau, and, inevitably, to Susie.

A big, dopey grin spreads across my face when I think about that evening in her apartment, our conversation at the Bureau, where we left things and where things might go when I get back.

I’m finally getting somewhere with the woman of my dreams. I have a date with her on Friday, and I’ll be damned if I’m not prouder of myself for that than I’ve ever been of anything in my life.

Still, I’m not sure what the rules are here. I’ve been aching to text her for the last couple days—or better yet, call her—but I don’t know if that would be weird.

After all, besides what happened at her apartment and that kiss we shared in the supply closet, I barely know Susie. I’ve been too much of a godsdamned coward to work up the nerve to talk to her beyond asking her questions about her expense reports and occasionally saying hi in the breakroom, so I have no idea if reaching out to her now would come across as… too much.

I don’t want to rush things, and I don’t want to scare her off, but the longer I sit in the silence, the harder and harder it becomes to deny that urge.

An echo of what I felt last Friday afternoon. An undeniable tug. An instinct calling me toward her.

And after everything Gemma and I talked about, I’m feeling a renewed surge of confidence. After so many years chickening out and beating myself up and not having the courage, maybe it’s long past time I stepped it up and let Susie know what my intentions are here.

Besides, it’s just a text. One text. I’ll send her one casual text, just to let her know I’m thinking of her. If she doesn’t respond, no biggie. It’s evening back in Seattle and she might be busy, anyway.

Even with all those excuses and cop-outs running through my head, I can’t stop the swell of anticipation—of hope—as I reach for my phone and type out a message.

Chapter 8

Susie

On Wednesday night, my phone lights up with a new message from Jonah.

This week has been excruciatingly long already, with the promise of Friday never far from my mind. It’s been downright distracting, and even though we exchanged numbers before going our separate ways on Monday—something Jonah rightfully pointed out could have saved us a lot of angst and misunderstanding if we’d had the foresight to do it before he left my place Friday—I’ve so far refrained from texting him.

But just as I’m about to curl up in bed and reach for the book I checked out from the library this afternoon, a buzzing from my bedside table catches my attention.

I’m surprised, but not disappointed in the slightest when I look over at my phone and see his name on the screen.

Hey! How’s your week going?

Smiling, I text back immediately, not caring at all that I’m outing myself as eager and completely uncool.Hi you. Could be better.

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