Page 78 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
As if I needed the ring to remind me. The constant ache in my chest would never let me forget.
On the bus once more, I stared out at the other vehicles on the roadway, at the lights that flashed by. Then, as I always did, I pulled the phone from my pocket and stared at the empty black screen. I’d turned it off while in Chicago, unable to continue seeing the notification of Jordan’s message, and I’d never had the courage to turn it back on. I should have stowed it in my duffle bag with the ring. It wasn’t as if I really needed the device. Jordan was the only one who would text or call besides my teammates who were all on the bus with me. And I hardly needed to use the language application or the internet library with Bwat at hand to cheerfully answer any question.
What if she never wanted to see me again?I swallowed hard, trying not to let the agony of that thought overwhelm me. If that was her text message, I’d just go home to my clan.She was my life-mate. There would be no other for me. Staying and trying to find another bride would be a logical next step, but that woman would never have my heart. It would be unfair to her, and I would feel I was betraying Jordan every time I took another to my furs.
No, if Jordan rejected me, I would return home. Like my father, I would not allow my loss to end my life. I would continue, helping my clan any way I could until I died a natural death. Or maybe a hero’s death in battle.
Stop with that maudlinnonsense.You don’t even know what her message says. You don’t know if she’s tried to call you or sent another message. What if it wasn’t a break-up message, and here you’ve been sulking around with the text unread for a week.
I was Ozar. Guardian of Clan Heregut. Son of Meig and Oala. My future, my fate, was in this small magical box that humans used to transmit knowledge and to communicate across great distances. And Ozar was not an orc to shy away from his fate.
I turned the phone on and waited for the screen to light up. A few seconds later, I was staring at the notification. No missed calls. No additional texts. Just that one sent last week—the message that would seal my fate.
Inhale. Exhale.
I closed my eyes, waiting until my heart rate had returned to a normal pace before opening them to click the notification and read the text.
I’m so sorry. I love you, and your proposal both thrilled and terrified me. I can’t abandon all I’ve worked for and who I am to just be your wife and the mother of your children in a place where I know no one and have no other value. I need to be more.
My heart twisted, and I struggled to breathe. The wordsblurred, and it took a few seconds before I could continue to read.
This isn’t something we can fully discuss a few minutes before you leave for weeks on the road. When you get back, I want to talk about this some more. I love you, and I hope there is a way we can both be happy together forever. Because I do want to marry you. I want to spend my life with you. I’m going to have faith that there’s a way we can work this out.
I’ll be watching and cheering for you. Always.
The whole way to Ohio I thought about the text. There were moments of elation—she hadn’t given up on us. She loved me and seemed confident we could come to a solution. Then there were moments of understanding—she was struggling with the same dilemma I faced. Living in my homeworld meant she’d have to give up a huge part of her identity that brought her joy and fulfillment, that made her Jordan. And by staying, I was afraid I would be giving up the same. Being her husband, her mate, and the father of our orclets…would that be enough? Would I still be Ozar if I had to leave all of my dreams for the future behind?
But the most terrifying part of Jordan’s text was the last bit. She was watching our games. Cheering? Her rooting for me and the Tusks was a small comfort. I was painfully aware that she’d spent a week watching the human teams decimate and humiliate us.
Uncertain what to say, worry that I’d waited too long to reply, and the embarrassment of our losses kept me from texting her back.
The sun was coming up as the transportation beast pulled up to our hotel. We staggered down the steps as humans unloaded our luggage and our demon owner yelled at us about when we needed to be ready to ride to the arena for our practice today and our game tonight.
It was six in the morning, and we were shuffling into the lobby like we’d just returned from a two-week march through the mountains. We were terrible skaters, terrible with the sticks and puck, and in terrible shape. I winced to think of what Jordan would see during tonight’s game.
The same thing she’d seen for the last week, no doubt.
That was what motivated me to quickly change into workout clothes and begin banging on the doors of my teammates and barking at them to dress and be in the lobby by seven-thirty. Humans poked their heads outside their hotel-room doors, initially protesting the noise until they saw me. Then their eyes widened, and they quickly darted back inside, slamming their doors. The sound of chains and bolts quickly followed.
I didn’t care.
Honestly, I did feel a bit guilty that I’d woken all the human guests so early in the morning, but I hadn’t been able to figure out how the plastic hotel communication systems worked, and no one had answered their cell phones.
Those who arrived at the lobby at or before 7:30 were able to have coffee and the offered light breakfast. Those who didn’t had both the front desk staff harassing them on the plastic phones as well as me returning to beat on their doors. Finally, the whole team was assembled, with a good number of human guests as well as staff watching us with curiosity.
“Attention!” I shouted in Orcish with enough volume to startle the humans and snap the orcs’ heads my way. “We will not have a repeat of what happened during the last six games.”
“Seven games,” Bwat corrected. “Actually, all of our games if you’re talking about losing and not just getting our asses handed to us.”
I ignored him. “Our skating and hockey skills require more practice, but one thing we can work on as well is the level of our fitness. You have grown soft and lazy. You are an embarrassment to your clans, your ancestors, and your future descendants. Each morning, we will run and perform acts of strength. And before each game, we will strategize how to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies and keep them from shooting their puck into our net.”
One orc snorted. “Puck. Net.”
I rolled my eyes and switched to English. “Fucking your mother, Mohak. An extra twenty bench lifts for you because you are not serious.”
“No. Ozar, no!” Mohak complained.
I cut him off with a glare. “I am leading the run. Ugwyll will be the tail and will punch anyone who tries to shortcut or cheat.” Ugwyll made a fist and hit his palm at that. I nodded to him. “Let us go.”
