Page 14 of Thankful for My Orc
“But the thing is, he was having an affair the entire last year of our marriage. So maybe my focus on work was more of a symptom than a cause.”
“Or maybe,” Forge says quietly, “he was looking for an excuse to justify his own choices.”
The words hit with a clarity I can’t dodge. Not because it’s harsh, but because they name the truth I’ve been too afraid to face.
“Riley’s hinted at the same thing,” I admit. “But it’s hard to know what to believe when someone you trusted with your future turns out to be lying about everything.”
“That must have been devastating.”
There’s no judgment in his voice, no attempt to fix or minimize what I’ve been through. Just acknowledgment, and somehow that’s more comforting than all of Riley’s well-meaning reassurances.
“Itwasdevastating. But you know what the worst part was? Not the betrayal, not even the divorce proceedings. It was realizingthat I’d been so focused on trying to be the perfect wife and successful lawyer that I’d lost track of who I was as a person.”
“And who are you? As a person, I mean.”
The question should be simple, but it isn’t. For so many years, I’ve defined myself in relation to other people—wife, daughter, lawyer, friend. The idea of existing as just Jordan, separate from all those roles, is both terrifying and exhilarating.
“I’m still figuring that out,” I say honestly. “But I know she’s someone who can win a cooking contest with a gentle orc who makes furniture and rescues cats.”
His smile is slow and warm. “I like her already.”
“Even though she’s a cynical divorce lawyer who never cooks?”
“Especially because of that.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and I realize something has shifted. The careful walls I’ve spent eighteen months building around my heart have developed a crack, and instead of terrifying me, it feels like I can finally breathe properly.
“Your turn,” I say. “Tell me something real about you.”
He considers this, turning his tiny cup in slow circles on the table. “I’ve been on this crew for six months, and I still feel like I’m trying to prove I belong there.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the rookie. Because I’m still learning. Because some days I wonder if I’m good enough to do this job that’s come to mean everything to me.”
His honesty surprises me. Most men I know would never admit to professional insecurity, especially not on a first date.
“You seem pretty competent to me. You certainly knew what you were doing in that kitchen last night.”
“Cooking bacon is different from running into a burning building.”
“Is it? Both require staying calm under pressure, making quick decisions, and working as part of a team.” I lean forward slightly. “Plus, I saw how the other firefighters treat you. They don’t act like you’re just some rookie they’re stuck with. They treat you like family.”
Something shifts in his expression, like he’s seeing something from a new angle. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to see other people’s strengths than our own.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Let’s just say I have a lot of practice.”
His phone buzzes, and he glances at it with a frown. “I’m sorry. It’s the station. I should—”
“Take it,” I say, already recognizing the look of someone whose job doesn’t respect normal hours.
He answers quickly, his expression growing serious as he listens. “How bad? Okay, I’ll be right there. I’m just across the street.”
He hangs up and looks at me apologetically. “There’s a fire at one of the apartment complexes. All hands.”
