Page 25 of Thankful for My Orc
“You’re a good man, I mean male, Forge. You deserve someone who can give you what you’re looking for. But that’s not me. I’m not ready for this. I doubt I ever will be.”
“Jordan, wait—”
“No.” I force myself to look at him then, to see the damage I’m causing. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. Last night was… it was wonderful. It was the most intense, incredible night of my life, and that’s what scares me. I don’t trust feelings this strong after knowing someone for two days. It can never happen again.” That last sentence was said with all the vehemence I could muster.
He’s quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he’s trying to read a language he doesn’t understand. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled.
“Is this about your ex-husband?”
The question hits close to home, and I flinch. “This is about me knowing my own limitations. You and I want different things.”
“What is it you think I want?”
“Something I can’t give you.” I fist my trembling hands at my sides.
“Then what was this?” There’s an edge to his voice now, hurt bleeding through his measured restraint as he points to the bed with a swipe. “Just a hookup? Because that’s not how it felt to me.”
It didn’t feel like that to me either, I want to say. More like something I’ve been searching for my entire life. Everything I’ve been afraid to want. But that’s exactly the problem. Instead, I remain silent.
His voice cracks on the next words, quiet but devastating. “Jordan, this sure didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, and flee his apartment like the coward I am.
When I get home, I stumble over the threshold, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and lean against the closed door.
David’s voice echoes in my head: “You’ll never put anyone before your work.” Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m incapable of the kind of balance a relationship needs.
The worst part is, David said it to hurt me. But Forge? Forge looked at me like I was something precious, something worth protecting, and I still ran.
I push off from the door and head straight for my home office. If I’m going to be alone, at least I can be productive.
Three hours later, I’m sitting at my desk, still wearing yesterday’s dress, staring at my phone as it buzzes with his messages.
Forge:Are you okay? We should talk about what happened.
Forge:Jordan, please. I know you’re scared, but we can work through this.
Forge:I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.
Each message is patient and understanding, everything I don’t deserve after the way I just gutted him. Which only makes this whole situation worse, because a lesser man would have called me crazy and moved on by now. But not Forge. No, he has to be perfect and patient and exactly the kind of man I dreamed of before I was hurt and betrayed and decided to guard my heart forever.
The knock on my door comes at exactly 10:00 AM, followed immediately by the jingle of keys and Riley’s voice. “I’m coming in, and I’m bringing coffee that doesn’t suck!”
I don’t even have the energy to tell her to go away. When I meet her near the front door, she’s dressed like an avenging angel in designer workout clothes, carrying a couple of coffees from Maxx’s downtown and wearing the expression that means she’s prepared for an intervention.
“You look like hell,” she announces, setting the coffee on my counter and taking in my appearance—yesterday’s dress wrinkled beyond salvation, smeared mascara, hair that looks like I’ve been thoroughly fucked. Which I have.
“Good morning to you, too,” I mutter, avoiding her eyes.
“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me. I’ve been texting you since six last night. You had a coffee date yesterday morning and have been radio silent since then. Where have you been for the last twenty-four hours? That’s not like you. I was an hour away from filing amissing person’s report.” She pulls out the chair across from me and sits down with the kind of determination that suggests she’s not leaving until she gets answers.
The concern in her voice almost breaks me. Riley has been my rock through every disaster in my adult life—my parents’ divorce, law school stress, my marriage imploding, and the aftermath of David’s betrayal. She’s seen me at my absolute worst and somehow still shows up with coffee and unconditional support.
“I slept with him,” I say flatly, the words falling into the kitchen like stones into still water.
Riley’s eyebrows shoot up, but to her credit, she doesn’t immediately launch into commentary. “Okay. And?”
“And I probably shouldn’t even mention it was the best sex of my life. By far.” I avoid her eyes as I force out the rest of the story like word vomit. “This morning, I panicked and told him it was a mistake, that we barely know each other. I basically burned everything to the ground.”
