Page 4 of Thankful for My Orc
“It’s different for you, sir,” I say carefully. “You’re the Chief. You’ve proven yourself.”
“And what exactly do you think you’ve been doing for the past six months?” Brokka crosses his arms, giving me the look that means he’s about to make this a teaching moment. “Every call we’ve been on, every life you’ve helped save, every time you’ve put someone else’s safety before your own—what do you call that?”
“My job.”
“Wrong answer.” His voice gets an edge that reminds everyone why he’s in charge. “That’s proof, Forge. Proof that you’re exactly the kind of male any smart female would be lucky to have.”
Kam looks up from where he’s been cleaning his equipment. “Chief’s right. Besides, worst-case scenario, you spend a few hours making conversation and go home alone. Best case?” He grins. “You meet someone who sees past the tusks to the male underneath.”
“Easy for you to say,” I protest. “You’re already mated.”
“Wasn’t always,” Kam points out. “My mate, Emma, took one look at me and nearly ran the other direction. She says one more 2 AM joke in bed, and I’ll be playing the couch circuit.”
The other guys laugh, but I can hear the affection in Kam’s voice when he talks about his mate. It’s the same tone Chief Brokka uses when he mentions Marissa, the same way Thrall’s voice softens whenever Amelia’s name comes up.
Maybe that’s what I’m really afraid of. Not that no one will want me, but that I’ll find someone who might, and then she’ll realize I’m just a rookie who’s spent twenty-five years on Earth but only six months finding my place in this firehouse. What if she discovers that for all my skill with wood and tools, I still feel like I’m playing catch-up with everyone else who seems to have figured out how to belong somewhere?
“Look,” Kam says, dropping the joking tone for once. “Nobody’s saying you have to find your soulmate tonight. But you’ve been on this crew six months, and the only humans you’ve talked to are the ones we’ve rescued. That’s not exactly a representative sample.”
“And,” Thrall adds, “we all made a deal. You get through tonight without running away, and the rookie hazing stops. Forever.”
That gets my attention. The hazing isn’t malicious, but it’s gotten old. Being the newest guy on the crew means I get the worst shifts, the messiest cleanups, and constant reminders that I haven’t quite earned my place yet.
“You’re serious? One night of speed dating and you’ll all leave me alone?”
“Scout’s honor,” Kam says, holding up his hand like that’s supposed to reassure me. “Though I was never actually a scout.”
His expression turns almost wistful as he adds, “You never know. Your soulbound mate might walk through that door tonight.”
“Soulbonds are rare,” I counter. “The elders always said most orcs never meet theirs.”
“True. But Chief Brokka found Marissa. My Emma walked into my life when I least expected it. Thrall’s got his Amelia now. Even Thornn, who thought he was too broken to live, let alone love, found Sarah. Durga rescued Raisa. Hell, Grum, the ultimate Grinch of all time, now sings Christmas carols thanks to finding his Joy.”
Kam’s grin returns. “That’s six of us, seven if you include Ashok who was the very first of all of us to find his soulbound. There’s something special about these Earth females. Maybe the Goddess has someone waiting for you, too.”
I don’t let myself believe in that kind of good fortune. Soulbonds—the deep, permanent connection between two people that the elders speak of in hushed, reverent tones—those are for males who deserve them. Males who’ve proven themselves. Not rookies who are still finding their place.
But I don’t say that out loud. Instead, I just shake my head. “I’d settle for getting through tonight without embarrassing myself.”
The truth is, my friends aren’t wrong about my social isolation. Six months on this crew, and I can count my meaningful conversations with humans on one hand.
But outside of those moments? I keep to myself. I go home to my small apartment filled with furniture I’ve made with my own hands, and I work on my latest project while trying not to think about how quiet it gets in the evenings. Wood I get. People… not so much.
“Besides,” Thrall adds, “Ryder’s going to be there. You won’t be the only one who’d rather be anywhere else.”
Ryder. Our quiet, competent colleague, who keeps to himself even more than I do. If he’s willing to show up tonight, maybe I can manage it too.
“Fine,” I hear myself saying. “But if this goes badly, I’m blaming all of you.”
“Fair enough,” Chief Brokka says. “Now go get cleaned up. The mixer starts in two hours, and you smell like smoke and engine grease.”
As I head toward the locker room, I can hear them making bets behind me about whether I’ll actually show up or find some excuse to bail at the last minute. The smart money seems to be on me developing a sudden case of food poisoning.
But I won’t run. Whatever happens tonight, I’ll see it through. Even if the thought of making small talk with human women makes my palms sweat more than they do before a fire call.
I strip out of my gear and head for the showers, trying to convince myself that this is just another kind of emergency call. Show up, do the job, go home.
The hot water helps wash away the smoke smell, but it doesn’t do much for my nerves. The faint scent of engine grease, wet turnout, and scorched drywall clings to my skin no matter how hard I scrub.
