Page 63 of Thankful for My Orc
“This is incredible,” I tell Brokka as I try to fit a little bit of everything on my plate. “It’s like a cultural lesson you can eat.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Marissa says warmly. “At the first Thanksgiving here in the Zone, people were still so separated. Humans ate human food, orcs ate orcish food, everyone stayed in their lanes. But year by year, the tables started merging. Now look at it.”
She gestures at the spread, at the way dishes from a dozen cultures sit side by side, at the children grabbing food without caring about its origin. “This is what integration really looks like. Not erasing differences, but celebrating them. Together.”
As we settle at the tables with overflowing plates, the conversations shift from gratitude to getting to know each other.
“So, Jordan,” Marissa says as my stomach is beginning to protest, “Forge mentioned you’re a lawyer? What kind of law?”
“Family law. Mostly divorce and custody cases.” I brace myself for the usual responses—jokes about lawyer stereotypes or uncomfortable shifts when people realize I deal professionally with relationship failures.
“She won a big case this week,” Forge adds, and the pride in his voice makes my chest warm. “Against a father who was usingcustody proceedings to maintain control over his ex-wife while having the child stay with random caregivers. Jordan got full custody for the mother and supervised visitation only.”
Brokka nods approvingly. “Important work. Someone has to fight for the people who can’t fight for themselves.”
“Exactly.” I feel myself relaxing into the conversation. “That’s why I do what I do. Even when it’s messy and heartbreaking.”
The conversations flow around us, and I find myself genuinely enjoying the debate about family law and orcish custody traditions with Thrall. We’re deep into discussing communal child-rearing when Forge says something that makes my heart stutter.
“This is why I love you,” he says, his voice soft but carrying clearly in a lull in conversation. “Always ready to fight for what’s right.”
The words hang in the air. I LOVE YOU. Said so naturally, so casually, in front of his entire family.
Every eye at our table turns toward us. My heart pounds, and through our bond I can feel Forge’s certainty, his complete lack of regret for the public declaration.
“I love you too,” I hear myself say, meaning it with every fiber of my being. The words feel right, feel true, feel like the easiest thing I’ve ever said.
Kam breaks the moment with his typical terrible timing. “Well, that was disgustingly sweet. Now can someone pass thekhalvaqbefore I start crying into my turkey?”
The table erupts in laughter, and the moment passes, but I can still feel the weight of what just happened. I didn’t just tell Forge I loved him—I claimed him, publicly and completely, in front of his chosen family.
Forge’s hand finds mine under the table and squeezes gently. Through our bond, I feel his overwhelming joy, his pride, and his love reflecting back at me.
His voice rumbles softly beside me. “You okay?” His eyes hold that molten gleam that makes my pulse trip.
“Better than okay,” I whisper. “You?”
“Feels like my ribs can’t hold it all,” he admits, thumb tracing circles on my hand under the table. “You said it out loud. In front of everyone.”
Before I can answer, Kam’s little daughter Lyssa appears at my elbow, eyes bright. “I wish I could see your glow,” she says matter-of-factly.
I blink, caught off guard. “You mean the soulbond?”
She nods solemnly. “Daddy says I can’t see it because I’m not an orc, but he says you have the red shimmer and that means you’re going to be together forever and ever.”
Something thick rises in my throat. “That’s right,” I manage. “Forever and ever.”
Lyssa grins, pure sunshine. “Good. Uncle Forge has been sad for a really long time. Now he has you to make him happy.”
Forge makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh—or a prayer—and Kam swoops in to scoop his daughter up, murmuring apologies while winking at us. But the look he throws over his shoulder says everything his jokes don’t: approval, pride, family.
Later, as people drift toward dessert and laughter fills the firehouse, Forge and I stand by one of the engines watchingthe chaos unfold.
“This is what you wanted me to see,” I say quietly.
“This is what I wanted you to be part of,” he corrects, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “Not just to watch… to belong.”
The hum of our bond is steady and sure, warm as the string lights overhead. I lean into him, feeling the truth of it settle deep.
