23. Rosey
Chapter 23
Rosey
B y the time our flight landed back home, I’d come to the realization that it was over between Ostor and I before it truly got started. I’d tossed my heart at another man, though honestly, I hadn’t loved Jacob, but I’d been rejected even faster.
Ostor wasn’t interested in having more with me. If he was, he would’ve made that clear. Maybe he was only looking for a weekend fling. Did orcs do that sort of thing?
All guys do, I chided myself. You thought he was different, but you were wrong. Terribly wrong.
If only there was an exit off the back of the plane. But, yay, first-class passengers got to disembark first. If I was lucky, I wouldn’t see him again. Then I could go home, curl up on my bed, and sob for the rest of my life.
This felt so much worse than with Jacob . . .
. . . Because I’d fallen in love with Ostor. There it was. It only took three days of his charm, and I handed my heart to him only to have him chew on it a bit before tossing it back, mangled.
Every step I took, dragging my suitcase toward customs, felt like a fist tightening around my chest. It wasn’t the physical weight of the bag. It was the load in my soul, this dense bundle of pain I couldn’t shake free.
Of course Ostor would breeze through first-class customs and vanish without needing to wait. That was a perk of flying with the elite, though I wasn’t mad about that. No, the bitterness coiling in my stomach came from the fact that he didn’t even say goodbye. No quiet “take care” or even a fake, polite “it was fun.” Just a long weekend, a handful of kisses and tons of mind-blowing sex, then he ghosted me at the airport terminal.
What did I expect? That he’d sweep me into his arms and declare his undying love, right in the middle of baggage claim? That this guy, who wasn’t tethered to this peculiar human world of mine would decide I was enough to make him stay? Yeah, right, Rosey. You’d think after my bad luck with one guy, I would’ve known better.
My eyes burned, but I wasn’t going to cry in public. Not here, surrounded by exhausted travelers clutching wailing kids’ hands, old couples kissing like true love actually lasted, and teenagers gazing around with sullen expressions on their faces. No one cared about some girl whose sorta boyfriend didn’t stick around long enough to say goodbye.
A stamp, a nod, a half-hearted welcome back, and then I was through customs. I scanned the crowd out of habit more than anything else, hoping for something I couldn’t give name to. But nope. Ostor was gone.
The carousel was another kind of purgatory, its endless rotation of spinning bags that weren’t mine mocking me. When my suitcase finally emerged from the blackened tunnel, I lunged for it. My hands trembled as I yanked it upright and smacked it on the linoleum floor, the wheels screeching as I pulled it toward the exit.
Outside, I tugged my bag along the sidewalk, the painted lines on the curb blurring. My chest felt hollow, achy. Just a few more steps, and this would all be over. I’d go home, lie on my bed, and spend the weekend crying about how stupid I was to think an orc cowboy would fall for me.
“Goodbye,” Ostor’s voice rumbled behind me, unmistakably his.
I froze, my grip on the suitcase handle tightening until my knuckles twitched.
I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t.
“I’ll communicate once I have a plan,” he said.
And what did that mean?
I wasn’t sure why, but his words stung more than an outright rejection. My feet wanted to move, to keep me from facing the mess of whatever this was. But my body rebelled, pinning me in place on the concrete sidewalk.
“Bye, Ostor,” I said, willing my voice not to break because, damn, it wanted to. “It was . . . fun.” Fun? That was all I could come up with? My nails dug into the suitcase handle, and I barely held back the wave of emotions about to smack into me. “Do you have a way home?” I asked stiffly, still not turning to look at him.
“I’ve texted one of my brothers to come get me.” HIs voice came out heavier than before.
“Good,” I snapped.
“Good,” he echoed, just as clipped.
Anger began churning through my veins, stomping through the sadness that I’d been drowning in through the flight. My steps quickened, my heels smacking against the pavement as I stormed out onto the crosswalk with only the clatter of Ostor’s roller bag behind me.
“Wait,” he called out with what I swore sounded like desperation.
Nah, it couldn't be.
But I stopped—right there on the crosswalk. A car waited to pass, the driver tapping his hand on the steering wheel. He tooted the horn.
“Yeah, you know what, buddy?” I snarled at him. “I'm here. Pedestrians rule. You can sit on your ass and give me a chance to . . .” Well, I didn't know what I was going to do.
A tiny, stupid part of me that still cared, that still hoped, won out. Slowly, I turned, expecting Ostor to look shamefaced, to fumble some generic explanation that would soften the blow of this parting.
What I didn’t expect was to find Ostor kneeling right behind me. His hat fell to the side as he reached for my hands. The rough warmth of his touch sent a jolt looping through me, stabbing through that flicker of hope I’d tried to snuff out.
“I messed up,” he said, the words tumbling out of him at a frantic pace. “I messed up everything, Rosey. Human courtship, your customs— everything . I don’t know how to do this, how to show you I care about you without ruining it even more.” His rough thumbs brushed against the backs of my hands, his dark eyes lifting to meet mine with a rawness that pinned me in place.
The car wheeled around us, tires squealing, but I could only see this gorgeous orc male who was turning my hand over and kissing the tiny symbol on the back of my wrist.
“Ostor.” My heart was breaking all over again because this felt much too real. “Why do I have this mark?”
He traced his fingertip across it. “It’s a mating mark. It means . . . It means . . .”
“What?” I croak. “Tell me.”
“That the fates chose me for you.”
It was all I could do to remain on my feet. “What do you think about that? Do you feel forced?”
He shook his head, not looking up. “How could I? But I messed it up, and I’m going to fix it.”
“I’m not sure what you messed up.” My brain was spinning, confusion stabbing the surface here and there, making it hard to think.
“I’m going to figure it out,” he said, his words gaining strength even as his voice cracked. “I’ll fix all of it. You deserve better than a male who fumbles around, not knowing what to say, what to do, or how to play volleyball.”
“Volleyball?”
“I shouldn't have put my cock inside you. Or dragged my tongue through your warm wetness. Or sucked on your clit.”
“You go, dude,” a woman said, passing us. She gave me a bright smile. “Gotta love a guy with a good tongue.”
I shook my head, dismissing her, focusing on this guy who was finally looking up at me, his heart blazing on his face.
He jerked in a breath, and his grip on my hands tightened. “Jacob told me everything, and I'm grateful.”
Once again, I wanted to kick Jacob. “What did he say to you?”
“Only good things. He said you’re amazing. That you deserve the best of everything. That he hates that he hurt you, though he couldn’t help loving Macy. He said you deserve someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who can handle your warmth and strength and every shiny thing about you that should never be dimmed.”
I blinked, the weight of his words knocking me sideways. “Jacob said all that?”
Ostor nodded, his gaze locked on mine like I was the only thing tethering him to the ground. “He was right, Rosey. You’re wonderful. Perfect. Sublime. The kind of person any man or orc would be honored to have by their side. He told me ways to win your love, how to be everything you need. And I ruined it. I . . . I . . .” Emotion clogged his throat, cutting him off, but I didn’t need him to finish.
I already knew what he was trying to say.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. This big, sweet, awkward orc was kneeling in the middle of a crosswalk because he couldn’t let me walk away without trying to tell me everything he felt for me in his heart.
“Get up,” I said, my voice half-laugh, half-sob as I tugged his hands. “Please.”
“How can I fix it?” His wide, black eyes searched mine, vulnerable and so painfully, achingly hopeful that it twisted my heart into knots. “Tell me. I'll do anything you ask, whatever you need.”
“Get up, Ostor.” I tugged harder, and he finally rose to his feet, towering over me. “You’re too hard on yourself. Don’t you already know? I don’t need fancy dates or bouquets of flowers or whatever else Jacob might have suggested. I only need you, Ostor. Nothing and no one else. Just you .”
“Does that mean . . . Do you mean you'll give me another chance to prove to you that I love you?”
“It does, cowboy.” My lips curved into a smile. “Because I love you too, and that’s all that truly matters.”
“You do?”
I nodded. “I do. I love you so much.”
“Rosey,” he groaned, cupping my face with a delicate touch. “ Rosey .”
I snagged his cowboy hat and smacked it onto my head. Then I leaped into his wide-open arms.