4. Kavin #2
Those are the hardest ones. Back in Maine we had a house fire where a family barely got out. Still think about it.
Exactly. You save who you can, but the what-ifs can eat you alive if you let them.
Is that your philosophy or experience talking?
Both. You?
I stare at the phone, considering how much to reveal.
Experience. Both in emergency response and in life.
Want to talk about it?
The simple question catches me off guard. When was the last time someone other than Talon asked if I wanted to talk about something personal?
Not particularly. But I appreciate the offer.
Standing offer. I’m a good listener when I’m not being obnoxiously loud.
I’ll remember that.
Good. Now tell me about this commune where you grew up. I’m picturing something out of a history documentary.
I find myself describing life on the commune, the cabins we lived in and the main meeting lodge, the traditional hunting, the way everyone had a role and purpose.
I don’t mention the isolation I eventually felt, and the way my father’s death changed everything.
But I share enough that she gets a picture of a life completely different from her military and urban experiences.
Sounds peaceful.But I bet you were ready for something different.
How do you know?
Because you left. People don’t leave paradise unless they’re looking for something else.
Her insight is uncomfortably accurate.
What about you? Ever want to leave Spokane?
I’ve thought about it. Especially after not getting that job. But this is home, you know? My sister’s here, my friends. It would take something pretty special to make me want to start over somewhere else.
What kind of something?
The right person, maybe. Someone worth building a new life with.
The comment hangs there in the space between us, loaded with implication. I stare at the words for a long time before typing back.
I’m sure you’ll find that person.
Maybe I already have.
My heart pounds as I read the message. This is dangerous territory, the kind of conversation that leads to complications I can’t afford. I should shut it down, redirect to safer topics.
Instead, I find myself typing:
Mia…
Too much?
We’re friends.
I know. But…I’m not going anywhere.
The conversation moves to safer ground after that, but the undercurrent remains. She’s not pushing, not demanding anything I’m not ready to give. But she’s also not pretending the attraction doesn’t exist. I can accept that.
By the second of this budding friendship with Mia I’m looking forward to our texts so much I check my phone constantly. One night, when she doesn’t message by her usual time, I find myself wondering if something’s wrong.
The text finally arrives at nearly ten o’clock:
Sorry for the late message. Pulled a double shift today. Exhausted.
Everything okay?
Multi-car pileup on I-90. All hands on deck. Finally got home an hour ago.
You should get some rest.
Probably. But I wanted to ask you something first.
My pulse quickens.
What’s that?
Want to grab dinner with me sometime? That new Italian place downtown has been getting good reviews.
The words on my screen seem to blur as panic floods my system. This is what I was afraid of. The friendship evolving into something more, the boundaries I’ve carefully maintained starting to crumble.
I don’t do human dates, Mia. We’re just friends.
I watch as the three dots undulate as she finally responds:
Got it. No worries.
I stare at the phone, expecting…what? Anger? Hurt? Pressure to explain myself?
Instead, she sends a follow up text:
Rain check on the friendship dinner then. Maybe when you’ve settled into the job more.
Her casual acceptance should be a relief. Instead, it leaves me feeling oddly disappointed. Part of me, a part I don’t want to acknowledge, wanted her to push back, to demand an explanation, to fight for what could be between us.
Yes, I’m messed up.
Mia.
Yeah?
I start to type an explanation, then delete it. Start again, then delete that too. Finally, I settle on:
It’s not personal.
I know. You’re worth waiting for.
The words hit me like a physical blow. She’s not giving up. She’s just…waiting. Being patient while I work through whatever’s holding me back.
The problem is, I’m not sure I want to work through it.
Over the next few days, Mia proves true to her word. The texts continue as if nothing happened. She doesn’t bring up the dinner invitation again, doesn’t push for anything beyond the friendship I said I wanted.
But I notice the subtle campaign she’s waging. Comments about restaurants she’d like to try, movies she wants to see, events happening around town. She’s not asking me to join her, but she’s planting seeds, making it clear that the invitation stands if I change my mind.
She sends a text on Thursday night.
There’s a food truck festival this weekend in Riverfront Park. I love trying out new types of dishes.
Sounds like fun.
The weather’s supposed to be perfect. Nothing better than eating outside in the crisp fall air, when it’s still sunny, before it gets too cold.
True.
Maybe I’ll check it out Saturday after my shift.
She doesn’t invite me. Doesn’t even suggest I might want to come. But the opening is there if I want to take it.
I don’t.
I send my own text on Friday night.
Had to stay late for a difficult rescue today. Elderly woman trapped in her basement after a shelf fell.
Oh no! Is she okay?
Bruised ribs, but she’ll recover. I was able to quickly move the shelving unit safely.
I bet she was grateful such a strong orc was there to perform that rescue.
Just doing the job.
The job you’re apparently very good at. The crew is lucky to have you.
Her confidence in my abilities means more than it should.
How do you know I’m good at it?
Because you care. And because you wouldn’t have gotten the position if you weren’t qualified.
Even though I took the job you wanted?
Especially because of that. You earned it fair and square.
Her generosity humbles me. She could be bitter, resentful. Instead, she’s supportive of my success even at her own expense.
You’re a good human, Mia.
She leaves a laughing emoji.
You’re literally the only person in town who thinks that way. Warning you that most people think I’m mean and impossible to get along with. But I guess you bring out my good side? And I think that way about you too. I think you’re a good orc too, Kavin. I’m a person who knows quality when I see it.
There it is again, that subtle reminder that she sees something worthwhile in me, something worth pursuing despite my resistance.
I’m becoming emotionally invested despite every wall I’ve built, despite every vow I’ve made to avoid exactly this situation.
She’s breaking past my defenses with patience and persistence, proving day after day that she’s nothing like the human female who destroyed my father and left me behind without a second glance.
But that doesn’t change the facts. It doesn’t erase the lessons of my childhood or the promises I made to myself. Human females leave. They get what they want and then they disappear, leaving wreckage in their wake.
I won’t let that happen to me, or my son. Therefore, I will remain alone. Which for the first time doesn’t sound as satisfying as it did in the past.
Get some rest.Early morning tomorrow.
You too. Sweet dreams, Kavin.
I stare at her message for a long time before turning off the phone.
The irony isn’t lost on me that I’ve ended up living next door to the one human who makes me question everything I believe about my own species’ mating instincts.
Because the truth I don’t want to acknowledge is that my body responds to Mia Martin in ways it never has to any female. And despite my vows, despite my walls, despite every rational reason to maintain distance…
This female is going to be my downfall.