17. Allie #2
Understanding dawned in his dark eyes, followed by such tenderness it made my breath catch. “You’re building a new life.”
“Yes.” The word came out as a whisper, loaded with all the hope I’d been afraid to feel. “For the first time in my life, I’m creating instead of getting by. I’m making art that will outlast me.”
Hail’s hands framed my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “You belong here, Allie. In this barn, in this town, and with me. Whatever happens with Will Carmichael, this is your home now.”
The word settled into my chest like a warm ember, chasing away some of the cold fear that had been my constant companion for years. I had a place where I was wanted, valued, loved.
“I love you,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
Hail’s eyes widened, then crinkled at the corners as his face broke into the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen. “I love you too. So much it sc-sc-scares me sometimes.”
He kissed me, soft and sweet and full of heady promises. Clay-covered hands and all, right there in the middle of the pottery barn with afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. It felt like sealing a pact, making a vow that went beyond words.
We were going to build a life together. Whatever it took, whatever we had to face, we’d do it side by side.
That evening at the ranch, Hail cooked dinner for us—thaxon steaks with roasted velkara and fresh nimmel bread from Sel’s bakery. The domesticity of it all made my heart flutter. This was what normal couples did. They chatted about their day, cooked meals, and shared their lives.
Tressa lounged on the floor of the hall, occasionally lifting her head to check on us before settling back down with a contented sigh. Even she seemed to sense the peace we’d found in our little bubble of happiness.
“This is perfect,” I said, savoring a bite of the perfectly seasoned meat. “You’re an amazing cook.”
“I had to learn after mo-mo-moving to the surface.” He cut another piece of steak and collected it with his fork. “In the orc kingdom, big families often live close b-b-by and cook together. Here, it was me and Tressa for the longest time.”
The wistfulness in his voice made my heart ache. I reached across the table to take his hand, marveling at how his fingers dwarfed mine but held them with infinite care.
“Were you lonely?” I asked.
He considered the question, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm that sent shivers up my arm.
“I thought I was content. I had-had my pottery, my brothers nearby, Tressa for-for com-company. But now that you’re here…
” He met my eyes, and the raw honesty there took my breath away.
“I-I-I understand the difference between being alone and being lonely.”
The simple truth in his words made my throat tighten. This sweet, gentle male had been living half a life, content with his solitude because he’d never believed he could have more. And now, here we were, creating something neither of us had dared hope for.
“Tell me about your dreams,” he said. “I want to hear them all.”
I smiled, letting myself remember my early fantasies for once without the usual pain.
“I used to spend hours drawing, painting, making little sculptures out of whatever I could find. My father…” I paused, the familiar pang of loss and regret hitting me hard, stealing my smile.
“He used to encourage it, before everything changed. He’d bring me art books from the library, and we’d go to museums on weekends. ”
“What changed?”
“I got older. Art became impractical.” I swirled my wine, watching the liquid catch the low light.
“He started pushing me toward business school, stable careers, safe choices. Looking back, I think he was already getting involved with dangerous people. He wanted me to have a boring, safe life because his was becoming anything but.”
Hail’s hand tightened on mine, reminding me I was here, with him, before the grief could pull me under. “He was trying to protect you.”
“I know that now. But at the time, it felt like rejection. I thought he’d decided my dreams weren’t worth pursuing.
” I looked up at Hail, seeing nothing but understanding in his eyes.
“That’s why your pottery means so much to me.
It’s the first time in years I’ve felt like an artist instead of someone going through the motions of living. ”
“You are an artist,” he said. “I’ve seen the way you approach the clay, the instincts you have for color and form. With proper training, you could be extraordinary.”
“You really think so?” The little girl who used to dream of galleries and art shows peeked out from behind years of practical expectations.
“I know so. And once Will Carmichael is dealt with, we’ll have plenty of-of time in the world to explore your t-t-talent.”
Once this was all over. The phrase hung between us, full of promise and uncertainty. I wanted desperately to believe in that future, in a life where I could wake up beside Hail every morning, spend my days creating beautiful things, and build a partnership full of love and shared passion.
But Will Carmichael was still out there somewhere. His organization was still hunting me. And until that threat was eliminated, I couldn’t have the life I was beginning to want so desperately.
“What if they come back and the detective’s team doesn’t catch them?” I asked quietly, voicing the fear that haunted my quieter moments.
Hail lifted our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “We won’t let them near you.”
The certainty in his voice was both comforting and heartbreaking. He really believed he could protect me from anything, even a criminal empire with unlimited resources. His faith in our ability to overcome this was absolute, unwavering.
I was going to trust that he was right.