21. Allie
Allie
T he guilt ate at me like acid. Every time I looked at Hail’s face and saw no anger, no resentment, only love and determination to protect me, it made the weight in my chest heavier. His life’s work lay in ruins because of me, and he acted like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.
“You’re th-th-thinking too loud,” he said from where he sat sketching at Dungar’s kitchen table, not looking up from the paper where he was designing what looked like a new kiln layout.
“I’m not thinking anything.” Even planning to rebuild, he was gorgeous in his focus, the tip of his tongue poking out to stroke his tusks as he concentrated on the measurements.
“Your guilt is so loud I c-c-can practically hear it.” He set down his pencil and reached across to still my hand on the table. “We’ve been over this.”
“Have we?” I turned my palm up to catch his fingers, marveling at how his large hand dwarfed mine yet held me with such gentleness. “Because I’m pretty sure destroying someone’s dreams is still wrong, even if they’re too nice to admit it.”
Hail’s expression shifted, something deeper flickering in his dark eyes. “You think the pottery barn was my dr-dr-dream?”
“Isn’t it?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb stroking my knuckles in a rhythm that made my pulse skip.
“My dream was never about having the perfect workspace or the most expensive kiln. It was about creating lovely things and sh-sh-sharing them with people who would smile when they loo-looked at them.”
My throat tightened.
“You understand,” he said. “You see what I’m try-trying to create, not only with clay but with…with everything. The barn was just a place. You’re the dream I never knew I was missing.”
My throat closed off entirely. How was I supposed to respond to that kind of devastating honesty? This sweet, generous male who’d lost everything because of me was sitting here telling me I was worth more than all of it combined.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.
“Lucky for both of us, love isn’t about de-de-deserving.” He lifted our joined hands to kiss my palm. “It’s about choosing each other, every day, n-n-no matter what the world sends our way.”
Tressa padded over from her spot by the front window, resting her head on my knee with a soft whine.
“See? Tressa agrees.” Hail scratched behind the wolf’s ears, making her tail wag. “You’re stuck with us now.”
Despite everything, I found myself smiling. “Worse fates, I suppose.”
“Much worse f-f-fates.”
The back door opened, and Dungar stepped inside. We automatically shifted apart even though there was nothing improper about holding hands. Living in his brother’s house made everything feel awkward, like we were teenagers sneaking around under parental supervision.
“Any word?” Hail asked as Dungar hung his hat on the peg by the door.
“Nothing suspicious. Tourists are asking about the pottery demonstrations, but Aunt Inla’s telling everyone you’ve closed for a short time for personal reasons.” Dungar filled the kettle at the sink for tea. “No sign of Will or his people anywhere.”
“That’s good, right?” I looked between the brothers, trying to read their expressions.
“Maybe.” Dungar’s tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’m confident they’re preparing their next move.”
Anxiety spiked through my chest. We’d been holed up here for two days, which was too much time spent jumping at every unexpected sound and checking the windows whenever a vehicle passed on the distant road.
“There’s some g-g-good news though,” Hail said, his face brightening. “Tell her about the cleanup.” He glanced my way. “I was going to tell you but it’s m-m-my brother’s work.”
Dungar flashed a tusk-filled smile. “When I told everyone, the entire family said they wanted to help. Once this is over, they want to help fix the pottery barn. Holly organized the tourists too. You should see how many people volunteered to help, most saying they’ll come back when we give the word. ”
My eyes widened. “Tourists want to help clean up?”
“They said the pottery demonstrations were one of their favorite parts of visiting Lonesome Creek.” When the kettle whistled, Dungar poured his tea and brought the cup to the table, settling across from us. “It’s going to be amazing.”
I stared at him, trying to process what he was telling me. “Strangers are willing to spend their vacation time working on a mess?”
“They are,” Dungar said. “Because you and Hail and the pottery barn mean something to them. You’ve touched their lives, even in the short time they’ve been here.”
The tears came without warning. I’d spent so many years believing I was nobody special, that I had nothing of value to offer anyone. The idea that tourists would give up part of their vacation to help rebuild what I’d inadvertently caused to be destroyed was almost too much to comprehend.
“Hey.” Hail’s chair scraped against the floor as he moved to wrap his arms around me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I buried my face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “Everything’s perfect and terrible, and I don’t know how to handle any of it.”
“Welcome to our family,” Dungar said dryly, though his voice carried warmth. “It’s overwhelming at first, having people who actually care what happens to you.”
“I’ve never had that before.” The admission came out muffled against Hail’s shirt. “I don’t know the rules.”
“There aren’t any.” Hail stroked my hair. “Just l-l-love and loyalty and showing up for each other when it matters.”
“Even when it’s dangerous?”
“Especially then.”
I pulled back to look at him, seeing nothing but steady certainty in his eyes.
This male was willing to risk everything to keep me safe.
His entire family had rallied around a woman they’d only recently met because she mattered to him.
No, because I mattered to them. Still, the generosity of what they were doing staggered me.
“I want to help organize the cleanup.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
Dungar grunted. “Absolutely not. Too dangerous.”
“But—”
“You need to stay here where it’s safe until this is over.”
The reasonable part of me understood his logic, but the rest of me chafed at the confinement. I’d spent months running, constantly moving, and staying in one place made me feel trapped even when I knew it was for my own protection.
“I know it’s fr-fr-frustrating,” Hail said, reading my expression with the accuracy that still surprised me. “But it won’t be much longer.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Will Carmichael isn’t patient,” Dungar said. “Fernandez has teams monitoring all the nearby towns. When he makes a move, we’ll know about it.”
“What if he decides to wait us out? We can’t stay inside this house forever, and Fernandez will need his crew for other jobs.”
The brothers exchanged one of their silent communications that I was beginning to recognize as family shorthand.
“Well, see, that was the other reason I came.” Dungar’s gaze swept across us both. “Detective Fernandez will be in town first thing tomorrow morning, and we’re going to set his plan in motion.”
“Good.” Finally, we’d be acting, not reacting.
Dungar left.
The rest of the day passed slowly, tension coiling tighter in my belly with each passing hour.
Hail tried to distract me with stories about his childhood in the orc kingdom, sketches for the new pottery barn layout, and a thoroughly disastrous attempt at teaching me to play an orc card game that involved far too much strategy for my frazzled mind to handle.
“I don’t understand why the mining cards beat the crafting cards but lose to the hunting cards.” I stared at the confusing array spread across the kitchen table.
“It’s based on traditional orc society roles,” Hail explained patiently. “Miners provide raw materials for crafters, but hunters f-f-feed everyone, so they have the highest status.”
“But what about the family cards?”
“Family cards trump everything. Always.”
“That doesn’t make sense from a game balance perspective.”
Hail grinned, his tusks catching the afternoon light. “It makes perfect sense from an orc perspective. Family is more-more important than any individual achievement.”
I studied his face, seeing the quiet pride there when he talked about his culture, his people. “Do you miss the orc kingdom?”
“Sometimes. I miss the community, the way everyone has a place and a purpose.” He gathered the cards. “But I like the surface better. More poss-possibilities here. More freedom to become who you want to be instead of who tradition says you should be.”
“Is that why you chose pottery over something more traditionally orcish?”
“Partly. But mostly because clay spoke to me in a way nothing else ever had.” His expression grew distant, thoughtful.
“In the kingdom, I was always the quiet brother, the one who st-st-stuttered through conversations and preferred books to battles. Here, I can be an art-art-artist. Create beauty instead of just s-s-surviving.”
The wistfulness in his voice made my heart ache. I reached across the table to take his hand, linking our fingers together. “I’m glad you came to the surface.”
“So am I. Otherwise I never would’ve met you.”
Heat fluttered low in my belly. Even after everything we’d shared, the way he looked at me still made me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
“Hail…” I started to say, not sure what words would follow but knowing I needed to express my overwhelming gratitude and love.
A soft knock at the front door interrupted us. We both tensed, the peaceful moment shattered by the reminder that we were hiding, that danger could come at any time.
Dungar appeared from his office down the hall, moving with a weapon in hand and the controlled alertness that marked him as both sheriff and protective older brother. He checked the window before opening the door to reveal Greel standing on the porch.
“Everything alright?” Dungar asked, stepping aside to let his brother enter.