Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Forge
I’ve been running the course on repeat for twenty minutes, burning energy on ladder climbs and rope work, but the rhythm isn’t enough to quiet the questions churning in my head.
Eleven days since Jordan fled my apartment like I was some kind of monster, and not a single word from her since.
I finish the rope traverse and drop to my feet on the packed dirt, checking my time on my watch when I hear footsteps behind me.
“You trying to win a medal in self-destruction, or what?”
“It’s just physical training.”
“Right. And I’m practicing my ballet.” Kam leans against one of the course barriers, arms crossed. “You’ve been out here every day since the speed-dating disaster, brother. The whole crew’s noticed.”
“Better to punish my body than let my mind keep circling the same damn thoughts,” I mutter.
His voice gentles slightly as he studies my face. “Are you finally going to spill about what happened with your female?”
The question crashes into me, raw and brutal, the way only truth can. Your female. If only it were that simple.
“She’s not mine,” I say, the words tasting like ash. “She made that pretty damn clear.”
“Bullshit.” Kam’s response is immediate and sharp. “I saw you two at the fire last Saturday. Saw the way she watched you work, the pride on her face when you carried out the elderly minotaur couple. That woman was falling for you hard.”
The memory bears down like smoke in my lungs—thick, choking, and impossible to ignore. Jordan in the crowd, her caramel eyes bright with admiration, the way she’d looked at me like I was some kind of hero. The way she’d breathed my name, like she was seeing me for the first time.
I’d never wanted anything more than to keep that look, to be the male she saw in that moment. But wanting doesn’t change what came after—the way her eyes went from wonder to regret in less than a day.
“Yeah, well, apparently watching someone do their job isn’t the same as wanting a relationship with them.” I shove my braids behind my shoulders, suddenly exhausted. “She said we barely know each other. That what happened between us was a mistake.”
Kam studies my face with the intensity he usually reserves for reading fire patterns. “And you believed her?”
“What else was I supposed to do? She ran out of my apartment like it was on fire. Every morning, I wake up reaching for her. Every morning, my hand closes on nothing.”
“What did you say to her? Before she ran?”
The question makes me flinch. “Nothing that should have scared her. I told her what I felt wasn’t just physical. That it felt like—” I stop myself before I can say the word that’s been haunting me for eleven days.
“Felt like what?”
“Like it wasn’t a mistake. Like something I can’t explain—something that hit me the moment I saw her and hasn’t let go since.” I lean against one of the course barriers, feeling the weight of my confusion.
“You know what the old songs say about soulbinding, Kam. About recognition that hits like lightning. But this can’t be that. We’re strangers. I don’t even know her favorite color or how she takes her coffee.”
“Black, two sugars, no cream.” Kam shrugs.
“How do you—”
“I was standing right behind her when she made it at the mixer.” He sits on a nearby wooden crate, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been glued to that phone since she left,” Kam says. “Tell me about the messages.”
I don’t have to ask what he means. My phone has become a source of both hope and torture over the past eleven days.
“Started out worried,” I admit. “Asking if she was okay, if we could talk. Then…” I pull out my phone, scrolling through the painful progression of texts she never answered. “Then I got pathetic.”
Saying it knots something in my chest. I’ve faced burning buildings with steadier hands, but watching that phone stay dark? That did me in.
I read him my latest message, sent this morning in a moment of weakness: “I know you think we’re strangers, but strangers don’t look at each other the way you looked at me during the fire.
Strangers don’t fit together the way we did.
Give us a chance to figure out what this is before you throw it away. ”
“Goddess,” Kam whistles low. “Hearing that makes my stomach cramp. No wonder she’s not responding. You went from zero to stalker in record time.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I mutter. He didn’t have to tell me, though. I re-read it five minutes after sending and wanted to throw my phone—or myself—off a bridge.
“Hey, I’m not saying the sentiment was wrong. Just the execution.” He shifts his weight on his crate. “Look, I’m no expert on human females, but running doesn’t always mean she doesn’t care. Sometimes it means she cares too much and doesn’t know what to do with it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it. If she really didn’t care, if it really was just a mistake to her, would she have run? Or would she have stayed and had a rational conversation about keeping things casual?”
I haven’t thought about it that way. “She ran because…?”
“She ran because what she felt scared the hell out of her. And instead of giving her space to process that fear, you’ve been texting her like someone who doesn’t know when to back off.”
The truth hits harder than I want to admit. “So what am I supposed to do? Just forget about her?”
“Hell no. You’re supposed to court her properly.” Kam straightens, brushing dust off his uniform. “Show her you’re serious about more than just getting her back in your bed. Prove that what you felt was real and worth fighting for.”
“You’re right,” I say, cutting him off before he can build up steam. The words come out firmer than I expected, and I realize I mean them. “She is worth fighting for.”
Kam blinks, clearly surprised by my tone. “Wait, really? You’re not going to argue with me about respecting her boundaries or giving her space?”
“I am going to respect her boundaries. But that doesn’t mean giving up.
” I straighten, feeling something shift in my chest—a decision being made, a line being drawn.
“She’s scared because of what her ex did to her.
I get that. But I’m not him, and she needs to see that I’m not going anywhere just because things got intense. ”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“I’ve had some ideas circling in the back of my mind.
I’m going to prove to her that this isn’t just physical.
That I see all of her—not just the brilliant lawyer or the incredible lover, but the woman who’s been hurt and is trying to protect herself.
” I meet Kam’s eyes steadily. “I’m going to show her that some males keep their promises. ”
The smile that spreads across Kam’s face is proud. “There’s the Forge we’ve been waiting to meet. About damn time you showed up.”
Before I can ask what he means, the alarm bells ring. Structure fire, two blocks away. We run for the trucks, the conversation shelved but not forgotten.
Jordan O’Brien thinks she’s protecting us both by staying away. But she’s about to learn that orcs don’t give up easily when we find something—someone—worth claiming.
And whether this is soulbinding or something simpler but just as powerful, she’s worth every minute I’ll spend proving it to her.
I find the sign-up sheet for the speed-dating event, find Riley’s number, and text her. If Jordan won’t answer me, perhaps her friend Riley will help me connect with her. Words can wait. Actions can’t.