Chapter 15
Sammy
The sprinkler system chose the worst possible moment to explode.
I was mid-tour with a group of twenty visitors when water erupted from the east garden irrigation line, sending a geyser six feet into the air. Screams erupted as people scattered, children shrieking, and parents trying to grab their kids while avoiding the spray.
“Jim,” I called, already moving. “Shut off the main valve. Claire, get towels from the house. Beth, help people to dry ground.”
My voice came out steady. Clear. Not a hint of the panic I would’ve felt a month ago.
I waded into the spray, locating the break in the line. The fitting had cracked, probably from age and water pressure. I pressed my hand over it, redirecting the flow away from the tour group.
Water soaked through my shirt and jeans within seconds. My hair plastered to my face. But I held my ground, keeping pressure on the break until Jim could reach the shutoff.
“Got it,” he yelled from across the garden.
The water pressure dropped, then stopped. I released the fitting and wiped water from my eyes.
The tour group huddled near the café, most of them wet but no one appearing injured. Claire handed out towels while Beth corralled the children over to a picnic table with promises of snacks.
I turned to assess the damage and found Gavrel striding toward me, his wings spread slightly.
“Are you hurt?” His hands went to my shoulders, and he checked me over.
“I’m fine. Just wet.”
His tail did a slow swish behind him. His wings hadn’t folded yet, creating a partial shield between me and the rest of the garden.
“You handled that well,” he said.
I looked back at the scattered tour group, the flooded garden, and the broken irrigation line. A month ago, I would’ve frozen. Called Dazy in a panic. Apologized to everyone a dozen times for something that wasn’t my fault.
Today, I’d handled it.
“I did, didn’t I?”
His smile spread wide, showing the hint of fang. “It was amazing to watch.”
Jim approached. “The fitting will need to be replaced. I can run to the hardware store for another.”
“Get two,” I said. “And check the other fittings in this section while you’re at it. If one went, others might be close.”
He nodded, heading toward the back lot where staff parked.
I strode over the tour group. “I’m sorry for the disruption. Let’s get everyone dried off and we’ll continue in the west garden while my team handles repairs.”
I explained what had happened and outlined our backup tour route. No one seemed angry. A few even looked impressed by how quickly we’d responded.
By the time I’d finished settling everyone, Gavrel had disappeared back to his clearing. His chainsaw started up again.
After the tour had finished, I went to the shed. It smelled like sawdust and earth and Gavrel.
I stood in the doorway, Dazy’s list of organization tasks in my hand, while memories flooded through me. His body caging mine against the wall. The desperate need in his touch. How safe I’d felt even then.
I moved toward the left wall, touching the wood.
Heat crawled up my neck.
I was being ridiculous. It was a shed. A storage space that needed reorganizing so Dazy could install proper shelving when they got back from their honeymoon.
Except it wasn’t only a shed anymore. It was the place where I’d let myself be claimed.
The shed door creaked. I spun around.
Gavrel stood in the entrance, backlit by the sun. “Need help?”
My throat went dry. “I’m supposed to be clearing space for shelving.”
“Alright. I’ll help.” He stepped inside, his wings folding to fit through the doorway. The space felt immediately smaller with him in it.
His scent surrounded me, mixing with the memory-soaked air.
“You don’t have to,” I said.
“I want to.”
I explained what was needed, and he moved to the back wall, assessing the situation. Like he hadn’t pressed me against the wall and had his way with me a few days ago.
My face got hotter.
Focus on work. Organization. Tasks.
I read through Dazy’s list. Gavrel listened, making suggestions about load-bearing walls and shelf placement.
Then we worked in silence, moving boxes and equipment. Every time we passed each other in the tight space, awareness crackled between us.
His tail stroked my calf when he reached for a box overhead. My hand landed on his back when I lost my balance climbing a step stool. Each touch felt purposeful even when it wasn’t.
“You were amazing today,” he said, stacking boxes against the far wall.
“It was just a broken pipe.”
“It was a crisis that you handled without hesitation. You delegated, problem-solved, and kept everyone calm.”
“Having you here helps,” I said quietly.
His wings rustled. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You showed up. That matters.”
The shed door remained open, sunlight streaming in. Anyone could walk by. But Gavrel moved closer anyway, his hand coming up to cup my face.
“You’ve always been strong enough to handle anything,” he said.
“I’m starting to believe that.”
He kissed me, soft and sweet. Not the bold claiming of our previous encounter, but something gentler. More tender.
When we broke apart, I rested my cheek against his chest.
“I’m terrified I’m repeating past mistakes,” I whispered. “That I’m trusting too fast again.”
His arms came around me. “What does your gut tell you?”
I thought about Dennis, how he’d made promises he never intended to keep. How I’d ignored every red flag because I’d wanted so badly to be loved.
Gavrel wasn’t like that. He showed up, and he stayed. He respected my independence while offering support.
“My gut says this is different,” I said.
“It’s not always easy to trust others or yourself, but that strength is still inside you. Lean on it if you can.”
His tail curled around my ankle, holding on.
After we’d finished, I went inside and showered, then went to Dazy’s office to get ready for my video call with my lawyer.
My computer announced her incoming call, and I accepted it.
Nancy appeared on the screen with a no-nonsense expression on her medium-green orc face. She wore a crisp white blouse and had her dark hair pulled back in a bun.
We chatted a moment before the call turned serious.
“Let’s talk strategy,” she said, pulling up files on her screen.
Gavrel’s clearing was visible through the window to my right. The rhythmic sound of his chainsaw provided background noise I found comforting.
“Virginia’s lawyer sent over their initial proposal,” Nancy said. “They’re asking for weekly unsupervised visits.”
My stomach dropped. “No.”
“Agreed. That’s not happening.” Nancy scrolled through the document. “We’ll counter with supervised visits only, of limited duration, and at a location of your choosing. They want you to travel to her. We’ll insist she comes to you.”
“Can she force more than that?”
“Grandparent rights in this state are limited. You’re the custodial parent.
You’ve been Corey’s sole provider for eight years.
Courts favor the parent’s judgment unless there’s evidence of unfitness.
” Nancy looked up from her screen. “Is there any evidence of that? Police reports. Complaints to the state. Anything?”
“No.”
“Then we’re in good shape. Virginia can request visitation, but the court will defer to your assessment of what’s best for Corey.”
Relief flooded through me. “So she can’t just take him.”
“Not without proving you’re an unfit parent, which she can’t do.” Nancy leaned forward. “Here’s what I expect. Virginia will try to intimidate you with money and lots of legal talk. She’ll imply she has more resources, better connections. Don’t let her rattle you.”
Through the window, Gavrel’s wings spread wide as he adjusted his position. His tail swished, showing he was satisfied with his work.
I was smiling.
“What’s funny?” Nancy asked.
“Nothing. Just watching Gavrel work.”
Nancy’s expression softened. “That’s the gargoyle I’ve seen flying around town.”
“Yes.”
“He’s good for you. I can tell.”
My cheeks warmed. “It’s new.”
“New doesn’t mean wrong.” Nancy pulled up another document. “Let’s go over what happens at tomorrow’s meeting. Virginia’s lawyer will likely open with demands. Let me handle the responses. You stay calm and don’t engage directly. If you need a break, take one.”
We spent the next thirty minutes reviewing tactics and responses. Nancy walked me through every potential scenario.
The chainsaw stopped outside. A glance through the window showed Gavrel stepping back from his work, assessing something.
Two gnomes now stood in the clearing. The male I’d watched him create over the past week, and a new female form he’d started a few days ago.
A matched pair.
My chest tightened with emotion I couldn’t name.
“Sammy?” Nancy’s voice pulled me back.
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I asked if you had questions about custody documentation.”
“No. I mean, yes, but nothing urgent.” I forced myself to focus. “What happens if she refuses our terms?”
“Then we go to court. But I don’t think she will. Virginia wants a relationship with Corey. She knows forcing the issue through litigation will damage that before it starts.”
The office door opened. Gavrel poked his head in, saw I was on a call, and started to retreat.
“It’s fine,” I told him. “We’re almost done.”
He entered, moving to the bookshelf and pretending to browse titles. But I could feel his attention on me.
Nancy’s expression went knowing. “I’ll send you the counterproposal by the end of day. Review it tonight and let me know if you want any changes. We’ll present it tomorrow at two.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s going to be fine, Sammy. You’ve got this.”
The call ended. I shut down the computer, suddenly exhausted.
Gavrel crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the desk. “How’d it go?”
“Better than expected. Nancy thinks we’re in good shape legally.”
“Of course you are. You’re an excellent mother.”
“Virginia has money though. Resources.”