Chapter 17
Becken
Later that night, I stood in the town square surrounded by the entire community, watching our perfect Christmas tree come to life with hundreds of twinkling lights.
I’d spent the day hiding. Not quite, but avoiding Carla. She’d come to the barn. I’d heard her talking to Azool and Peeka. I could’ve left the hay loft and joined her, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
What could I tell her? That I was falling for her, but it felt like betraying Wexla's memory. That I wanted her to stay but couldn't force the words out. That every time I looked at her, I felt something I thought I’d buried with my first mate.
Wexla would’ve loved Carla’s laugh, her joy in simple traditions. The guilt I’d carried was lifting, replaced by the fear that asking Carla to stay would mean asking her to sacrifice everything she’d worked for.
I couldn’t do something like that to the woman I was starting to love.
Carla stood beside me, gazing up at the pine we’d chosen together.
“It’s pretty,” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.
The tree stood in the center of the square, the star at the top gleaming in the street lamps. Children pointed, their faces bright with excitement. Couples held hands and smiled at each other. Families gathered closer together, sharing the magic of this moment.
“Five, four, three, two, one,” the crowd chanted, and Dungar threw the switch that brought our tree fully to life.
The square erupted in cheers and applause. Carla bounced on her toes beside me, clapping, and my heart clenched at the sight of her. She’d spent her entire life dreaming about being part of a real Christmas celebration, surrounded by people who cared about her.
Aunt Inla beamed from across the square, wearing a red velvet dress that made her look like the spirit of Christmas herself.
Holly and Sel stood with Max, who was taking pictures with his phone to show his friends at school.
Jessi had tears in her eyes as she watched the tree sparkle, and even Grannie Lil looked emotional as she leaned on her cane.
My cousins clustered around us with their mates, creating a circle of found family that had become the center of my world.
Ostor had his arm around Rosey, both of them grinning at the lights.
Tark stood with Gracie, pointing out different ornaments to her while she nodded.
Ruugar held Beth protectively, her pregnancy showing beneath her winter coat.
Hail and Allie whispered to each other, their heads bent together in intimate conversation.
And Carla stood beside me, a part of this circle as naturally as if she’d been born to it.
For the first time since leaving the orc kingdom, the restless ache in my chest had quieted. This strange surface world with its bright lights and odd traditions had somehow become home.
I wanted to pull Carla closer, wrap my arms around her, claim her in front of everyone who mattered.
I wanted to whisper in her ear that this was our tree, our community, our life together.
I wanted her to look at me with the same wonder she showed the Christmas lights and tell me she never wanted to leave.
But I couldn’t find the right words, and I was afraid I’d grumble and growl my way through them. That would truly drive her away.
I was placing all my hope on my Christmas morning surprise.
Staring up at the star crowning our tree, I made a desperate, silent wish. If Christmas miracles existed, if there was any magic in this season she loved so much, please let her choose to stay. Please let her love me the way I’d fallen in love with her.
“Becken?” Carla asked. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I am.” I gave her a smile I hoped didn’t show everything blazing in my heart. The last thing I wanted was her pity. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“The parade,” I said instead. “Making sure we’re ready.”
She studied my face before she smiled and bumped my arm with her shoulder. “We’ll be ready. We make a good team.”
“Yes,” I said. “We do.”
The crowd began to break up, families heading home or to the Red Fang Saloon for hot chocolate, orc festival drinks, cookies, and assorted orc treats. Hail and Allie had left ornaments for each person to pick from, spread out on tables inside.
Carla stayed with me, still staring up at the tree like she was trying to memorize every detail.
“You don’t know what it means to be part of this.” She turned to face me, her brown eyes reflecting the golden lights. “Thanks for letting me share your Christmas. I’ve always dreamed of something like this.”
The gratitude in her voice made it feel like she was saying goodbye.
“You made this happen,” I said. “The celebration, the way the community came together. That’s because of your vision and your work.”
“Our work.”
“Mostly yours.”
She shook her head, but before she could argue, Holly appeared with a tray of steaming mugs.
“Hot chocolate for the tree-cutting heroes,” she said. “Max insisted on extra marshmallows for both of you.”
We accepted the drinks, the warmth seeping through our gloves. The chocolate was rich and sweet, topped with tiny marshmallows and a sprinkle of zent, a sweet orc spice.
“This is wonderful.” Carla sighed, taking another sip.
I watched her savor the simple treat, noting the way her eyes closed with contentment, the small smile that curved her lips. She looked peaceful, settled, like someone who had finally found home.
The observation both thrilled and terrified me.
“We should head back,” she said eventually. “We have an early morning tomorrow with final preparations.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t ready for this to end. Standing here with her, surrounded by Christmas magic and the warmth of community, felt too precious to leave.
But tomorrow would come whether I was ready or not. And with it, all the last-minute preparations that would define our final days together.
As we walked back toward the hotel, Carla chattering about decorating ideas and parade logistics, I let myself imagine what it would be like if she stayed, if this easy companionship and growing affection could develop into something permanent.
If next year, we’d stand together in this same spot, watching our next tree light up the square, but as mates instead of colleagues.
The fantasy was so vivid, so desperately wanted, that it made my heart spasm.
I had three days to show her that Lonesome Creek could be more than a temporary assignment, that what we’d built together was worth staying for.
That I was worth staying for.