Chapter Nine – Estelle
Estelle folded the tea towels with military precision, then turned to the spice jars on the counter as if basil and salt might somehow solve her problems.
Do you think that if you keep busy, it’ll stop you thinking about our mate? her dragon asked.
I’m not trying to stop thinking about him, Estelle snapped back, though the tightness in her chest said otherwise. I’m trying to create some stability.
Her dragon snorted. You’re alphabetizing spice jars. We have four spices.
Estelle glanced at the neat row on the counter—basil, oregano, pepper, salt—and sighed.
Her dragon wasn’t wrong. She’d been moving through the cottage like a whirlwind since Leo had left after breakfast, organizing and reorganizing things that didn’t need it, all to avoid the hollow feeling that had settled in her stomach the moment the door closed behind him.
“Mama, look!” Adara called from the living room, where she was arranging her small collection of toys on the windowsill. “Fizz says this is our lookout spot. We can see if anyone’s coming.”
Estelle’s heart squeezed. Even in play, Adara was always watching, always alert. Like mother, like daughter.
“That’s very smart,” she said, crossing to stroke her daughter’s curls. “Fizz is a clever dragon.”
Adara beamed up at her. “Leo might come back. Fizz wants to see him again.”
Only Fizz? her dragon teased.
Shut up, Estelle thought back, though without any real heat.
The cottage felt wrong without Leo in it—quieter, flatter, emptier than it had any right to after knowing him for such a short time. The place seemed to echo with his absence, as if he’d somehow become part of it overnight.
You’re being ridiculous, she told herself firmly. You’ve known him for less than two days.
And yet he’s ours, her dragon countered. You felt it. I felt it. Even Adara felt it.
Estelle turned away from the window and back to her unpacking, determined to focus on practical things.
There were curtains to hang, beds to make properly, and a kitchen to stock.
Normal things. Safe things. Things that didn’t make her heart race, or her palms sweat, or her body ache with a longing so fierce it frightened her.
“Can we go outside, Mama?” Adara asked, abandoning her lookout post. “I want to see if there are any pinecones for my collection.”
Fresh air. Yes. That would help clear her head.
“Good idea,” Estelle said, grabbing their jackets. “Let’s explore our new yard.”
The morning air was crisp and pine-scented, the sun casting dappled shadows through the trees surrounding their clearing. Adara immediately darted toward the edge of the forest, searching for treasures with Fizz clutched tightly in one hand.
“Stay where I can see you,” Estelle called automatically, her eyes tracking her daughter’s movements.
She’s safe here, her dragon insisted. Bear Creek called us for a reason.
Because of Leo, Estelle thought, the realization striking her with sudden clarity.
Yes, her dragon agreed. And because we need to stop running.
Estelle wrapped her arms around herself, watching as Adara crouched to examine something on the forest floor.
The little girl’s delight in simple discoveries—a strangely shaped stone, an interesting leaf, a perfect pinecone—made Estelle’s throat tighten.
How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to find joy in small things?
To be present instead of always planning their next move?
Last night, with Leo, she had been present. Completely, overwhelmingly present.
Heat rushed to her cheeks at the memory—his hands on her skin, his mouth against her throat, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. For those hours, she hadn’t been thinking about danger or escape plans or the past. She had just been feeling. Being.
You could have that again, her dragon murmured. Not just the physical part. The peace.
It wouldn’t last, Estelle argued, but the protest felt hollow even to her.
“Mama! Look what I found!” Adara came running back, her small hands cupped around something. She opened them carefully to reveal a milky-white stone shot through with tiny crackles that glittered in the light. “Fizz says it’s special.”
“I think she’s right.” Estelle kneeled to examine the treasure. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”
“Can I keep it?” Adara asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Of course.” Estelle smiled, tucking a stray curl behind her daughter’s ear. “We should find a special place for it in your room.”
As they headed back inside, Estelle felt the mate bond tugging at her again, a persistent ache that no amount of busywork could dull. She tried to focus on helping Adara find the perfect spot for her new stone, but her thoughts kept drifting to Leo.
Was he thinking about her, too? Was the distance as painful for him? The memory of his face when she’d asked for discretion—the hurt he’d tried so hard to hide—made her stomach clench with guilt.
He accepted it anyway, her dragon reminded her. He respected your boundaries even when it cost him.
That was the problem. Leo’s respect for her boundaries, his willingness to give her space despite the mate bond urging otherwise, only made him harder to resist. Harder to keep at a distance.
By lunchtime, Estelle gave up on pretending she was hungry for anything she had unpacked herself and warmed the leftovers Leo had brought the night before.
The cottage soon filled with the savory scent of soup and roast chicken, and her heart ached at the reminder of his quiet thoughtfulness.
Even after he’d left, he was still here in small ways—in the food in her kitchen, the milk in the fridge, the sense of care he had somehow woven through the place.
She set bowls on the table and tore bread into smaller pieces for Adara, who climbed into her chair with Fizz tucked beside her like an honored guest.
“I like Leo,” Adara announced between bites.
Estelle couldn’t help but smile. “What kind of faces?”
“Happy ones.” Adara demonstrated, her eyes crinkling at the corners in an uncanny imitation of Leo’s smile. “Like he’s got sunshine inside.”
The simple observation pierced Estelle’s heart. Sunshine inside. Yes, that was Leo—warm and bright.
And we’re keeping him at arm’s length, her dragon said sadly.
For good reason, Estelle insisted, but the argument was growing weaker by the hour.
She thought of how easily Leo had fit into their morning—making breakfast, chatting with Adara, filling the cottage with a warmth that had nothing to do with the stove. It had felt natural. Right.
Maybe too right.
Estelle rubbed her chest, where the mate bond seemed to pulse with a dull, persistent ache.
Distance was supposed to make things clearer, easier to manage.
Instead, it was making everything worse—her thoughts more scattered, her emotions more raw, her body restless with a longing that went beyond physical desire.
You’re just making us both miserable, her dragon pointed out. For what?
For safety, Estelle replied automatically.
Her dragon’s skepticism was palpable. Is it really safer to be alone? To deny what we both know is true?
Estelle got up abruptly, carrying their plates to the sink. The question hit too close, stirring doubts she had been trying to ignore all day.
“Can we go see Leo?” Adara asked, as if reading her thoughts. “Fizz misses him.”
Just Fizz? her dragon teased again.
“I think Leo’s probably busy,” Estelle said carefully, though the idea of seeing him sent a flutter of anticipation through her chest.
“Oh.” Adara’s face fell briefly, then brightened. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that. How long could she keep Leo at a distance? How long should she?
The mate bond tugged harder, as if sensing her wavering resolve.
Estelle moved to the window, looking out at the forest as afternoon light filtered through the trees. She’d spent so long running, so long focused only on survival, that the possibility of anything more seemed almost unreal—a fantasy she couldn’t afford to indulge.
But what if it wasn’t a fantasy? What if Leo was offering something real? Something lasting?
The fear is real, her dragon acknowledged softly. But so is the longing. So is the bond.
Estelle closed her eyes, feeling the pull toward him like a physical force. She’d been fighting it all day, and she was exhausted.
“You know what?” she blurted, turning to Adara. “I think we should go see if Leo wants to have dinner with us tonight.”
Adara’s face lit up. “Really? Now?”
“Yes, now.” The decision, once made, felt inevitable, as if she’d been moving toward it all day despite her best efforts to resist. “Go get your shoes on.”
As Adara scrambled to obey, Estelle’s dragon practically purred with satisfaction. Finally, listening to reason.
I’m not promising anything, Estelle cautioned. We’re just... exploring possibilities.
Her dragon snorted. Call it whatever you want. We both know what this is.
And what was it? Surrender? Weakness? Or maybe, just maybe, courage—the courage to reach for something beyond mere survival, to risk being seen, being known, being loved.
The thought made her hands tremble slightly as she helped Adara with her jacket. Love was dangerous. Love made you vulnerable. Love gave others power over you.
But it also gave you power—the power to choose, to trust, to build something worth protecting.
“Ready, Mama?” Adara asked, Fizz tucked securely under her arm.
Estelle took a breath and nodded. “Ready.”
They walked hand in hand to the car and got in. As she drove, Estelle followed the invisible thread of the mate bond tugging her toward Leo. She didn’t need directions or a map; her body knew exactly where to find him, as if he were magnetic north and she the needle of a compass.
With each mile that passed, the ache in her chest eased slightly, replaced by a nervous anticipation that made her palms damp. What would she say when she saw him? How could she explain this change of heart without sounding as conflicted as she felt?
“Are we going to his house?” Adara asked as they turned onto a smaller path through the trees.
“I think so,” Estelle replied, trusting the pull of the bond. “I’ve never been there before, but I can feel where he is.”
Adara nodded seriously, accepting this dragon-sense as naturally as breathing. “Like a treasure map in your heart.”