Chapter 7 Stone #2
"Stone. Buddy. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't." I sink onto my couch, still wearing the stupid suit. "I saw them together and I just... reacted."
"You gave them exactly what they wanted. Proof that orcs can't control themselves. That we're dangerous." His frustration bleeds through the line. "Do you have any idea how much harder you just made this for everyone in the program?"
Guilt joins the anger. I hadn't thought about that. About all the other orcs trying to build lives here, who'll now face increased scrutiny because I couldn't manage my emotions for five minutes.
"I'll fix it."
"How? The video's out there. Blair's already calling for review hearings. You can't unfuck this, Stone."
He's right. I know he's right.
But knowing doesn't help.
After Darius hangs up, I sit in the dark, watching my phone light up with notifications I don't have the courage to read. Somewhere across the city, Lacy is probably doing the same thing. Dealing with the fallout of my spectacular failure to be the person she needs me to be.
I pull out my notebook. The one where I write terrible poetry that no one's supposed to see.
Tried to fit / Tried to shrink / Tried to smooth the rough edges / Into something palatable / But rage is honest / Even when love isn't / And I burned us both / With truth told wrong
My phone rings one more time.
Lacy.
We need to talk. Tomorrow. My place.
I look at the message, dread pooling in my stomach.
This is where it ends. Where she chooses survival over the beautiful, impractical thing we built too fast and too carelessly.
I can't even blame her.
Okay, I type back.
The word sits there. Small and final.
I stand outside Ellis Books & Brews at closing time, watching through the window as Lacy flips chairs onto tables. Her movements are precise, mechanical. The kind of busy work you do when your brain won't stop spinning.
The street is empty. No cameras. No witnesses. Just me and the locked door between us.
I knock.
She freezes mid-reach, shoulders tensing. Turns slowly. Her face is unreadable through the glass, but she crosses to the door and opens it just wide enough for conversation.
"Stone."
"Can I come in?"
She hesitates. Glances past me at the empty sidewalk, checking for phones, for proof. Then steps aside.
I enter my own execution.
The shop smells like old paper and coffee grounds. Familiar. Safe. Everything I've managed to ruin.
"Lacy, I—"
"Don't." She holds up a hand, voice steady but strained. "Let me go first."
I nod. Wait.
"That was a disaster. You know that, right? The video's been viewed fifty thousand times. Blair's office called my landlord asking about 'safety protocols.' The grant committee wants a formal statement about my judgment in partnering with the placement program."
Each word lands like a punch.
"Three vendors pulled out of the cultural festival. Said they don't want to be associated with controversial programming." She laughs, hollow and bitter. "Controversial. That's what we are now."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" She turns, eyes blazing. "Because it felt like you were marking territory. Like I was something you owned that Evan was trying to steal."
"That's not—" I stop. Force myself to be honest. "Maybe part of it was. Seeing him touch you, seeing you smile at him like everything was normal when I'm over here trying to fold myself into shapes I'll never fit... yeah. I got jealous. Stupid jealous."
"Jealous I can work with. Public meltdowns that feed every stereotype Blair's been pushing? That's harder."
She sinks into one of the chairs she hasn't put up yet. Covers her face with her hands.
"I'm tired, Stone. Tired of defending us. Tired of justifying why I'm allowed to want you without it being some kind of political statement."
I kneel in front of her. The suit pants strain across my thighs.
"Then don't defend us. Don't justify."
"Easy for you to say."
"Is it?" The question comes out rougher than I mean. "You think this is easy? Walking around knowing every move I make gets analyzed for proof I'm too dangerous, too other, too much? I bought this ridiculous suit because I thought if I looked harmless enough, maybe they'd leave you alone."
She lowers her hands, looking at me properly for the first time. Takes in the ill-fitting jacket, the too-short pants.
"You hate suits."
"I hate watching you get hurt because of me more."
Something shifts in her expression. Softens at the edges.
"You look completely ridiculous in that thing."
"Yeah. I know."
"The pants are way too short. Your ankles are showing."
"Trust me, I'm aware."
"And that collar looks like it's actively strangling you right now."
"Yep." I work the button loose, breathing easier. "Darius made me practice eating with seven different forks. Told me to stop explaining things and just nod agreeably when humans make small talk about weather."
"Oh god." She's almost smiling now. "You really tried."
"I really failed."
"Yeah." But her hand reaches out, fingers brushing my jaw. "You really did."
The touch ignites something desperate in me. Need and hunger and three days of separation that felt like drowning.
I catch her wrist gently. "Tell me to leave and I will. Tell me we're done and I'll walk out that door and never make your life harder than I already have."
"Stone."
"But if there's any part of you that still wants this, wants me, then say that instead. Because I'm drowning here, Lacy. I need to know if I'm drowning alone."
She slides off the chair, kneeling with me on the floor. Her free hand cups my face, thumb tracing the ridge of my cheekbone.
"You're not alone."
Then she's kissing me. Hard and fierce and claiming, her mouth hot and urgent against mine. I freeze for half a second, surprised, before instinct takes over and I'm pulling her closer, hands spanning her waist, thumbs pressing against ribs.
"Upstairs." She breaks the kiss long enough to breathe the word against my lips. "Now."
The apartment above the shop is small, cluttered with the overflow of her life. Books stacked on every surface. Aunt Rene's prescription bottles organized by day. A half-finished mug of tea gone cold on the coffee table.
I barely register any of it.
Lacy backs toward her bedroom, pulling me with her by my tie. The fabric cuts into my neck but I don't care. Don't care about anything except the heat in her eyes and the promise of her hands already working my jacket off my shoulders.
"This stupid suit." She shoves the fabric down my arms, nearly ripping a seam. "You don't need to be smaller, Stone. You don't need to fit."
"Lacy—"
"I don't want agreeable small talk and proper fork placement. I want you." She yanks my shirt free from my waistband, buttons scattering as she pulls it open. "Big and awkward and too honest for your own good."
Her palms press flat against my heart. Fingers spreading wide like she's trying to touch all of me at once.
I groan, head falling back.
"That's what I want." She pushes me backward until my legs hit her bed and I sit hard. "The truth of you."
She straddles my lap, dress riding up her thighs. I grip her hips, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where leg meets hip, and she gasps.
"We don't have to—" I start, but she covers my mouth with her hand.
"I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Right now, no cameras, no commentary, just us." She rolls her hips against me and I bite back a curse. "Tell me you want that."
"God, yes."
I lift her enough to shove the dress up and over her head. She's not wearing much underneath, just scraps of lace that make my brain short-circuit. I bury my face between her breasts, breathing her in, tasting salt and soap and something uniquely Lacy.
She threads fingers through my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me groan.
"Stone."
I lift my head. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parted.
"I'm sorry," I breathe. "For the fundraiser. For making everything harder."
"Show me." She rocks against me again, deliberate and maddening. "Show me you're sorry."
I flip us. She gasps as her back hits the mattress, and then I'm covering her body with mine, careful of my weight but unable to resist the press of skin on skin. She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my lower back.
"The pants." Her hands fumble with my belt. "Off."
I help, kicking free of the ridiculous suit pants and boxers until there's nothing between us but heat and intention and three days of missing each other carved into hunger.
"Protection?" I manage.
"Drawer." She points.
I reach, hand shaking slightly as I grab a condom and tear it open. She watches me roll it on with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.
"Come here."
I settle between her thighs, forearms braced on either side of her head. The first press inside makes us both still, breathing hard.
"Okay?" My voice is wrecked.
"More than okay." She tilts her hips, taking me deeper. "Move."
I do. Slow at first, feeling every inch, every clench of her body around mine. But slow doesn't last. Can't last when she's making those sounds, nails raking down my back, breath coming in quick gasps against my neck.
"Harder."
I comply. Drive into her with enough force to shift the bed, headboard thumping against the wall. She cries out, back arching.
"Yes. Like that. Don't hold back."
So I don't. Give her everything, my weight, my strength, the full measure of wanting that's been eating me alive. She meets each thrust with her own urgent rhythm, bodies finding synchrony in the mess of it.
I drop my head to her shoulder, teeth grazing skin, tongue tasting sweat.
"Stone." She tightens around me. Close. "I'm—"
"I know. Me too."
I reach between us, thumb finding the bundle of nerves that makes her whole body jerk. Circle it in time with my thrusts until she's shaking, gasping, nails breaking skin on my shoulders.
"Look at me."
She does. Eyes locked on mine as she comes apart, expression raw and unguarded and so beautiful it steals what's left of my control.
I follow her over, groaning her name into her mouth as she kisses me through it. The release is almost violent. Leaves me trembling and spent and clinging to her like she's the only solid thing in a world gone liquid.
We stay tangled together, breathing in sync, heartbeats gradually slowing.
Her fingers trace patterns on my back. Gentle now. Soothing.
"We're such a mess."
"The best kind."
She laughs, the sound vibrating through both our chests. I ease out of her carefully, dealing with the condom before pulling her against my side. She curls into me, head on my chest, one leg thrown over my thighs.
"I don't regret this." Her voice is quiet but certain. "Any of it. Even the parts that are hard."
"Even me?"
"Especially you." She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. "I need you to trust me to handle the fallout. Not charge in like some kind of protective hero when things get complicated."
"What if I can't help it?"
"Then learn." She kisses me softly. "Because we're in this together or not at all."
I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Together."
"Good." She settles back against my body. "Also, you're burning that suit."
"Deal."
We lie there in comfortable silence until her phone buzzes on the nightstand. She groans but checks it.
Her body goes rigid.
"What?"
"Blair's team leaked something to the press." She scrolls, face pale. "They're calling for a formal review of the placement program. Claiming there's evidence of 'unsuitable matches' and 'public safety concerns.'"
"Evidence?"
"The video from the fundraiser. Plus apparently someone sent them photos of us together. Coming out of my building. At the farmers market." She keeps scrolling, voice getting tighter. "They're framing it as proof the program lacks oversight."
I sit up, anger returning. "This is a hit job."
"Of course it is. Blair's been looking for ammunition since day one." Lacy tosses her phone aside. "The hearing's in three days. They're asking the placement office to present files on all current pairings."
"Can they do that?"
"They're the city council. They can do whatever they want." She rubs her face. "Darius is going to have to testify. You might too."
My stomach drops. The thought of standing in front of a panel, being questioned about my worthiness, my control, my right to be here—
"Hey." Lacy grabs my hand. "We'll figure it out."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But we will." She squeezes my fingers. "You're not in this alone, remember?"
I pull her back down into my arms, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Together."
"Together."
But even as she says it, I feel the weight of what's coming. Blair isn't just attacking the program. She's attacking us. Everything we're trying to build.
And I have no idea how to protect it without making things worse.
My phone buzzes. A text from Darius.
Emergency meeting tomorrow morning. 8am. Don't be late.
I show Lacy.
"Go," she says. "Find out what we're dealing with."
"What about you?"
"I'll call the grant committee. See if I can get ahead of this." She kisses me once more, slow and deep. Heavy with promise and fear and stubborn hope. "We're not letting them win."
"No." I kiss her back. "We're not."
But as I leave her apartment an hour later, dressed in my own clothes with the stupid suit balled up in my arms, I can't shake the feeling that winning might require sacrifices neither of us is ready to make.