Page 15 of Wild Claim

“The stew will get cold,” I said, turning back to the stove. A moment later, I set a steaming bowl in front of Rory, then poured us each a mug of hot spiced apple cider. I sat across from him at the table, my hands wrapped around the mug as I watched the steam curl upwards. “Can you tell me more?”

“A couple of years back, I disappeared in these mountains to live on the land and exist. But being trapped in a turkey’s body... it’s a cruel lesson in humility. Something else entirely than what I had wanted. Life went on regardless, and I couldn’t do anything but try to survive. It’s a shitty kind of torture.”

I could only imagine it. Rory as a turkey, watching from the sidelines as families laughed and talked, as friends shared meals and made memories. The image tugged at my heartstrings.

There was a raw honesty in his gaze that made it impossible to look away. Even though his story felt unreal, it still touched me. Every word he said felt like it came from a painful place.

“How long have you been cursed?” I said, though part of me feared the answer.

“Longer than I’d thought possible to endure. Several seasons have come and gone. Enough time for me to miss what it felt like to walk on two legs or to speak with a human voice. Enough time to regret a lot of things.”

The raw way Rory spoke opened something in me. A floodgate of memories I’d kept locked away. “This farmhouse is all I have now,” I said, gesturing to the weathered walls around us. “Everyone tells me to sell it and move on, but it’s been in my family for generations. My grandmother...”

I paused, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “She was the heart of this place, and I can’t imagine parting from all these memories.”

Rory’s attention was on me completely. Whenever I tried to tell Todd about my grandmother, he seemed more interested in his phone than in what I had to say. The realization sent a pang through my chest. Todd never loved me. I was the only one trying to make our relationship work.

“Tell me about her,” Rory said.

So, I did. I told him about summer evenings spent on the porch, shelling peas and listening to Grandma’s stories. About the secret ingredient in her apple pie that made it the talk of the Maple Ridge Marketplace. About the way she’d hum off-key as she worked, filling the house with a melody of love and contentment.

“When she passed,” I said, my voice catching, “I inherited more than just this house. I inherited her legacy, her dreams for this land.”

Rory nodded. “It’s a lot to shoulder alone.”

“It is,” I said, surprised it was so easy to talk to him. “Some days, I wonder if I’m cut out for it. If I can make it thrive the way she always wanted.”

“There are ways to bring the land back,” Rory said. “Farming methods that could bring this place back to life without changing what makes it special.”

I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “Oh, really?”

“Start off by rotating your crops to enrich the soil naturally. Or introduce beehives to boost pollination. We could even set up a small greenhouse for year-round produce.”

We?The word sat rent-free in my mind, sending a flutter through my stomach.

The afternoon light faded to evening. Listening to Rory sparked a change in me. For the first time since inheriting this place, a spark of hope and possibility sparked within me. His presence here could mean more than casual company. It could be about support, partnership, or even something deeper.

Rory savored the last of his cider, his rough hands cradling the mug with surprising gentleness.

“You must be freezing. Why don’t you take a hot shower? It’ll help you warm up.”

He set his mug down slowly. His gaze met mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Maybe I should,” he said, though he made no move to get up. It was as if he didn’t want to leave this moment we’d created.

“There are clean towels in the bathroom.”

Rory stood, stretching his muscular frame.

A part of me wished for that blanket to fall clean off.

“Then I’ll take you up on the offer.” He started down the hall, paused, and turned back, a sly smirk on his face. “Do your best to not peek.”

A rush of heat flooded my cheeks. “I... Why would I?” I stammered, but he was already out of earshot, leaving me to stew in my own emotions.

The sound of water running filled the house, and I cleared the table slowly, my mind a whirl of thoughts.

Could I really believe his story? Every rational part of me screamed no, but my heart told a different tale. If what he said was true, then he had already been a part of my life for longer than I realized. The thought both warmed and scared me.

The shower shut off, and after a while, Rory emerged from the bathroom, steam billowing around him. He had a large towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his hairy chest still glistening with droplets of water. My eyes widened, and I tried—really tried—to look away, but my gaze kept flicking back to him like a moth to a flame.

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