Page 12 of Her Orc Healer

Maybe the world wouldn’t fall apart, butmyworld would. If I stopped and let myself rest, even for a second, it could all catch up to me. The bills I hadn’t figured out how to pay yet. The supplies I still needed to buy. The crushing weight of responsibility, the years of carrying everything alone.

Finola had left. My father had died. Maeve had no one else but me.

Icouldn’tslow down.

A sharp inhale stung my nose. I clenched my jaw, gripping the cup tighter as a betrayal of tears pricked behind my eyes. I wouldnotcry in front of this orc.

Kazrek exhaled through his nose, something thoughtful in his gaze. He must have seen it—the way my shoulders curled in and I suddenly refused to look at him—because he didn’t press further.

Instead, he nodded toward Maeve’s sleeping form, his voice quieter this time. “She needs you whole."

A single sentence, but the weight of it pressed against my ribs, and I swallowed hard, blinking against the burning behind my eyes.

The room felt too still. I needed to leave.

Pushing the cup back into his hands, I rose to my feet, crossing the small space to Maeve’s cot. She stirred slightly when I scooped her up, her warm little body settling instinctively against my shoulder.

Kazrek watched but didn’t move to stop me.

“Thank you for your concern,” I said, forcing my voice back to something brisk and even. “But I can handle it.”

I turned, stepping toward the door—

—and the room swayed.

The sudden vertigo hit fast, curling around me like an undertow. My knees weakened, my balance shifting. Maeve’s weight threatened to pull me forward, but before I could stumble, a firm hand grasped my elbow.

Kazrek.

His grip was sure, his strength effortless as he anchored me in place. "I've got her," he said, his voice that same low, implacable rumble.

I wanted to argue, wanted to insist that I could manage. But my limbs were uncooperative, the world still tilting dangerously at the edges.

Before I could protest, Kazrek slid Maeve out of my arms, settling her against his broad chest as if she weighed nothing at all. Her small fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of his tunic, her sleepy sigh muffled against the warm expanse of his shoulder.

"I'm walking you home," Kazrek said.

I stiffened. "That isn't—"

"It isn't up for debate." His eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "You can argue all you like, but you won't make it a block without tipping over. Neither of us wants to see Maeve dropped in the street."

He said it without malice, without condescension—just facts laid bare. It infuriated me. Mainly because he was right.

I huffed, crossing my arms against my ribs as heat curled low in my stomach. "I don't need a bodyguard."

Kazrek tilted his head slightly, considering. "No. You need rest. But since I doubt you'll allow yourself that, I'll settle for making sure you get home in one piece."

I exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through my hair. “Fine,” I muttered. “But only to my door.”

Kazrek didn’t argue. He just nodded like he’d known I’d come to this conclusion. Like he understood something about me that I hadn’t wanted him to.

That certainty—it unsettled me.

Most people, when faced with my resistance, either pushed back hard or walked away entirely. Kazrek did neither. He just stood, immovable as stone, patient as the tide.

Maeve sighed again against his shoulder, small and trusting. She fit there too easily, curled against him like she belonged in the steady space he carved.

A strange, traitorous thought curled in my mind before I could stop it:Would I fit there, too?

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