Page 29 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
“And what about loyalty?” My voice wavers and something hot crawls up in my throat, but I swallow it down. “Fidelity? Or was that too much to ask in your opinion, Mom?”
"You're romanticizing marriage." Patricia sighs. "But if you don’t want to patch things up with Jason, I won’t insist. You could just come back to the city with me and start fresh there.”
Start fresh there? So I can build something that is dictated by her idea of what is good for me? So she can parade me to a string of rich men who would treat me like some trophy on a wall for a few years, then discard me for a newer model when they lost interest?
Never again.
My fingers curl into fists, nails pressing into my palms.
“Start fresh with you?” My voice cracks, but I don’t care anymore. “So I can become a rich, bitter woman who sees marriage as a business transaction? So I can be so unhappy that the very idea of love and happiness makes my stomach turn sour?”
Patricia doesn’t hesitate. Her expression remains perfectly composed, her voice smooth as glass. “Happiness is fleeting, dear. Practicality is forever.”
Something inside me shatters, sharp and jagged. Months,years, of doubt and second-guessing and bending myself to fit someone else’s mold presses against my ribs, clogging up my throat.
“What is so wrong with believing in me?” My voice is a whisper now, raw and hollow. “Why can’t you just say you support me?”
Patricia exhales sharply, rubbing at her temple like this conversation is exhausting her, but I don’t miss the way her lower lip trembles. “Cassidy, please, I just want what’s best for you.”
The heavy thud of boots echoes from the hallway in a slow, deliberate rhythm that cuts through the tense atmosphere like a blade. A towering, mountain of a man appears in the hallway, walking toward us with a frown scary enough to send an entire army running with their tails tucked between their legs.
Patricia doesn’t even spare him a glance, too caught up in the exchange to turn around to see who’s coming.
Then he steps into the room.
Gerralt stops just inside the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame. His amber eyes sweep over the room, lingering on me first, assessing, before locking on my mother with a gaze carved from stone.
Patricia turns slowly, eyes narrowing as she takes in the sheer size of him. Her lips press into the thinnest line imaginable, and she exhales through her nose in that particular way she does when she's faced with something beneath her standards.
"I see at least you hired some help." Her gaze flicks over his worn flannel, the tool belt slung low on his hips, the faint traces of sawdust still clinging to his boots. "But please tell me you made sure to check his reference first."
Gerralt doesn’t flinch under her scrutiny. If anything, his jaw sets a little tighter.
"Cassidy was very thorough in her selection," he says, his voice low and steady. "And the renovation project here is well underway."
Patricia’s expression doesn’t shift, but I can see the subtle way her upper lip slightly purses at the way he stands up to her.
"I see," she says lightly, and I know that tone. It's the one she uses when pretending she isn't silently cataloging exactly how little shethinks of someone. "A contractor’s opinion on his own work is rarely anything but glowing, dear. Especially an orc."
Gerralt’s arms cross over his chest, casually, like he has all the time in the world to entertain whatever preconceived notion she’s fishing for.
"Is me being an orc a problem?"
Her smile is thin, practiced, and I know she’s going to attack without mercy.
"Not at all." She turns slightly toward me. "As long as you keep your relation strictly professional. Not that I would expect anything less from you."
My stomach clenches.
Gerralt doesn’t react, at least not in the way I expect. A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his voice remains calm, steady.
"Cassidy doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone and she certainly doesn’t have to entertain anyone judging her in her own house."
Patricia stiffens. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." He shifts his weight, grounding himself, but he doesn't move beyond the threshold. "She’s doing just fine without your interference and her relationships are none of your business."
My mother has been many things in my life. She’s been unyielding, critical, overbearing, and many times all at once. But I have never seen her at a loss for words.
