Page 60 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
The dam breaks and her beautiful face crumples, then she collapses against my chest, sobs racking her slender frame. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight as she weeps.
"We'll never be able to fix this in time…" she manages between sobs, her voice muffled against my shirt. "Even if you work night and day. It's just too much."
"We'll fix it," I tell her, with more certainty than I actually feel. "All of it."
Then I remember what Sheriff Wolfsbane told me.We take care of our own.
I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "Listen to me, Cassidy. I will not let you fail."
"But…"
"No," I say firmly. "Just trust me, okay? I will find a way. For now, you're coming with me to my house with Marigold, where you'll be safe and warm. Tomorrow is another day."
She lifts those big hazel eyes at me, full of a hope that rips at my chest like claws. And I know.
I will do everything I can to make her smile again. Even the impossible.
We take care of our own.
And I have to do something I never thought I could do. But for Cassidy, I would walk on fire.
The battle's not over. It's only just beginning.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cassidy
Iburrowdeeperintothe twisted sheets, inhaling Gerralt's scent lingering on the pillow. Marigold's warm body vibrates against my side, her rhythmic purring the only sound breaking the suffocating silence. Even with the cat's comfort, emptiness claws at my chest, hollowing me out from the inside.
My phone buzzes again. It's the fifth time she called this morning. Silvia's name flashes on the screen, probably calling to check if I've crawled out of my pit of despair yet. I roll over, burying my face in Gerralt's pillow. The curtains remain drawn despite themidmorning light trying to penetrate the gloom, casting the room in muted shadows that match my mood.
Every time I close my eyes, I see water cascading through the lodge ceilings, soaking into those beautiful floors I spent weeks refinishing. The new drywall, dissolving like wet cardboard. My beautiful new kitchen, ruined.
All that work. All that hope. Gone.
The mental calculations run through my head for the hundredth time. Insurance won't pay for months, if at all. My savings are nearly depleted. Even with the money from the house finally in my bank account, the repairs would take weeks, probably months.
Tourist season will come and go while the lodge sits empty and broken.
Marigold butts her head against my chin, meowing softly. I stroke her automatically, fingers running through her soft fur while my mind remains trapped in an endless loop of failure and regret.
The lodge was supposed to be my fresh start. My declaration of independence. My proof that I could redefine who I am and live life on my own terms.
Now it's just another bad decision in a lifetime of them.
The distant rumble of Gerralt's truck barely registers. The front door opens and closes with a solid thud. Heavy footsteps approach, each one deliberate against the wooden floorboards. The bedroom door swings open, letting in a slice of light that makes me wince.
I don't look up, don't acknowledge his presence. Maybe if I lie still enough, he'll leave me alone with my misery.
"Enough." Gerralt's deep voice fills the room, brooking no argument. "Get up. Get dressed."
I pull the blanket over my head in response.
"I'm too tired," I mumble, my voice hoarse from disuse and crying. "Just let me sleep, please."
The bed dips as Gerralt sits on its edge. His large hands grip the blanket and pull it back despite my weak attempts to hold on. I frown as I take in his appearance.
Is that paint on his face? I reach for his cheek and flick a dried splatter of paint from his skin, then inspect it closer. Yes, it's Witch’s Hearth, alright.
