Page 11 of The Orc's Sweetheart
That superior nonhuman strength would come in handy about now. Could the island please have magical properties that’ll let me make a wish for extra strength? Though, if I were to be granted a wish, would I want it to be for super strength?
I’ve just got to keep going a little farther and then I can give my lungs and sore muscles a breather.
Almost there. Almost there. Almost there.
When I reach the fork in the road Beryl mentioned, and I’m sure no one can see or hear me, I carefully set down the handles and bend over with my hands on my knees, inhaling big gulps of air. I’m so tired, I can’t even fully appreciate the rolling green hills around me and the lazy waves crashing below.
Wiping away my sweat-stache with the back of my hand, I feel grateful no one is here to bear witness to me in this disheveled state. Kraken Cove stretches out down below and I allow myself only a brief glance—promising the beach I’ll appreciate its beauty at a later, calmer time—before staring at the cobbled path continuing toward another small hill.
I will not underestimate these hills again.
I look at the cart, then back at the path a couple of times, and realize I need to think logically and set my pride aside for a second.
Considering the soreness of my palms, the quivering of my thighs—and not the good kind—plus how far I still have to go, I might have to break this trip up into more manageable portions.
Decision made and pride swallowed, I set my plan in motion.
First, I push the cart off the path, in case it might be in someone’s way, but also to partially hide it from Bodin, not wanting him to enjoy the evidence of my defeat.
Then, I take off my pretty loafers before I completely ruin them—or they ruin me—and change into my running shoes. I grab a bag to throw over each shoulder and a box to carry in my arms, then set off toward the cottage. It might take a few trips, but this way I don’t need to navigate the entire heavy cart in one go and risk injuring myself more than I already have.
I refuse to think of Bodin as I walk. I refuse to think of how his bulging biceps felt wrapped around me. Of how perfectly I fit in his arms. How I’ve never felt small, but with him…
“No, Tilly! Don’t even go there. Think about your patients. Think about Starry Hill. Think about all the creatures you’ll meet tomorrow,” I instruct myself, hoping if I speak out loud that it’ll stop my intrusive Bodin-centered thoughts and redirect my brain to think of my actual priorities.
At the base of two hills, I spot a quaint dark stone cottage and wonder if that will be my closest neighbor, and who that neighbor might be. Surely it won’t be Bodin. He probably lives in a cave under a hill, away from creatures who might breathe too loudly around him.
What would my name sound like when he says it? Would he call me Tilly like I suggested, or Matilda to keep things formal? Not like I’ll ever know because he clearly doesn’t like me and…
My mind blanks and I almost drop the box as the most picturesque cottage comes into view.
It’s love at first sight.
A yellow front door—just like I’ve dreamed of—creamy sandstone walls, a tiled roof, a garden filled with flowers in purple, pink, yellow, and blue, and a chimney calling for cozy evenings. In my mind, my future plays out behind that butter-yellow door and I instinctively know, deep down in my bones, that I made the right decision to move to Starry Hill.
With my end goal firmly in front of me, I push my muscles into motion to cover the remaining distance, just like I do when I’m on a long run and my body is reaching its limit.
I strengthen my grip on the box and raise my chin, allowing my smile to spread as excitement courses through my veins, and I practically float down the flagstone path toward my new home.
It didn’t even occur to me to ask Bodin for a key, but I balance the box higher on my arms so I can turn the knob, holding my breath in the hopes that it’s unlocked. Thankfully, luck is on my side, and I push the door open easily.
Placing the box on the floor and dropping the bags from my aching shoulders, I get my first real look at my home. Rustic exposed beams spaced evenly against the arched white ceiling make the small space feel big enough for any of Starry Hill’s residents.
To my left is the living room with large couches facing a fireplace that can heat the whole house. I can already imagine myself lying on a rug in the center of the room, scrapbooking supplies spread out around me as I decorate my memory book to my heart’s content.
I walk into the open-plan kitchen next and throw open the window to air out the cottage. It’s not particularly stuffy, someone must’ve ventilated it recently, but I can do with the extra breeze against my sweaty skin.
The gentle sounds of waves breaking on the shore filter into the house, along with the sweet fragrance of the flowers from the garden, and I stand still for a moment in a ray of sunshine beaming directly into my home, closing my eyes to take it all in.
This must be what heaven is like.
I practically skip to the bedroom at the back of the house, quirking my head at the excessively large bed with a rustic wooden frame taking up most of the space. I don’t need something of this size, but I can’t help thinking of spreading out across it, starfishing to my heart’s content, or snuggling under a mountain of bedding on a chilly night. After my twin bed in Audrey’s apartment, it could be a nice change.
I am most definitely not picturing Bodin in this bed, despite how well the frame suits him. He’d comfortably fit next to me, or… Nope. Definitely not thinking about that.
I wrench myself away from the unwelcome direction of my thoughts, and peek into the bathroom. There’s an old claw-foot bathtub that I know I’ll be in tonight, soaking away the aches and pains of my sore muscles. In the corner,there’s also a modern shower that must have been added more recently. This bathroom has the best of both worlds.
I open the tap in the basin and splash some water on my face, belatedly remembering there are no towels when I reach for one.
