“I am real,” Grak says.
“Holy shit…breathe, Ginger,” I say, feeling faint.
Finally able to meet Grak’s gaze, his face softens as he realizes something. “You are tired, Just Ginger.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Is it okay if I just freak out for a few more minutes?”
“I’ll allow it, Just Ginger.”
“Ginger. Just say Ginger.”
He nods. “You are tired and surprised to see me. I shall show myself out and I will prove myself tomorrow.”
I register what he says. “Out? Out where? It’s freezing!”
What am I saying? I can’t let him stay with me, because he’s a real monster. And yet, where is he supposed to go?
“I cannot sleep in your room tonight. Indeed, some mates are so looking forward to being alone together that they skip over the feats of strength, but I ask you to honor this for me. Since I have so little to hang on to when it comes to an honorable orc ancestry.”
Of course. I get it, even if I still can’t fathom that this is real.
“Wait,” I say. “Where will you go if you can’t go home?”
“I had not thought that far ahead.”
“There’s no heat, but there’s a cabin in the woods with a fireplace that works. And you can take this sleeping bag,” I say, going to retrieve my old sleeping bag from the closet.
“I will find the cabin you describe.” He takes the sleeping bag and kisses me on the forehead, his hand brushing the side of my neck.
My body tingles at this brief contact, even if my brain is still buffering that I’m in the presence of a real monster.
“I chose a wise and kind best friend and wife. Thank you.”
I feel stupid and guilty for letting him leave.
But I see what he’s doing. Beyond the tradition thing, Grak can see I’m overwhelmed, and he doesn’t want to force himself on me.
And I already really like that about him.
Somehow, he really is like the person I know from the game, and it’s going to take all my strength to stop blurring those lines.
Then again, I’ll probably wake up tomorrow and discover that this has all been a dream.
Chapter Eight
Grak
I unfold the sleeping bag, and I’m not sure how this is supposed to keep a person warm.
I fit both my legs inside it, though not comfortably. I tend to sleep on my bed with my legs spread out wide. This bag is constraining and only covers up to my waist.
I lie here in this strange half-built house she called a “cabin.” I think about Ginger. She is so much prettier in person than I thought she would be.
Not that it matters. I already loved her before we met. I would love her no matter what she looks like. Her brain, the way she uses her mouth with intelligence, and her wise eyes. I wish to be with her.
But if she doesn’t want me, perhaps I should try giving her space.
I noticed upon arrival that many things around this humble farm needed fixing.
