Lacy worries the edge of a book spine. "You're braver than me."
"Louder, maybe. Not braver." I pull her close. She smells like vanilla and old paper. Home. "You launched this place from nothing. Took care of your aunt. Survived a breakup that clearly hurt. That's bravery. I just yell at city inspectors and crush awnings."
She snorts into my chest. "Your self-awareness is refreshing."
"I contain multitudes. Mostly awkwardness and good intentions."
We stand there, wrapped together. The bookstore settles around us. Creaking wood. Hum of the espresso machine. Distant traffic.
My phone lights up again. This time, it's the cultural liaison office.
Formal notice: Councilwoman Blair has requested a review of your placement. Report tomorrow, 9 AM.
Ice slides through my veins. Lacy reads over my shoulder. Her grip tightens.
"What does that mean?"
"It means she's making her move." I keep my voice steady. Calm. Even as anger simmers. "Trying to pull me from the program."
"Can she do that?"
"If she manufactures enough concern, maybe." I tuck my phone away. Meet Lacy's gaze. "But I won't go quietly. This placement matters. You matter."
Her eyes shine. "Stone..."
"I mean it." I cradle her face between my hands. "I've spent my whole life trying to fit without losing myself. Here, with you,I don't have to choose. I can be orc and belong. That's worth fighting for."
She kisses me. Hard and desperate. When put distance between us, her voice shakes. "We'll fight together."
"Together," I echo.
That evening,I walk Lacy home. The city glows around us, streetlights flickering on. She leans against my arm, exhausted but smiling.
"Today was good," she murmurs. "Despite everything."
"The kids were great. You were great."
"You were great." She bumps my hip. "Stop deflecting compliments."
"It's a character flaw. I'm working on it."
At her door, she turns. Loops arms around my neck. "Stay tonight?"
Warmth floods me. "You sure? Big day tomorrow."
"Exactly. I want you here."
I kiss her slow. Thorough. "Then I'm here."
Inside, we collapse on her couch. She curls into my side. I stroke her hair, mind churning. Tomorrow's review looms. Blair's machinations. The grant. The festival. So many ways this could fall apart.
But Lacy's breathing evens out. Trust in every line of her body. She chose me. Messy, clumsy, earnest me.
I'll be damned if I let Blair or anyone else take this away from us. Not after everything we've built together, not after the laughter we've shared and the quiet moments of understanding that have knitted themselves between us like threads in a tapestry.
My phone goes off against my thigh, the vibration breaking through my thoughts. Another text from Darius, glowing in the dimness of Lacy's living room.
Good luck tomorrow. You'll need it.
