He forced himself to meet her eyes. "It seemed... appropriate. Symbolic, even."
"Symbolic," she repeated, amusement creeping in. "You? Buying baby clothes? Or were you planning to use it as a white flag of surrender"
"I don't expect it to make up for anything," Dorian said stiffly. "But I... I was wrong about how I handled things. And I won't hurt Rune again. I want to do right by her. I swear I’ll take care of her. "
Gracie studied him for a long moment, weighing every word. "Why?"
"Because it's the right thing to do."
Her brows lifted. "Try again. Dig deep"
He seemed to grapple with unfamiliar words before they came out in a rush, a raw honesty scraping out. "Because being without her..." He exhaled, the words reluctant but true. "I feel empty."
Gracie's expression softened, but only slightly. "Think less about you and more about her, yeah?" Dorian nodded once, like he was taking mental notes. Gracie studied him carefully, the smile fading. Finally, she snorted softly as if she had come to a decision. "You are bloody useless at this. God help ya."
Dorian inclined his head slightly, as though she'd just confirmed something he already knew.
"But," she continued, her tone softening, "a child deserves to know his father. Even if he is a dickhead."
Something in his chest moved at that, not relief, not quite shame. He opened his mouth to speak again, but heavy footsteps sounded behind her.
"What's he doing here?" Rune's father growled, filling the hallway with his presence.
"Finn," Gracie said warningly.
"I told you-"
"At least for closure," she cut him off, firm but calm. "Let him have his say."
Finn scowled, but didn't argue further. His glare lingered on Dorian, promising this was temporary, and then he turned away. Gracie looked back at Dorian, eyes steady. "She's at the farm. If you're serious, that's where you'll find her. But you'd better have more to say than 'I'm sorry' and a bit of cotton."
As he stepped off the porch, he knew the truth: finding Rune was only the first step. Getting her to listen to him was going to be an entirely different story.
***
The trip to the farm was fraught with tension. For the first time in his life, Dorian was walking into a situation where the outcome was utterly unknown. Everything usually was in place before the encounter. Scripts rehearsed, leverage calculated, outcomes secured. But here? Rune held all the cards, and he had none.
The yard opened up before him, stone walls and slate roofs slick with last night's rain. Her grandfather appeared in a flat cap and wellies, flanked by a pair of sheepdogs which immediately bounded forward, circling with joyous enthusiasm. Dorian froze, every muscle stiff, the hem of his trousers already damp with mud.
"Dogs can smell fear, you know," the old man said, voice amused. "Best not stand so stiff, lad."
Before Dorian could answer, Gracie called from the gate. "This is-"
"I know," Gramps interrupted, eyes narrowing on him with the shrewdness of age. "Dorian, isn't it?"
Gracie blinked. "How do you know him?"
The old man's smile was knowing. "You don't know? Well, I reckon he'll tell you when the time's right."
"You here for our Rune bach?"
"Yes," Dorian said simply.
"She's by the barn, round the back. Bit of a walk. Go on, I'll follow." He cocked his head. "Want a pair of wellies?"
"I'm fine," Dorian muttered, already regretting it as he stepped into the muck.
The dogs padded along behind, Gramps with them, and tension gathered around Dorian's shoulders as the outline of the barn grew closer. The air smelt of hay and manure, of damp earth and livestock, and every nerve in his body recoiled. His polished shoes squelched with each step, flecks of mud climbing higher up his trousers. The smell clung, pungent and inescapable. His skin itched with the thought of contamination, his every instinct screamed to run.
