I remembered the way my mother would greet the day—even the coldest, darkest part of winter, when the sun barely peeked above the horizon—with a hot cup ofchaga tea and a series of stretches. She called itthanksgiving.
“My mother did,” I murmured, gaze locked on Stevie, who nodded.
“It was just a suggestion. Classes like that—physical stuff—might bring people together as much as art and performances and places to meet.”
Dimly, I heard Brakkor snort. “We think Garrak just wants a place to hold poker games.”
And Stevie’s smile flashed. “That’s a good way to bring people together too.”
She turned back to the building, and I was grateful, because for the first time in a million years, I felt as if I could inhale.
Because that smile? It hadn’t been the soft smile of earlier, or the smirk, or the teasing smile of this morning, or the seductive smile of last night.Thatsmile had been pure Stevie, and it had lit up her face in the most incredible way.
I wanted to see it again.
I wanted to see italways.
What the fuck? You’ve only known her a short time…
Did that matter?
And how in all the hells did she know so much about how to bring people together? I remembered that morning, when she’d shown uncommon insight into how to gently ask an awkward question. There was more to thisfascinating little human than she wanted the world to know, wasn’t there?
With a thoughtful frown, I nodded to Brakkor and followed her toward the front entrance. Yeah, I was intrigued by Stevie, and I found myself looking forward to hearing more of her insights into the plans. Maybe she could offer more suggestions of ways to bring people together…
Like me and?—
She’s going to Raleigh tomorrow. Why? Because you need that fifty thousand for the endowment. Try to remember that.
But I was afraid myKteerwasn’t paying attention.
My cock definitely wasn’t.
Stevie
Eastshore Isle was fuckingadorable.
Look, I’d grown up in the South. In some of those places where, between political hatred, generational poverty, systemic racism, and religious ostracization, the small towns weren’t much to write home about. But this place?
This place was like…a small town done right. Something out of a Hallmark movie, maybe. Everyone was friendly—suspiciously so, at times—and there was so much community spirit, I could see why Garrak wanted to build a place to bring people together.
During his meeting with the foreman of the project, I was content to trail along behind, listening to them discuss the various uses for the spaces. But I was surprised at how often Garrak had turned to include me in the conversation, asking my opinion or thoughts.
It had been flattering.
Afterward, he showed me more of the town, and we ended up at Debbie’s Diner, where—I shit you not!—four different people called out, “Welcome to Debbie’s Diner!” when we walked in. Like we were on a sitcom or something.
Garrak must’ve seen my expression because he was smirking as we slid into a booth. “Eastshore is pretty special, huh?”
“It’s almost hard to believe,” I admitted, glancing out the window. “Is it always so…?”
“Friendly?” He picked up the menu. “You ought to have been here during the holidays. I think there was an event every night. Made me wonder if we even needed a community center.”
Without thinking, I leaned across the table and touched his knuckles to get his attention. “Don’t doubt it’s going to help, Garrak,” I assured him. “Your guys—the ones who are assimilating now, and the ones who will be moving from Colorado—need this.”
Yeah, I’d been paying attention to the way he and Korrad and Mr. Kowalski had spoken about plans. Apparently, when the Radiance Lithium mine in Colorado had closed down, a bunch of the orcs whoworked there took their buyouts and moved here to Eastshore, where the CEO already lived. There was a processing plant on the mainland, and some of the males worked there, but others—like Garrak, Brakkor, and Korrad—had found work on the island.
And I knew enough through my studies to know that displaced immigrants needed places like the one Garrak had dreamed up.
