After the gifts and food, the gathering shifted to storytelling and advice-giving. The women formed a circle around Beth, sharing wisdom about childbirth and child-rearing, though Holly, Aunt Inla, and Grannie Lil were the only ones with true experience.
“You’ll be here for the birth, right?” Holly turned to me.
“Oh, I…” The assumption startled me. “I’m not sure I’ll still be in town. My contract ends in a few days.”
Silence fell over the group, their faces registering disappointment.
“Surely you can extend your stay,” Aunt Inla said. “The baby isn’t due until mid-January.”
“I’d like to, but…” How could I explain that my entire adult life had been structured around moving on, never staying longer than a contract required?
“Well, we’ll just have to convince you,” Grannie Lil announced, her tone brooking no argument. “Can’t have you missing the first orc-human birth in Lonesome Creek. It’s historic.”
The conversation continued, but the moment left me unsettled. These women had incorporated me into their future plans, their community rituals. They spoke as if my presence was a given, not a temporary arrangement with a fixed endpoint.
And the most unsettling part? Part of me wanted to stay. Wanted to be here when Beth’s baby arrived. Wanted to see the town transition from winter to spring.
I wanted to explore whatever was growing between me and Becken.
As the evening wound down, I helped clear away wrapping paper and empty plates. The group gradually thinned, guests departing with hugs and well-wishes for Beth and Ruugar. Soon only a handful of us remained. Holly wiped down tables, Greel restocked the bar. Aunt Inla took down the decorations.
Becken stood near the base of the stairs that led to the hotel rooms above, watching me with that intense gaze that seemed to see through all my carefully constructed barriers.
I approached him, suddenly shy despite the connection we’d shared almost a week ago. “Heading up?”
He nodded. “You?”
“Yes. It’s been a long day.”
We stood at the bottom of the stairs, neither making a move. In the soft glow of the decorative lights, Becken’s features looked less harsh, more vulnerable.
My hand rested on the banister, inches from his. If I moved my fingers slightly, they would brush against his.
“Carla.” The way he said my name sent warmth roaring through me. “I?—”
“Becken, could you help move the tables before you go?” Greel called from across the room.
Becken’s expression shuttered, a neutral mask sliding into place. “Of course.”
“Goodnight,” I said, starting up the stairs. “See you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” His eyes held mine before he turned away.
I climbed the stairs, feeling his gaze follow me until I started down the hall. Inside my room, I leaned against the closed door, my heart racing as if I’d run the entire way.
Watching Beth surrounded by people who genuinely cared about her future had made my chest ache in a way I wasn't prepared for. I'd never had people who wanted to be part of my life beyond a contract's end. I'd made sure of it. After my parents died and my aunt and uncle made it clear I was a burden they couldn't wait to shed, I'd learned that leaving first hurt less than being left behind.
Tonight, these women had talked about me being here for Beth's birth like it was inevitable, like I belonged.
But I only had a few days left in Lonesome Creek.
Then the contract would end, and I’d have to say goodbye.
Chapter 16
Carla
The morning after the baby shower, I approached the arena clutching my carefully assembled supplies and the thermos of cocoa warm in my gloved hands. The cloth bag containing Hail’s handmade pottery mugs bumped against my hip with each step, and the container of Christmas cookies I’d made with Jessi last night kept trying to slip from my grasp. My breath formed little clouds in the frigid morning air, but excitement bubbled through me like champagne.
