"Liar. Kowalski texted Fen, and Fen texted everyone. Apparently you tried to assassinate him with a slap shot."
"It was five and a half feet wide."
"Still counts as attempted murder in some jurisdictions."
He grunted. She set down her brush and climbed down the scaffolding with the careless grace of someone who'd spent years working at heights. She crossed the space between them and stood on her tiptoes to examine his face.
"What's going on in there?" She tapped his forehead. "Lots of brooding happening. I can tell."
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood. You have resting brood face."
"That's not?—"
"It's a condition. Very serious. The only cure is telling me what's wrong."
He should deflect. Change the subject. Return to the comfortable pattern of their interactions—her teasing, him resisting, the slow dance of attraction and denial. But standing here, looking at this impossible woman who'd crashed into his life like a paint-covered meteor, he felt all that control crumble.
"I don’t want you to leave," he said.
Her breath caught.
"I know that's—" He stopped, then tried again. "You have every right to go. But I?—"
"Tarmek."
"I couldn't make myself tell you. Because once you knew how I felt you would go, and I'm not?—"
"Tarmek."
He fell silent. She reached up and cupped his face in her paint-stained hands, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"You ridiculous, beautiful, completely insane orc," she said softly. "Did you really think I didn’t know?"
"I—"
"I stay because I want to stay. Not because of logistics. Not because my camper doesn't work. Because of you."
Something cracked in his chest.
"You're not leaving?" His voice came out rough. Uncertain.
"I'm not leaving." She smiled, and it was the softest smile he'd ever seen on her face. "Not today, anyway. Maybe not for a while. We'll figure it out as we go."
"I don't like 'figuring it out as we go.'"
"I know. It's one of the many things that drives me crazy about you." She tugged him down until their foreheads touched. "But that's what we're doing. Okay? And no more unilateral decisions about my safety. We do this together."
"I can't promise not to worry about your safety."
"I'm not asking you to stop worrying. I'm asking you to include me in the worrying. Partnership, remember? That means both of us."
Partnership.
He hadn't thought of it that way. He'd been so focused on providing, protecting, and building walls around her that he'd forgotten to include her in the process. Orc instincts, he realized, weren't always right. They told him to protect his mate at any cost—but they didn't account for a mate who needed autonomy as much as safety.
"I'll try," he said finally.
