"I didn't do anything."
"You were here." His arms wrapped around her, steadying her on the unfamiliar terrain. "That's everything."
She wanted to argue, but the words died in her throat as he kissed her. Right there on championship ice, with thousands of people watching and confetti still falling and his teammates whooping in the background.
My ridiculous, wonderful, control-freak orc,she thought as she kissed him back.Look what you've done to me.
The celebration lasted hours.
Champagne in the locker room. Speeches from the owner. A post-game press conference where Tarmek gave characteristically monosyllabic answers while somehow making reporters laugh. A team dinner at the nicest restaurant in Greenwood Hollow, where Edie discovered that professional hockey players could consume truly impressive quantities of steak.
Through all of it, Tarmek kept her close. His hand on her lower back. His arm around her shoulders. His attention drifting towards her during every lull in conversation, like he needed to verify she was still there.
The orc who used to flinch when she moved things in his kitchen, who counted his routines like a religious ritual, and who kept his world in such rigid order that a single displaced coffee mug could ruin his entire day. That same orc now tangled his fingerswith hers under the table like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I didn't break him,she thought, squeezing his hand.I just... made space. For both of us.
It was nearly 2 AM when they finally escaped.
The restaurant had emptied, the team had dispersed, and Greenwood Hollow had gone quiet in the way small towns did after midnight. Tarmek drove them home through empty streets, one hand on the wheel and one hand resting on her thigh like it belonged there.
Home.
The word still made her heart flutter, even after all these months.
She'd spent years avoiding that word. Years treating every stop as temporary, every connection as brief, every relationship as something to leave before it could leave her. Home meant staying. Home meant roots. Home meant depending on someone else for your happiness. Home meant risk.
But driving through the quiet streets of Greenwood Hollow, with Tarmek's warmth beside her and the championship trophy secured in the back seat, the word didn't feel scary anymore. It felt like the only thing that made sense.
They pulled into the parking garage beneath their condo and parked next to her camper. A camper that hadn't moved in six months.
She stopped to look at it and felt Tarmek tense, despite his silence.
“I think it’s time to sell it,” she said quietly, and his hand tightened around hers to the point where it was almost painful.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. She deserves a better life than being copped up in a garage.” She turned and looked up at him. “And I don’t need an escape route anymore.”
“Are you sure?” he asked again. His expression was carefully neutral, but she knew him now. She could see the vulnerability beneath the control.
He's still afraid,she realized.Still waiting for me to leave.
"I spent years running," she said quietly. "Telling myself I didn't need roots. I didn't need anyone to depend on." She pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "I was wrong."
"Edie—"
"I'm not going anywhere, Tarmek." She met his eyes. "This is it for me. You're it. This ridiculous condo with its color-coded closets and alphabetized spices and exactly twelve throw pillows that I keep rearranging just to watch you twitch."
A smile tugged at his mouth. "You do that on purpose."
"Obviously."
"I've noticed."
"I know."
He smiled and took her hand and led her to the elevator. The ride up was quiet, both of them exhausted in the best possible way. When the doors opened, she practically stumbled into the hallway.
