Page 83 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
I explained how Abagail had chosen Brovish and me, which was an honor in the orc kingdom, that we’d bonded to her through her care.
Brovish had moved closer.
My mother noticed. Her gaze flicked between us before returning to the twins, but her expression had turned tense again.
She reached through the fence, extending her hand. The larger twin stopped nursing and approached, sniffing Carol’s fingers before returning to her mother.
“Your father would’ve loved this,” my mother said quietly. “He would’ve been fascinated by it all.”
My throat closed around words I couldn’t form.
Brovish’s hand brushed mine, his finger hooking briefly around my own. There and gone before my mother could notice.
“Brovish.” Krem’s voice carried across the yard. “The fizzlings have created a chain reaction discharge. We need your grounding abilities immediately.”
A crack of static electricity lit up the western enclosure.
Brovish’s jaw tightened. “I should?—”
“Go,” I said. “I’ll finish the tour.”
My mother watched him leave. “He seems very attentive.”
“He is.”
“To the creatures or to you?”
The question landed in my chest and stuck there. “Both.”
We went back inside and while my mother had more tea with Krem, I got some work done.
The afternoon passed quickly and she and I left the facility as the sun started creeping toward the horizon. My mother followed me in her rental, maintaining the same careful distance as when she’d arrived.
At my cottage, I made dinner while she set the table. We moved around each other carefully, a delicate dance of too-long politeness.
After we’d eaten and taken care of dishes, we sat at the kitchen table with fresh tea between us. My mother had taken Dad’s chair without seeming to notice. Maybe she didn’t remember it was his. Or she did and sat there anyway.
We made small talk, speaking of the weather. Her flight. Whether the rental car handled well on dirt roads.
The small talk exhausted itself and quiet filled the space where words should be.
“After your father died,” my mother finally said, “I watched you disappear into that clinic for three years.”
I went rigid. “I didn’t disappear. I was working.”
“You were hiding.” She said it gently, but that didn’t make it cut less. “And I understood why. I just couldn’t reach you through it.”
“You didn’t try very hard.” The words came out sharp.
“I didn’t know how. I’d already walked away once. Coming back felt like admitting I’d made a big mistake.” She traced the rim of her mug with one finger. “And I wasn’t ready to face that. Are you going to be staying out here forever? What about a proper life?”
“I am building a proper life, Mother. My own.”
“Your own. With orcs. And creatures that spit static and steal jewelry.” She sighed, a long, dramatic one. “You could’ve had a respectable position. A practice in Portland. This place is a fantasy. It isn’t sustainable.”
“It is. And it’s what I want.”
“Want? Or what you’ve run to?” She met my gaze, her eyes probing. “You were always good at finding places to run.”
