Page 23 of Cider, Spice & Orcish Nights

MADDIE

I ’ve been trying to keep myself busy all morning—kneading bread dough with more force than necessary, scrubbing the bakery counters until they practically shine, even fussing over the little patch of mums I planted by the front step.

Anything to keep my mind from racing straight down the path to him.

It doesn’t work. Not really. Because every time the door creaks, my heart leaps so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t bust clean through my ribs, expecting Thornak to be there with that hulking frame and wary, searching eyes.

When it’s just Liora dropping off a parcel or old Mrs. Tallow wanting tea, I paste on a smile, but inside it feels like something hollow is echoing around, waiting to be filled.

The orchard’s glowing out my kitchen window, all coppery leaves catching the sun like tiny lanterns. A soft wind rustles through the branches, sending a shower of gold drifting down to the grass. It looks so heartbreakingly lovely that it nearly undoes me.

I step outside just to breathe it in, apron still dusted with flour, hands wiping nervously against the fabric.

The orchard air is cool and sweet, thick with that familiar scent of bruised apples and damp earth.

I start down one of the rows without thinking, letting my fingertips brush along the gnarled trunks as I go.

And that’s when I see him.

He’s leaning against the old split-rail fence at the edge of my property, half-shadowed by a big oak whose branches shiver overhead.

For a moment, I’m so sure I’m dreaming my knees actually go a little weak.

He’s got his head down, thumb worrying over something small in his huge hands—so gentle it makes my breath catch.

I stand there frozen for what feels like a lifetime, heart flipping and crashing all over itself. Then my feet decide for me, carrying me across the soft grass until I’m right there on the other side of the fence, staring up at him.

“Thornak,” I whisper, voice cracking.

His head snaps up, eyes going wide and raw in a way that nearly breaks me. For a heartbeat he doesn’t say anything, just drinks me in, like maybe he’s been starving and forgot what full felt like.

“Maddie,” he rumbles, low and rough, like he’s fighting every word.

“I was so scared you’d never come back,” I say before I can stop myself, the words tumbling out all tangled. “That maybe I pushed you too hard, or said the wrong thing, or just—just loved you so much it turned into something heavy you couldn’t carry.”

He makes a sound almost like a growl, but it’s not angry. More like it’s tearing him in two. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare think this is on you.”

“Then why?” I ask, voice rising, hands twisting in my apron. “Why did you stay away? Why let me stand in that kitchen every night hoping you’d come through the door, only for it to stay empty?”

He looks away, jaw clenching, tusks shifting against his lip.

“Because I thought I was protecting you. From… from all this.” He gestures at himself—big scarred arms, battered hands, that brooding brow.

“I’ve spent most of my life convincing myself I’m easier to stomach at a distance.

That it’s better for everyone if I keep to the shadows where I belong. ”

I can’t help it—I step forward and slip through the fence rails so I’m right in front of him. Close enough to see the tiny tremor in his hands, close enough that my chest nearly brushes his when I breathe.

“That’s not what I want,” I say fiercely.

“I’ve never wanted distance from you. I want mornings with your scowl across my bakery table, your boots tracking mud through my hall, your hands on me when the day’s done and we’re both half asleep.

I’m terrified, Thornak, because I’ve never wanted something so badly in my whole stupid life. Not the orchard, not this bakery. You.”

His eyes slam shut, breath shuddering out.

One big hand comes up to cup the side of my face, thumb rough but achingly tender as it sweeps across my cheek.

“Sunshine, you don’t understand what you’re tying yourself to.

I’m not gentle. I’m not soft. I’m a pile of old hurts that never healed right.

I was scared I’d… taint all the bright things in your life.

That loving me would dim that light in you. ”

My throat goes tight, tears welling. I press my palm over his, turning into it so I can kiss the base of his thumb.

“Don’t you see? It’s not your darkness that scares me—it’s the idea of losing you.

Of standing in that kitchen ten years from now wishing I hadn’t let my fear keep me from everything I wanted.

You don’t dim me, Thornak. You make me feel braver. Bigger.”

He lets out a sound, half strangled, and pulls me hard against his chest. I bury my face there, breathing in the scent of woodsmoke and sawdust and him, that wonderful grounding weight that makes everything else in the world feel far away.

His voice rumbles over my hair. “I’ve been carving this for days. Couldn’t even stop when I tried.” He draws something small from his pocket, presses it into my hand.

I pull back just enough to look. It’s a tiny pumpkin, perfectly imperfect, with delicate little vines curling around it. And right in the middle, nestled among the twists of wood, is a tiny carved heart.

“Oh,” I breathe, tears spilling freely now. “Thornak, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s me trying,” he says hoarsely. “Trying to say I want this to be real. All of it. I want you—your reckless hope, your silly pies, your heart that’s too damn big for this orchard. If you’ll still have me.”

I throw my arms around his neck so fast he makes a surprised grunt, nearly losing his balance. “Of course I’ll have you, you stubborn, wonderful brute. I’ve been yours since the first time you fixed my porch railing and pretended not to care when I kept sneaking peeks at your arms.”

That pulls out a low, startled laugh that vibrates all the way through me. His arms tighten, one huge hand cradling the back of my head like he’s afraid I might vanish.

“I’ll try not to run anymore,” he murmurs, tusks brushing my temple. “Not from this. Not from you. But you gotta promise to keep pulling me back if I do.”

“I will,” I say, voice muffled against his throat. “Even if I have to chase you all the way into the deep woods and drag you home by your beard.”

We stand there like fools under the rustling branches, sun slanting through in gold ribbons, leaves drifting down around us like blessings. I feel him exhale, long and rough, like he’s finally let go of something heavy. My heart feels steady.

Because this isn’t the neat, tidy love story I once imagined. It’s messy, tangled with old fears and new promises. But it’s ours.

And that’s worth every terrifying, wonderful step.