Page 77 of Till Orc Do Us Part

Man. Brother.

And somehow, ready.

CHAPTER 23

ROWAN

The rain starts midmorning—slow and steady, the kind of gray drizzle that turns the boardwalk slick and makes the sea smell sharper somehow. I hear the wind hissing through the gaps in the windows upstairs, rattling the old glass with every stronger gust.

The shop feels too big today. Too empty.

I sit behind the counter with my third mug of lukewarm coffee, a stack of returns on the desk in front of me—books I should be sorting, invoices I should be logging. Instead, I’m staring at the same line in a shipping manifest for the fourth time, mind circling like a riptide.

I haven’t heard from him.

And I told myself that’s what I wanted.

"Space."

"I need space."

The words tasted like iron when I threw them at him. Still do.

But the hollow in my chest says something else entirely.

The doorbell jangles loud and sharp through the stillness, startling me out of the loop.

I look up—heart leaping and sinking all in the same breath.

It’s not Drokhaz.

It’s Liara.

Of course.

She storms in without ceremony, curls wild beneath a green knit cap, a battered paper bag in one hand, and a dented thermos in the other. Her coat drips little puddles on the welcome mat. The cold rolls in with her, sharp and damp.

“You better not have locked that door just to brood,” she says flatly.

I groan. “Not now.”

“I brought tea.” She kicks the door shut behind her with one boot. “And truths.”

“I didn’t ask for either.”

She peels off her coat, tosses it over the nearest chair. “Didn’t ask. Don’t care.”

I exhale, rubbing my eyes. “Liara?—”

“Sit,” she orders, already moving toward the counter like she owns the place.

I frown.

She levels a look at me. “Isaidsit.”

The sharpness in her voice brooks no argument, and part of me is too tired to fight.

I drop into the armchair near the front window, the one I usually reserve for reading or late-night wine. The gray light outside softens the stacks of books lining the window displays—weathered covers, faded spines gleaming like old friends.