Chapter 129
I closed my sketchbook slowly. The photo and note tucked inside no longer felt like a wound. They felt like a hinge, something letting an old door finally swing shut.
Torin pulled me fully into his arms and held me there. He was warm. Solid. Steady. “You ready to join the chaos?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I think I am ready for everything now.”
He smiled, kissed me once, and stood so he could pull me up with him.
As we walked toward the kitchen, I thought of my mother’s letter, the woman she used to be, the girl I used to be, the life I used to have. And then I thought of this one. This home. This love. This strange, beautiful family I had chosen and who had chosen me back.
The past finally felt like just that. Past. Tomorrow could be anything. And for once in my life, I wanted to meet it head on.
The next morning, the loft hummed in that soft, quiet way it only did when everyone else was still asleep. Or pretending to be. Rook snored loud enough to suggest he had no shame about it. Tannin muttered something into her pillow every few minutes, probably arguing with people in her dreams. Reif slept curled up like a cat in the armchair, limbs tucked awkwardly but somehow comfortable. Jess slept like a cop—on high alert even when unconscious.
The only lights on were from the kitchen, where Torin stood barefoot, making coffee with the same seriousness he used in every other part of his life. He heard me before he saw me. He always did.
“Morning,” he murmured, not turning around yet, but I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Morning,” I whispered back.
I came up behind him and slid my arms around his waist. He stilled just a second—like he always did when something caught him off guard in a good way—then he exhaled and let his hands rest over mine.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah. Better than yesterday.”
He nodded once. “You want to talk about the note again?”
“Not yet,” I admitted. “But I am thinking about it.”
He gave my hands a squeeze. “Thinking is allowed,” he said. “Overthinking is not. I monitor that.”
I laughed softly and rested my cheek against his back. The coffee maker hissed behind us, steam rising in gentle curls. The smell filled the room, warm and rich.
After a moment, I said quietly, “Torin… do you ever think about what life would’ve looked like if things had gone differently? If Skye hadn’t tried to control everything? If Lucien hadn’t been in the picture?”
Torin turned around then, leaning against the counter so we were face to face. His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw. “I used to,” he admitted. “But none of those versions of life feel real anymore. This one does.”
I looked up at him. “Even with all the chaos?”
He smiled a little. “Especially with all the chaos. I’m built for it. But… I never had the calm to come home to before you.”
Warmth curled through my chest. “I feel that too,” I said quietly. “All my life felt like surviving. But now it feels like living. And that’s new. Good. Strange.”
He studied me for a long moment before he leaned in and kissed me—slow, grounding, the kind of kiss that didn’t try to fix anything but reminded me I wasn’t alone in fixing it.
When he pulled away, he said, “I want you to have answers. Real ones. But I also want you to know that none of those answers change anything between us.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Jess walked in then, hair a mess, expression flat. “Morning,” he said, like it was a threat.
Torin smirked. “Coffee’s ready.”
Jess grunted his approval and poured himself a cup like his life depended on it.
Rook stumbled out next, scowling like daylight offended him. “I smell caffeine,” he said.
Tannin appeared behind him and shoved him lightly toward the counter. “Move. I need it more than you.”
Reif trailed behind them looking far too awake for someone his age. “It is kind of peaceful in here,” he said, surprised.
“It won’t last,” Jess muttered.
He was right, because two seconds later, Rook and Tannin started bickering about who got the mug with the chipped rim, and Reif tried to steal toast, and Jess yelled at all of them to sit down, and Torin pressed a kiss to the side of my head before sliding a mug into my hands.
I sat at the table with everyone, and for a while we just ate and argued about trivial things. Tannin said Rook couldn’t run a bar if he couldn’t even run a toaster. Rook said Tannin would burn the place down without supervision. Reif chimed in with “I volunteer as tribute to stop them from fighting,” and Jess said, “Kid, that’s a terrible idea.”
I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.
After breakfast, while everyone drifted into their usual roles, Torin helping Jess with something mechanical, Rook checking inventory lists for the bar sale paperwork, Tannin bossing Reif around just because she could, I slipped back to the couch with my sketchbook.
The note was still tucked inside. The picture too. Promising answers. Demanding questions.
I looked toward the hallway where Burdock and Ginger were staying. Ginger would know more. Maybe everything. Burdock too, in his blunt, steady way.
My chest tightened with anticipation and fear braided together. Everything was shifting now. Everything was coming to light. I wasn’t running anymore. I wasn’t hiding. Not from my past. Not from myself.
I closed the sketchbook and stood.
Time to find Ginger. And time to learn the truth...all of it.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
