Page 53 of My Orc Package Deal

“Look,” I said softly.

At the edge of the tree line, where the grass went long before the wood started, the first firefly came on—a single cold pulse of light, gone before you were sure you’d seen it, and then another.

“Milo loves lightning bugs,” she whispered, sounding less watery, more wrung-out.

“Fireflies,” I corrected teasingly, and was rewarded with a little huff of not-quite-laughter.

I let the quiet do its work for another minute before I spoke again.

“You’ve been keeping score since you arrived, Kesha. This marriage wasn’t about that, not to me…but you’ve been doing it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said yet again, sounding miserable.

I pressed another kiss to her hair as we both watched the insects flicker around our backyard. “There’s no reason to apologize, dkaar. But why don’t you tell me what you think the score is.”

She made that sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You really want me to?”

“I really want you to.”

Kesha pulled in a long breath and let it out. Then, without looking away from the fireflies, she began to speak.

“You’ve given me a home. A safe one, the kind Milo needed, and I couldn’t give him on my own. You gave Jay to Milo and Milo to Jay. Last night you—” She stopped. Pressed her lips together, then tried again. “Last night was entirely about me. Every time I tried to make it about you, you—you rejected me.” Kesha took another long, shuddering breath, as if preparing herself for the worst. “And then today you came home and took on a debt I’d hidden from you without even blinking.” Another hopeless laugh. “I’ve been keeping a tally for weeks, Korrad. It’s not close.”

I looked at her profile in the low light. “First of all,” I said, “last night—making you feel good makes me feel good. That wasn’t generosity. That was what I wanted.”

She opened her mouth.

“And I want you to touch me,” I hurried to assure her. “Whatever you had in mind. I’m not refusing that.”

She shifted on my lap. “I want to,” she said, smaller. “Just—not now. Right now I’m disgusting. But in bed. I want it to go both ways.”

“Then it will.”

I said it simply, and she looked at the fireflies and said nothing.

“Now,” I said. “Milo.”

“What about Milo?”

“He’s mine.” I turned her gently so I could say this to her face, ensuring she understood. “Same as Jay is yours—you do understand that? I loved that boy before he ever set foot on this island. A year of gaming with him, of hearing Jay talk about him, of watching those two find each other through a headset and thinking: that should be real.” I held her gaze. “Milo is my son. Mine to care for, mine to love, same as you are mine. That’s not a debt. That’s not something I need paid back. It just is.”

Her eyes had filled again.

“How,” she said, her voice cracking on it, “how could you possibly love me? I walked into your life and I’ve just taken. The house, the boys, last night, and now⁠—”

“Dkaar.” I offered her a gentle smile. “You’re still keeping score.”

She pressed her lips together.

“Love doesn’t work that way,” I said. “But since you’ve been keeping a tally—tell me what you think you’ve brought.”

“Nothing.” She said it like she believed it completely. “Nothing that wouldn’t have sorted itself out without me.”

I shook my head. “The night you moved in, Jay helped Milo unpack. He has never offered to help anyone unpack anything in his life. I watched him show Milo where to put his things, and I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t want to stop it.” I paused. “I had a house for eight months. It was functional. Jay and I knew where everything was, and nobody used the second coffee mug. A few months with you here, and he leaves his shoes by the back door because there’s always someone in the kitchen. He started that the second week.”

Her dark eyes flicked over my face, as if looking for the truth.

“I didn’t have Milo before,” I said. “I do now. That’s a joy that you’ve brought me; a son to play music with, a son to talk about books with, a son to watch grow.” I stopped and took a deep breath. “And then there’s Jay.”