Page 103 of Smitten Pucking Orc

Can we talk?

That sounded desperate. Or distant. I couldn’t tell anymore. My hand was shaking.

Delete.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please⁠—

The cursor blinked at me. “I’m sorry” were words that meant everything and nothing. Words I’d already said. Words she’d already heard.

Delete.

Nothing could capture what I needed to say.

I settled on something simple. How are you?

I hit send before I could second-guess it.

The message delivered.

I stared at the screen, willing her to reply. Waiting for the three dots that would mean she was typing.

They didn’t come.

Five minutes felt like hours. My phone turned into a grenade in my hand, something that could explode at any second and destroy what was left.

“Are you alright, Kedish?” Veskar’s voice came from across the aisle.

I grunted.

“That’s a no.”

I didn’t answer. My brain was stuck on the text, cycling through hope and panic and terror.

She’d sent it yesterday morning. Don’t know how to be was past tense. Did that mean she was done trying?

But she’d texted. That had to mean something.

My seat dipped, and I looked up.

Crim loomed over me, his knee on the edge of my seat. “Move over.”

“The seat’s taken.”

“By your misery? Slide over.”

I did, and he dropped into the seat. We sat, staring forward, the rest of the team’s noise fading into the background.

“You were amazing last night,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to tell me why you looked like you were trying to die on the ice? Every save looked suicidal. You were playing like nothing mattered.”

I stared out the window.

“I assume because nothing does matter,” Crim said. “Right now. To you.”

I gnashed my tusks. “We won the game.”