Chapter 157: She Wasn’t Going Anywhere

Thorne asked where before he asked anything else. His voice was so flat that Dove might have missed what it cost him if his hand had not closed around hers.

The older man named the relief warehouse, then repeated when he had been there. Less than two weeks ago. He had worked beside Thorne’s father unloading supplies, had shared a meal with him, and had heard him asking after his son.

"You’re sure?" Thorne said.

The man nodded, then described how his father had corrected the way they stacked the crates, insisting the heavier ones go underneath before anyone broke their toes. He repeated the words, and something in Thorne’s face gave way.

It was an ordinary detail. That made it worse somehow, a father being irritating and alive in a world where people could vanish between one street and the next.

Dove asked Edrik to put her down. He did so immediately, one hand steadying her until her feet reached the dry concrete. Then he stepped aside without leaving, his expression soft in a way he rarely offered anyone but them.

Thorne looked at the older man as though another question might undo the answer. "He was asking?"

"Yes. We didn’t know where you’d gone. If we’d known about the Warren, we’d have sent word."

Dove watched her husband’s breath catch. He swallowed hard, tried again, and shook his head once as if his own body had stopped following instructions. His fingers trembled against hers.

She had seen him face men who wanted to hurt them. She had seen him exhausted, angry, and pleased with himself over the smallest thing she had given him. She had not seen him look so unsure what to do with hope.

"Thorne," she said, moving directly in front of him. "Look at me for a second."

He tried to smile. It failed, and a tear slipped down beside one of the scars on his cheek. The younger friend looked away sharply. The older one started speaking too fast.

"It’s been a shock. He’s not usually like this. He just needs a minute."

Dove looked at him. "He can have more than a minute."

The man hesitated, his gaze flicking toward her hands on Thorne’s arms. "I didn’t want you thinking less of him. Some women wouldn’t want to see their mate lose control."

She felt a sudden, fierce anger on Thorne’s behalf. Not because the friend had meant harm, but because he had thought this needed covering up, as though a man finding out his father was alive had done something embarrassing in front of his wife.

"Then it’s good he’s married to me," she said, before turning back to Thorne.

He stared at her, and she could not tell which part he had heard. She kept her hands where he could feel them.

"We can go see him if you want. We’ll find out where he is, and we’ll work out the road. You don’t have to decide everything right now."

His mouth moved without an answer. She touched his cheek, carefully, and wiped away the tear with her thumb.

"You’re allowed to cry. I’m not going anywhere because you love your dad."

That was what broke the last of his effort to hold himself still. He folded toward her, and she put her arms around him as far as they would reach. For a moment they stayed like that, his forehead against her shoulder, her boots planted on the concrete while his breathing shook.

When he straightened, his feet were steady. He asked against her hair whether he could hold her, and she nodded. He lifted her close, one arm supporting her while the other held her back, then buried his face against her chest.

Dove rested her cheek on his silver hair. There was no clever thing to say, and for once she did not want one. She stroked the back of his head and let him cry until the breaths between became easier.

The friends stood quietly nearby. The younger man looked at her with open surprise, then lowered his eyes when Edrik offered them space by the bench. Nobody announced points. Nobody arrived asking for stock. The yard could wait.

Eventually Thorne loosened his hold enough to look at her. His eyes were wet, and she kissed the place beside one before asking whether he wanted to go inside.

He nodded. Edrik opened the rear door and moved the lunch plates from the little table. The ordinary kindness nearly made Dove cry too, but this moment belonged to Thorne, and she wanted him to have it without needing to comfort her.

In their room, she gave him water and sat close. His friends remained just inside the doorway long enough to answer the questions he could manage. They had seen his father alive then. They did not know whether the warehouse still housed the same people or whether the roads remained open.

Dove wrote the location and date down exactly as given. A real lead was worth more than a comforting promise that might fall apart when they reached the first flooded road.

Thorne listened, breathing more evenly now. "Send a question first," he said at last. "Through the carrier. I want to know he’s still there before we make you close up and move again."

"We’ll work out the shop," she replied. "You don’t have to talk yourself out of seeing your dad because I like the bed."

He looked at her for a long time, then nodded once. She could see how difficult that small agreement was. She kept her hand over his while he looked at the address. He had carried her through enough terrible days; she could sit through this one without asking him to be all right.

The friends gave their nearby lodging address before leaving. Edrik thanked them at the door and returned to sit on Thorne’s other side, close without demanding anything.

Dove took out paper for the inquiry. Thorne accepted the pen, tried to form the first word, and stopped when his hand shook again.

"Will you start it?" he asked quietly. "Just the first line."

She moved closer until their shoulders touched and waited for his words. He took a breath, looked at the blank page, and began speaking to the father he had stopped expecting to find.