Chapter 230: Husband on Loan? Absolutely Not

DOVE’S POV

Dove had spent enough years smiling at people she wanted to argue with. She recognized the feeling the moment Thorne’s old employee said once you’re back with us again.

This time, she did not have to keep the smile.

The workshop occupied a long brick building two streets from their shop. Its roller door stood open onto a floor crowded with repaired tools, benches, and a half-finished cart. A staircase along the right wall led to an office overlooking the work area. Fans moved the hot air without doing much to cool it.

Thorne stopped just inside the door. Men looked up from their work, recognized him, and began calling his name.

Dove watched his expression change. His shoulders loosened. He answered a joke she did not understand, then laughed at the response. For a moment, she saw a part of him that had existed before the Warren, before her, before everyone had started measuring a day by what disaster it contained.

She liked him like this.

She did not like the way the younger employee pointed upstairs as though she and Edrik were belongings somebody else could watch while the important men talked.

"We’ve got drinks in the office," he said. "Your wife can wait down here if she’d rather stay cool."

Dove glanced at the fan blowing hot dust across the entrance. "I think I’ll risk the stairs."

Thorne held out his hand without looking surprised. She took it. Edrik followed, close enough that his fingers brushed hers when the stairwell narrowed.

"Your face," he murmured.

"What about it?"

"I like it when you’re deciding how polite to be."

"Then you’re having an excellent week."

His quiet laugh followed her upstairs.

The office had two open windows, a battered desk, and mismatched chairs. Somebody had put a pitcher of drinking water in the shade with a cloth over the top. Dove appreciated that far more than the framed slogan still hanging crookedly above the desk.

The older employee handed Thorne a sheet with the relief warehouse’s address and the name of the worker who had answered. Thorne read it carefully, then folded it into his pocket.

"Tomorrow morning?"

"They’ll expect you."

Dove saw him take a fuller breath. She touched his knee beneath the desk and left her hand there.

Then the employee began talking about the workshop. People needed steady work. They had equipment worth saving, several men who knew what they were doing, and too many arguments over who decided what happened next. He wanted the man he remembered making those decisions.

For a while, Dove listened. Wanting help was not a crime. Missing someone you trusted was not a trick by itself.

The problem came when he began explaining where Thorne could sleep.

"There’s a room at the back. Once your father is settled, you could stay here during the week. It would save the walk."

Thorne looked up. "I live with my wife."

"Of course. She could visit whenever she wanted."

Dove turned very slowly toward him.

Edrik made a low sound beside her that might have been amusement. It might also have been an early warning.

Thorne’s hand covered hers under the desk. "No."

The employee blinked, clearly expecting a longer answer.

"I’m happy to see you," Thorne continued. "I’m glad this place is running. But I’m not moving into your spare room and fitting my family around it."

"We thought you’d want something of your own again."

That landed badly enough that Dove nearly spoke. Thorne got there first.

"I have something of my own. I chose it."

The room went quiet. He did not raise his voice or turn toward Dove for approval. She felt the force of that more than she would have felt a speech about loving her in front of strangers.

He wanted this life. He was saying so himself.

The older employee rubbed a hand over his face. "I didn’t mean she was keeping you from us."

"Then don’t ask me to leave her behind."

Dove let the silence stand. This was his friend, his old life, and his answer. She did not need to jump into the middle to prove she belonged there.

Below the office window, a tool clattered onto the workshop floor. Dove let herself listen to it instead of rushing to fill the uncomfortable silence for the men who had made it.

After a moment, the employee looked at her directly. "I’m sorry."

"Thank you," she said. "And if you want help, ask him what he actually has time for. He’s much nicer when nobody volunteers his bedroom."

Thorne laughed first. The older man managed a tired smile, and the conversation found a less annoying place to continue.

They arranged a short return visit after the father meeting, if Thorne wanted it and the roads inside the base stayed clear. He offered no promise to run everything. The employees showed him their work downstairs, and Dove asked the questions that interested her: which repairs could wait, which pieces were useful on the road, and whether anyone had spare window screen.

They did. She traded for a sound roll rather than taking a gift with unspoken strings. Edrik carried it under one arm while Thorne stopped to greet the last man at the door.

On the stairs, Edrik had offered his hand. Outside, Dove gave it back willingly, then caught Thorne’s sleeve with her other hand when he joined them.

"You were very handsome in there," she told him.

"In the heat?"

"Don’t argue with a compliment. You’ll ruin my generous mood."

He leaned down and kissed her. She let it last long enough that Edrik cleared his throat with absolutely no sincerity.

Dove laughed against Thorne’s mouth.

Thorne stopped beside the pickup before opening the door. He took out the address again, smoothing the folded corner with his thumb.

"I know how to get there," he said quietly. "I don’t know what I’m going to say."

Dove put her hand over his. He had faced a room full of men without wavering. Now a few lines of directions had him standing very still in the heat.

"You don’t have to get it right before you see him," she said.

He looked at her, then toward the road through the internal checkpoint.

He traced the folded edge with his thumb. "What if he thinks I stopped looking?"

Dove’s answer caught behind her teeth. She had been ready for a happy reunion. She had not understood what he was afraid his father might ask first.