Wenorin Dragonborn

“Do I look good?”

You came down the bottom of the stairs wearing a little black floral sundress, flattering but not short enough to be ‘inappropriate’. This was Sunday dinner, after all.

Gator looked up from his phone, vape in his mouth. His eyes went wide as he breathed out the strawberry scented vapor. “‘Do I look good?’” He mocked, scoffing as he looped an arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. “Babe. You look hot as fuck.” He leaned down and kissed your neck. “An’ I think you know it, too.”

“We don’t have time to do anything,” you reminded him regretfully, knowing where he was headed, his lips already brushing across your jaw. You gently pushed his chest, ignoring the heat already building within you. “Your dad’s expecting us at 5…”

He groaned, knowing you were right. He let go of you and peered into the hall mirror. He smoothed a hand over his gelled hair, making sure it was all in place. He was dressed in khaki pants with a black button up and his usual boots. He looked fine as hell, you thought.

This would be your first time meeting his father, and you were both nervous. Terrified, even. He had told you only a few stories about his father, and he didn’t sound like the nicest, most open minded guy.

“Guess we should get goin’ then,” Gator said. He took your hand in his larger one, a smile spreading across his lips. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Not really,” you admitted. You were about to meet Roy Tillman—could you ever truly be ready? “He’s gonna hate me, isn’t he?”

“He’s not gonna hate you,” Gator said, but the look on his face didn’t make you feel the most confident. “…Whether or not he’ll be a total asshole is somethin’ else.”

Gator led you out of the house with his hand on your lower back, guiding you to his truck. He opened the passenger side door for you, gripping onto your waist and helping you climb up. His hand brushed over your ass as he did—as if he thought you wouldn’t notice. You shot him a playful glare as you sat in the leather seat, but he just grinned before shutting the door.

You watched the scenery pass you by as Gator drove to Tillman Ranch. The atmosphere in the vehicle was heavy, weighing on you both the closer you got to Gator’s family home.

You’d heard a lot about Roy, even before you started seeing Gator. Everyone knew Roy Tillman. He was the Sheriff, either loved or hated by everyone in Stark County (and even beyond). Feared, even. Some would say he’s what this country needs, while others would say he’s a power hungry cheat using the state’s money for his own gain. You weren’t 100% sure where you landed on the scale of opinion on the man himself just yet. Gator had never been too forthcoming with information about him.

When Gator turned onto the long dirt road leading to the ranch, your stomach tied in knots. Were the armed guards by the entrance necessary? You turned to your boyfriend to ask, but he looked as casual as ever. You guessed that was normal.

You kept your gaze out the window, taking in the property. The horses and cows, all the ranch hands tending to things. The ranch was bigger than you expected.

“That was my job as a kid,” Gator said, nodding towards a young man caring for the horses. He dragged on his vape, blowing out a cloud of vapor. “Liked it well enough. Better’n the cattle.”

“I didn’t know you worked on the ranch,” you said, smiling over at him.

Gator raised his eyebrows at you. “Are you kiddin’? We all work here. Dad hates laziness. Says we gotta earn our keep, even as kids.” He smirked. “A perk of movin’ outta here an’ in with you.”

“That’s the motivation, huh?” you giggled. Even as you joked with him, that anxiety settled back in. What if his father really did hate you? What if he disapproved of you so strongly, he pushed Gator to end things?

Gator glanced over at you. “I see you thinkin’ too hard again,” he said, breathing out another sickeningly sweet exhale. “Don’t stress, darlin’. Even if he acts like an ass, don’t pay him no mind. Not much impresses him.” He turned to look at you seriously as he spoke again. “And you’re everythin’ to me. That ain’t changin’.”

His words softened you immediately, and they eased your anxieties at least a little. He placed his hand palm-up on the center console, and you took it, interlacing your fingers together. “I’ve already been spending all my time with one Tillman for five months, I should probably be used to the asshole-ry,” you teased.

He shot you a look. “Now you know damn well I spoil the hell outta ya.”

You giggled, because it was true. Gator had a reputation around town, and it wasn’t a good one. But you’d never seen that side of him, not since the first day he’d met you at that bar your friends had dragged you to. He’d come up to you with that cocky attitude he was known for, but the second you met eyes properly, he was a goner. You weren’t a quick, meaningless hookup. He looked at you and he saw forever.

Not that he’d want anyone else to know how completely wrapped around your finger he was. The way he spent almost every night at your house already, coming over right after his shift and wanting nothing more than to get in bed with you—and not just for sex. The way he’d bring you dinner, rub your feet without being asked even if his own were killing him, wash your hair for you in the shower together. And he definitely didn’t want anyone to know how his favorite thing in the world was to cuddle with you, especially to lay his head in your lap while you played with his hair. He’d never known peace like he did in those quiet moments with you.

The ranch house appeared, pulling you from your comforting thoughts and bringing you back to the present. The house was lovely. Dark painted siding, two stories with a wraparound porch. Gator pulled up near the front and killed the engine.

The soft ticking of the cooling engine was the only sound in the otherwise silent truck cab. Neither of you made a move for a solid minute. Gator hit his vape again—it was habitual, the device practically glued to his hand every time he was stressed. If you were at home you’d gently take it from his hand and tell him to go get undressed and meet you in your bedroom, but that wasn’t an option now.

“We don’t have’ta do this if you don’t want,” he said finally, an elbow resting at the bottom of the window. He looked ahead as he spoke, at the house, like he was keeping an eye on it. “We can leave, turn around, go back t’yours and order in some of those noodles you like—“

“Gator,” you said softly, cutting him off. He finally drew his attention from the house to meet your eyes instead. “We kinda do have to do this. We’ve already been putting this off for months. You’re planning to move in. You can’t hide me from your dad forever.”

He sighed, the weight of it all seeming to visibly settle on his shoulders. “I know. You’re right.”

“As usual.”

“As usual.” He grinned. “I just…” he paused, looking away from you and back out the windshield. “I don’t want him to scare ya off. He’s ruined a lotta good things for me. Things that don’t…fit in his plan.”

You put a hand on his arm. “He’s not gonna scare me off, Gator. I don’t care how bad it is. You’re not your dad.”

The last of your words seemed to hit him like a physical blow. He let out a sharp exhale, looking at you with a soft smile and a deep fondness in his hazel eyes. “Goddamn. I love you, ya know that? More’n anything. Scares the hell outta me how much.”

Your eyes stung with emotion you tried to hold back, at least for now. “I love you, too. More than I can say.”

Gator turned away and sniffed once, wiping at his own eyes, trying to look more like he was just scratching an itch. “Alright. Enough’a that. Let’s get goin’ before he comes out here lookin’ for us.”

He walked around the truck to open your door for you. You took the hand he offered, his other coming to rest on your back and help you down. It remained there even as he closed the door and led you up the porch stairs. He paused at the front door, like he was steeling himself, before finally opening it.

The smell of dinner greeted you the second you walked into the entryway. It smelled amazing, like a perfectly cooked roast. You could hear voices from the left, Gator rubbing your back softly before leading you to that doorway.

The voices stopped right before you entered, no doubt hearing the heavy thuds of Gator’s boots and the softer clicks of your heels against the floor. The quaint kitchen was on the right, cabinets painted white with a stove against the wall and a fridge decorated with some photos and children’s artwork held by magnets. To the left sat a dining table with seating for six, already set, the main course you’d recognized sitting in the middle surrounded by mashed potatoes, green beans, and freshly baked rolls. The wallpaper was patterned with images of chickens.

Two identical young girls sat at the table already, eyeing you the moment you walked in. You gave them a soft smile before looking at the other two figures, who also weren’t shy about the way they were sizing you up.

The woman stood back near the stove, her thin frame standing taller in an attempt to display more confidence than she seemed to actually feel. She wore a nice deep purple blouse with dark blue jeans, her short brown hair neat above her shoulders. You knew her to be Gator’s step mother, Karen, but she looked younger than you’d expected.

It was the man standing slightly in front that drew your attention immediately. He was close to Gator’s height, but broader. His grey hair was perfectly styled, thick and full, clear where Gator had inherited the good genes. He wore a deep red button up tucked into his jeans and nice dark brown leather cowboy boots. The man was handsome, but held an air of authority that made you feel intimidated under the heavy gaze of his green eyes.

Roy Tillman, of course.

“So, this is her,” Roy said to Gator, as if you weren’t even standing there even as he looked right at you.

Gator’s hand slid from your lower back to wrap completely around your waist, pulling you closer into his side. “Yeah,” he said. “Uh, Dad, Karen, this is my girlfriend.” He introduced you by name, his hand lightly squeezing your hip.

You smiled warmly. “Hi. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“The schoolteacher,” Roy stated, and you wondered briefly if Gator had given that information or if Roy had looked into you. Maybe both. His eyes dragged up and down your body, not quite leering but definitely uncomfortable. “That’s an…interesting choice of attire, sweetheart. I hope you don’t wear short little skirts like that at school. That’s a lotta leg.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly, and you could feel Gator’s whole body tense beside you. The skirt of your sundress was above your knees, but you’d looked in the mirror a million times as you got ready, making sure it didn’t cross any lines. “Um…no. I don’t.”

“Dad,” Gator muttered.

“Why don’t we sit down before dinner gets cold?” Karen said quickly, and you were grateful for the diversion. She grabbed some napkins and moved to the table. “Go wash up, girls, quickly.”

The two little girls—Gator’s half sisters, Jessica and Maude—ran off. Gator pulled out your chair, and you smiled up at him as you took the seat. He looked back with equal adoration before taking the seat next to you. The kids were back by the time everyone was seated.

Roy sat at the head of the table. He took Karen’s hand in his right and held out the left on the table for Gator. Gator placed his hand in his father’s, his left holding yours. It took you a second to understand what was happening, but once you realized, you took the waiting hand of the little girl next to you. Everyone bowed their heads, and you followed suit.

“Heavenly father,” Roy began. “We thank you for providing this delicious bounty of food that Karen has prepared for us. We thank you for the blessings you’ve bestowed upon us, and the gift of enjoying a meal together as a family with our…guest. May our family continue to prosper and serve you. Amen.”

A quiet chorus of amens sounded from around the table, and everyone began moving to serve themselves from the dishes in the center. Before you could reach for the serving fork, Gator moved first, lifting your plate.

“I got ya,” he said softly, stabbing a slice of roast and transferring it to your plate. He piled on a healthy serving of green beans and potatoes, too. You felt a little shy about it, but let him. Gator liked to show you how much he loved you in any way possible.

You could feel both Roy and Karen staring, watching the interaction. “A man serving his woman?” Roy said. “Bit backwards, don’t you think? City girls don’t take care of their men?” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “Ephesians 5:22-23 says, ‘Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church; and he is the savior of the body.’”

Your whole body heated with embarrassment. The silence that settled over the whole room made the moment even more awkward and uncomfortable, the only sound for several long seconds the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.

“We’re not married,” Gator mumbled, starting to fill his own plate. He stabbed the roast with a little more force than necessary. “Don’t usually do that anyway. Was just tryin’ to be nice.”

“But you intend to be married some day soon, right?” Roy asked as everyone finally began serving themselves, too. “If you’re bringin’ her into my home?”

Gator’s jaw clenched. “That ain’t what it’s about.”

“Then what’s it about?” Roy pressed.

He paused. “It’s about…introducin’ you to someone important to me,” he said quietly, his words more vulnerable than he usually allowed. A warmth spread through your chest, a deep affection more powerful than any uncomfortable family dinner.

Everyone moved on, eating with some quiet, casual conversation. Roy quieted, simply listening as Karen made small talk. She asked about your experiences teaching kindergarten, how you liked the school, if you knew Mrs. Reed, who taught the girls. How you’d liked living in Lehigh for the past year, what you did for fun.

It was too good to last, of course it was. Roy had spent the entire conversation watching as he ate. He was calculating, looking at you like you were something to be studied, a test you knew you were taking despite not knowing the answers.

“So, Gator, any reason you’ve been hidin’ her from us?” Roy finally asked. The comfortable environment that had developed vanished instantly, that same hostile, overwhelming heaviness returning with a cold chill.

Gator tensed again, staring down at his plate. “I ain’t hidin’ her—“

“Just because I told you it was time we met her,” Roy said. “I’m not stupid, boy. I know you’ve been seein’ her for a while. Half a year, almost, ain’t that right? This town talks.”

Gator’s knuckles went white around his fork. “Just wanted to get to know ‘er. Make sure it was serious before…”

“And is it?” Roy questioned directly, looking right at Gator. “Serious?”

To your surprise, Gator lifted his head, meeting his father’s eyes head-on. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

Your breath hitched. The Tillman men held each other’s stares, some kind of unspoken battle between them. You, Karen, and even the girls watched, the tension thick and suffocating in the small dining room.

Roy looked away first, but only to look at you instead. “You intend to marry my son?”

“Dad!” Gator exclaimed, frustrated, dropping his fork to his plate with a clatter. “Jesus, what’s with the interrogation?”

“Just wanted to know her intentions,” Roy answered, eating another bite from his plate casually. He was the only person at the table who seemed fully at ease. “The Tillmans are a respectable family. Always have been. Can’t have just anyone comin’ in.”

You swallowed. “Gator…means a lot to me,” you said softly. “I’ve loved getting to know him. I love him. Wherever things go…I’m serious about him, too.” The truth was, if Gator asked you to marry him tomorrow, you would say yes. You knew that deep inside, even though you didn’t say it aloud.

Gator looked at you with an expression so tender and loving it nearly took your breath away. The smile that crossed his lips was gentle, one of those rare looks reserved only for you.

Roy only grunted in response.

Dinner moved on once again. Plates were cleared, bellies full. The dinner had been delicious—Karen was an excellent cook. You told her so, thanking her for the meal. When Karen stood, starting to gather the dishes, you stood as well.

“Let me help you,” you said quietly. She sent you a grateful smile from across the table.

“Now that’s more like it,” Roy said, leaning back in his chair with a cocky grin, one that reminded you of the Gator you’d seen across the bar before you’d properly met. “Maybe she won’t be hopeless as a wife after all.”

You froze. The comment had been a low blow. You knew exactly how much you took care of Gator—cooking for him (because lord knows he couldn’t cook), washing any clothes he left at your place, massaging the tense muscles in his back, happily helping him work out all those frustrations when he had a particularly stressful day. But Gator took care of you, too. It was give and take, effort given on both sides, and you both liked it that way. You showed your love for each other in your own ways.

“She takes good care of me,” Gator defended.

“She takes care of you, huh?” Roy chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. You always did like a pretty little thing.” His eyes dragged over your body again, and this time, it did feel predatory. It made your skin crawl. “And she is real pretty. No wonder you’ve gone so soft.”

Karen bowed her head, hurrying to the sink with the dishes she’d gathered. You stood there for just a moment longer, stunned. Gator was coiled tight, looking like he was seconds from exploding. A man who’d never talked back to his father, who tried his whole life to make him proud, looked nearly ready to throw a punch.

You finally made your feet move, walking into the kitchen. Your hands trembled as you placed the dirty dishes into the hot soapy water Karen was running. You didn’t know what Roy was like behind closed doors, but if this was him in front of company, you fully understood the fear you could feel radiating off of Karen.

“Gator,” Roy said, standing up from the table. “Let’s go have a talk in my office while the women tidy up.”

Gator didn’t respond, but you heard the creaking of his chair as he stood, too. You glanced over just in time to see the apologetic look he sent your way as he followed his father out of the kitchen.

Karen didn’t speak as she washed the dishes. You stood wordlessly next to her, drying them as she handed them off to you. Jessica and Maude, who seemed alarmingly used to all this, scurried off to their bedroom upstairs.

The kitchen was spotless by the time you saw the miraculous sight of Gator returning, Roy nowhere to be seen. He was frowning, his hands in his pockets. “You ready to get outta here, darlin’?” he asked, gentle, as if he were worried he’d scare you like a frightened animal.

“Yeah,” you said immediately, trying not to sound as relieved as you were. “Yes, I…need to get ready for work in the morning.”

His eyes softened with that same apology. You said goodbye to Karen, who thanked you for coming with a timid politeness, the confidence she’d attempted to show when you arrived now long gone.

It didn’t feel like you could breathe properly until you were out of the house entirely, taking in the clean North Dakota air. It was a little chilly now that the sun had gone down. Gator wrapped an arm around you as he walked you to the truck, opening the door and helping you in like he always did.

He didn’t pause this time, starting the engine as soon as he climbed in and driving the truck down that long driveway. You eyed the armed guards again as you passed them, the tension finally leaving your body as Gator pulled onto the road. He was puffing on his vape immediately, those nervous, constant hits.

“Jesus,” you breathed finally, the words leaving your lips in a rush of air. “That was—“

“I’m sorry,” Gator interrupted. “Fuck, ‘m so sorry. I knew he’d be bad, but—shit. I ain’t brought a girl home in…well, since prom. So, y’know, he knew you had’ta mean a lot t’me, and I told ya he likes to ruin shit for me, I couldn’t even blame ya if you never wanted to talk t’me again—“

“Gator,” you said, cutting off his nervous rambling much like you had before the dinner. “Baby. That was not your fault.”

“But I brought you there,” he said. You could hear the self loathing in his voice, and it broke your heart. “I know how he can be, and I…I brought you there.”

You placed your hand palm-up on the center console, the same way he’d done earlier. He glanced down at it, and didn’t hesitate to put the vape down and place his hand in yours, driving with his left.

“It had to be done,” you reminded him, interlocking your fingers. “If we’re gonna be serious about each other…it had to be done.”

He sighed. “I know. Fuck. But…I dunno. I feel like I could’ve…should’ve done somethin’.”

“You stood up for me,” you reminded him softly.

The words struck him. You didn’t know enough about Gator’s relationship with his father to know how monumental, how unheard of, that was—but Gator knew. He hadn’t even realized what he’d done until you said the words. Well, maybe he’d realized a little when his dad was chewing him out in his office for the disrespect, but hearing it said that way…it made him feel good. He was surprised at the pride that swelled in his chest, right along with the overwhelming amount of love he felt for the woman next to him. Nothing like anything he’d ever felt in his life.

Your cozy little house with the yellow light glowing on the porch was a welcome sight. Gator followed you up the porch steps, staying close behind as you unlocked the door.

Inside, after you hung the keys on the hook and locked the front door behind you, he pulled you into his arms. He held you close to his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of you, the smell of your shampoo that had become so familiar.

“I love you,” he muttered softly against your hair.

Your heart beat fast, thundering through your own chest and against his own. “I love you too, Gator.”

He just held you there, your bodies molded together. He rubbed your back softly, your breathing evening out, the sound of his heartbeat against your ear relaxing you.

“I’m ready to move out now.”

You paused. You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “What?”

“I’m ready to move outta there,” he said. One hand remained on your waist while the other came up to rest against the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “I’m ready to get out of there for good…an’ move in here. With you.”

“Gator…” you whispered, eyes scanning his face for any sign of doubt. You found none. “Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure’ve anythin’ in my life,” he said. “Like I told you…you’re everythin’ to me. I want to start our lives together. Here. Away from…all that.”

You blinked, that stinging behind your eyes returning. “I want that too. So badly.”

He smiled, soft but genuine with pure, raw joy. “Then it’s settled. I’ll pack my shit tomorrow, I mean it. This is my home now.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. “You’re my home now.”

And of every pretty thing Gator Tillman had said to you so far, that was probably the most beautiful.

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