6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Abby
They sold plaster at the bulk buying warehouse Levi sent me to for office supplies. I decided to stock up.
This was the first time I repaired a hole in one of thewalls, but it wasn’t the first hole I found. There was one in the bathroom, two in the hallway, and one over the door on Kai’s office.
I wasn’t sure why Kai even had an office. Other than lounge around eating pork rinds and looking at magazines with glossy pictures of motorcycles, he didn’t do much while he was here.
Levi claimed it was a territory thing. If dominant shifters were going to have a sharedwork space, they needed individual territory to prevent fighting.
From my perspective, there was still a wildly inappropriate level of fighting, be it playful or not, and Levi would save a chunk on his monthly expenses if he made Kai take his twice daily cat naps in the break room.
Ezra coulddohis bonsai trees in there too.
Mason was out ontwenty-four hourjobs too often to need one either.
As for Gage, it was probablybesthe had his own space. Apparently he was easily distracted—I’d been accused of distracting him on more than one occasion, even after he called me into his office to begin with—and needed enormous amounts of alone time or else he stomped around.
Stomped around more than usual, anyway.
Speaking of stomping, I should hurry to finish my work before he came back from whatever he was doing. There would be no hiding the scent of spackle and fresh paint but at least he wouldn’t catch me in the act.
Seeing Gage yesterday, his fist embedded in the wall, I gained a new perspective on him.
Was he rude and unapproachable? Yes.
Was he also deeplycommittedhis work for his pack? Yes.
Gage made AmeliaPatellequake in herseat,but it wasn’t because of anything he did. It was only what he represented to her. He didn’t tread carefully around the sensitive feelings of a woman like Amelia and that was probably because he didn’t know how.
What he did do was pour himself fully and completely into finding Amelia’s sister. His genuine distress over Mackenna showed me a more sensitive side of him that I wouldn’t have believed in a month ago.
Gage cared. Not about me, or maybe any human, but he cared about someone. He cared about these shifter women and any shifter fleeing their pack situation.
It was noble, even if his language and behavior while doing it wasn’t.
Now I was doing my part to help. I couldn’t go scent clues or follow leads down digital rabbit holes.
What I could do was fix the hole in thewall,so he didn’t have a constant reminder of his failure. He didn’t find Mackenna.
Yet. I knew he would.
I didn’t know Gage well. He made sure of that. But I had this feeling about him. Somehow I just knew he didn’t give up on the things that mattered to him.
I swiped the excess spackle back into the tub, careful to avoid getting any on my skirt. I only owned two, and I wasn’t shelling out money for dry cleaning right now.
Sweat collected on the back of my neck, and I rubbed it as I stood. Blood had pooled in my legs while I crouched, making them numb and tingly. I stumbled upward, feeling lightheaded and realizing it was almost 1 o’clock and I still hadn’t eaten my breakfast.
I was going on almost two weeks of forgetting to eat breakfast, and it was catching up to me.
This job was more demanding now that Levi had me helping with pack responsibilities.Plus,I was constantly distracted by the looming presence in the office behind my desk and unfortunately, he was about to find me awkwardly sprawled out on his floor, passed out and probably drooling. The tingles started in my feet and hands, working their way up my arms and finally to my head.
I was familiar with what it felt like to faint, but it had been years since it happened and the fear that came with being out of control gripped me fiercely. My vision blacked out for only a moment before I felt something else gripping me.
Someone else.
“Abigail? What the fuck is happening?” A hand was tapping at my cheek, attempting to rouse me.
“Your hands are strong.”
Gage exhaled shakily. “I thought you were having a stroke or something.” He scowled down at me, still rapping his fingers against my cheek.
“Your hands are too strong. That kind of hurts.”
He growled, hefting me into his arms and plopping me onto his couch like he was afraid touching me would make him dirty. Good thing too, because my damsel in distress fantasies were running wild, what with the face slapping and angry glaring.
Not.
“Sorry.” I cupped my knees and leaned back into the cool leather as my pulse thrummed frantically in my temples. “I’m not dying, promise.”
“What happened?” He squinted between me and the can of spackle. “You huff that stuff?”
I gave a watery laugh. “I don’t think you can pass out from spackle fumes. It’s just blood sugar. I was too busy for breakfast and—” I stopped myself before I admitted that a propane stove doesn’t make for the quickest breakfast, and I was also too scared to stand in the dark in the middle of the woods while cooking oatmeal at five thirty in the morning.
September had faded quickly to October, and the days were short, meaning I spent most of my free time huddled in the cramped trunk of my car, trying not to think about what could be watching me through my window.
No one at work knew about my living situation and I needed it to stay that way. When I started I gave Levi the address to my personal mailbox. He was too busy to notice I hadn’t updated to a permanent residence. That was working in my favor.
He liked my performance right now, and I was afraid that would change if he realized I was sleeping in my car.
“Seriously?” He rolled his eyes. “Why are women like this?”
“That sounds dangerously close to a sentiment that can get you reported to HR.”
“You are HR,” he said flatly.
“Yes, and now you’re in big trouble. This isn’t a woman thing. This is just a me thing.”
“How can I fix it?” Gage was so serious when he said it, obviously irritated, but there was a quiet earnestness to his question that made my lips quirk.
“I just need a quick sugar injection and then I can go pick up lunch.”
Gage disappeared, grumbling to himself. He came back two minutes later with one of every candy bar the vending machine carried, dumping them in a pile on the couch next to me. He stared down at me expectantly, arms crossed over his broad chest.
I made a mental note to make a second HR report against him, this time for dress code. It was downright indecent to see his arms flexed in that tight T-shirt. Who was even wearing a T-shirt when it was fifty degrees outside?
My cheeks burned as I fished through the pile, grabbing some nougat bar and unwrapping it self-consciously.
I pressed my lips together, reassuring him with, “I won’t faint again. You can go back to whatever it was you were doing.”
Gage ignored me, nostrils flaring until I took my first bite of chocolate. Dang, sugar tasted so much better when you were hungry.
“What were you doing on the floor?” he asked.
“Fixing your wall.”
“That’s not your job.”
“I mean, it kind of is.” I was hired to be an officeassistant, but Levi called me his “jack of all trades” now, so no work was really off the table.
“It’s not.”
“Well,sorry.” I swallowed down the rest of my snarky response and explained, “I thought you would be able to focus better without the reminder about Mackenna.”
Gage blinked, his perpetual frown dissipating and leaving an oddly sad expression in its place. For a second I almost tricked myself into thinking he wanted to reach out to me, to express gratitude or something…more.Anoff-rhythm thump in my chest became jittery, like a bell was chiming inside me. Then his jawflexed,and he turned his back to me, huffing over to his desk and dropping into his chair so hard it squeaked.
“That’s not your job,” he repeated, then quietly added, “Tell me when you’re leaving to pick up lunch.”
“Why?”
“So, I can go with you and make sure you don’t pass out on the sidewalk.” Every time he delivered a sentence like that, I was surprised he didn’t end it with an exasperatedduh.
Which was totally at odds with what he was offering.
Whatever. He could be an asshole all he wanted. Just because he didn’t say nice things didn’t mean he wasn’t courteous—ish—when we were working together. That was all I needed.
Plus, it made things easier, because I felt these girly butterflies every time I sat next to his desk to take notes, and they lost their flutter very quickly when he was brusque.
“What the fuck is all this?” He suddenly noticed the tidy pile I set in the middle of his desk this morning.
“Prepaid cell phones,” I answered. “To hand out to shifters. I wanted to run it by you before I started setting them up and programming numbers in.”
His mistrustful eyes narrowed on me. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s my job,” I said in a singsong voice to hide my irritation.
“If Mackenna had a cell phone…”
I let him trail off, only filling the pause when it became clear he was disappearing into that same dark place as yesterday. “That’s what I thought. I’ll keepextrasin my desk with all the important contacts. I can add in the shifter friendly employers too.”
“Yeah, do that.” He nodded, suddenly refusing to look at me. Then, “And what the fuck isthis?”
I winced. This one was going to be a harder sell.
“That?” I pointed to the stack of papers in his hand. “That’s the transcript from my call with Connor Ware.”
“Your what?” He stood, crumpling the papers in his fist. “Why the hell did you call Connor Ware?”
I took the safest route and explained, “My boss told me to.”
Gage sputtered. “Levi told you to call Connor Ware?”
“He told me to do ‘whatever it took’ to help you find Mackenna.” I held up a finger before he could flip out. “Are you familiar with DylanBurladt?”
“He’s another anti-shifter asshole. This better be the best explanation you’ve ever given for anything, Abigail.”
I pressed my lips together. This really wasn’t the time to be laughing, but he was so over the top sometimes.
Gage rubbed the side of his neck, a sure sign he was agitated, so I picked up the pace.
“Anup-and-comingpolitician with old money, a background in law, and impeccable television charisma,” I corrected. “Andalso,another anti-shifter a-hole.
“Well, I volunteered to make calls for his campaign this week.”
Gage’s face turned a shade of purple. “You did what?”
“Just hold on!” I pulled at the ends of my hair. Why did I get excited when he was angry? “I volunteered to make calls for his campaign to cover myself so that when I called Connor Ware to digabouthis anti-shifter attitude, I wasn’t impersonating a campaign volunteer. Iama volunteer for theBurladtcampaign,and Idowant to know what interested Mister Ware inBurladt’sbid for office. I just didn’t tell himwhyI want to know.”
Gage looked at me, then the crinkled paper, then back to me. His mouth clicked open but all he could say was, “And?”
“It’s all there.” I gestured to what was left of the paper. “I also recorded the call, if that’s easier.”
“Summarize for me.”
“After a little sweet talking—”
“You flirted with Connor Ware?” he snarled.
My cheeks warmed. “No, I didn’tflirtwith him. It’s just a phrase! Maybe I acted a little dopier than usual because big dumb men like when they feel smarter than women.
“Anyway, he admitted that he likedBurladt’sstance on shifters. He thinks you’re dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed to walk freely on city streets. At the end of our phonecall,he was very eager to give me the number to a friend that he believes would also be a strong supporter of the campaign.”
“Did you call the number? Who was it?”
“Michael Lakes with Lakes International Import. I left him amessage,but I doubt he’ll call me back. I also doubt that Connor isactually friendswith him. Lakes International makes a lot of money and Michael Lakes probably has better places to hang out than Connor’s mom’s basement.”
“Michael Lakes. What’s the connection?”
I shrugged. “Maybe Michael Lakes is vocally anti-shifter. I couldn’t find anything concrete. His social media presence is just pictures of his sports car and pictures of him drinking expensive alcohol with cryptic captions.”
Gage smoothed the papers back out on his desk. He scanned the first page, index fingerrunning thoughtfully along his jawbone. “You got all of this out of Connor from one phone call?”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t tell if he was impressed or disappointed. Maybe both. “I never would have thought of that.”
“You’re more confrontational than me. Sometimesit’snot the right approach. That’s why we have each other.” My eyes widened as I realized how that sounded, and I rushed to add, “As team members. Professional coworkers. Work associates.”
Gage had gone still.
I saw my opportunityforescape and seized it, scooting to the edge of the cushion and testing my balance.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
Funny, I thought shifter hearing was supposed to besuperior. “I said, I’m late to pick up lunch and you’re clearly busy so I’ll just head down the street for some sandwiches and I’ll be fine.”
There was suddenly an imposing shadow spilling over me.
“The candy bar did the trick. No worries.” I slipped my hands into my lap to hide the shaking. It would pass and I would be fine but sooner if I wasn’t pinned with his full attention. Gage was intense in everything he did and if we didn’t have work in front of us that intensity was overwhelming.
I could never get a pulse on how he was feeling, even when the snap of his voice and tension in his shoulders should indicate irritation. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t entirely true. There was the bristling surface of Gage and then there wasmoreI could feelunderneath. I wasn’t dumb enough to think he was putting on an act, but I also got the impression the whole unapproachable thing wasintentional.
His icy eyes flitted over my face, as if searching forthelie. The familiar pinch of his brow told me he wanted to argue. It was never reallyarguingwhen Gage disagreed with me.He would tell me I was wrong, and that was the end of it. I’d been warned that dominant shifters could be bossy, and every shifter at Silver Bullet was top tier dominant.
That was the palpable energy I could feel like an aura around him. Dominance. The need to make smaller, weaker creatures submit. And damn if that didn’t send my mind into a very inappropriate tizzy.
I’d never thought of myself as kinky and yet, as my gaze travelled to those veiny forearms and square hands I couldn’t help but imagine them fisted somewhere much naughtier than his side. There were some women that exclusively slept with shifters—during my research for this job I saw a woman on Twitter claim, “once you go pack, you never go back,”—and I’ll admit I could see the appeal.
I’d yet to meet a shifter that wasn’t above average in height, fitness, and good looks. Gage wasn’t conventionally handsome but there was something about him. Something magnetic.
I caught myself staring at his eyes for longer than was polite while he talked, watching the curve of his lips, and how his throat moved with the deep rumble of his voice. The way his shoulders fought against his T-shirt as he stretched in his office chair was mesmerizing. Hell, I’d even noticed the shape of his fingers while he attacked his keyboard, noting how even that part of him seemed stronger and defter than a human man.
Just fleeting attraction from a lonely divorcée.
With an exasperated sigh Gage marched to the coat rack and wrenched his raincoat down, stuffing his arms into it. He curled his fingers, beckoning me to him.
I managed to stand with only a wobble, regaining some of my strength as the sugar hit my system.
“I really am fine.”
“Don’t argue with me, Abigail. Get your jacket.”
Gage held the door open for me when we left the office for the staircase—shifters and elevators did not mix. He propped it open only halfway, making it impossible for me to pass him without brushing against him. The contact sent goosebumps down my arms.
He did it again four blocks later as we entered a café to pick up soup and sandwiches, all but pinning me between the door frame and him. I gave him an odd look, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was glaring out across the crowded café, meeting every set of eyes that turned to us as we entered.
I could have sworn he leaned into me and sucked in a long breath, nodding subtly as if satisfied with what he smelled. Shifters were big on scent, but he was the only one that ever seemed concerned with mine. I tilted my head and pretended to run my handsthrough my hair so I could give my armpit a cursory sniff. Maybe I needed to switch deodorants.
It was past lunch time by almost an hour, but the lunch rush was long at this place. I couldn’t blame any of the people in line ahead of us. The Mayo was madein-house, and every sandwich was served with the tangiest coleslaw and the softest molasses cookie. My stomach growled for roast beef onrye,and I had to cross my fingersthatGage couldn’t hear it over the din.
As we stepped into the curving line, I felt a subtle pressure on my lower back. Again, it was there when two men in suits passed too closely beside us. Gage had his fingertipson the small of my back, guiding me so expertly that I barely realized I was following his lead. I glanced over my shoulder at him and saw that his attention was still fixated on the room, scowl firmly in place.
He wasn’t happy about being here. He wasn’t happy about most things, in my experience, but he especially did not like the confines of a crowded café. There were tiny tables clustered together at one end of the room. A display case loaded with cookies and bread was on the other, leaving just enough room in between for hungry people to pile up as they waited to order.
It didn’t help that every free surface of wall was covered in displays of brightly colored local art. The décor was excessive, making everything feel more cramped.
“You can wait outside if you want,” I told him.
I decided to interpret his responding snort as, “Yeah, right.”
So, he didn’t like me, but he wouldn’t let me pass out in the middle of a café and crack my skull. Gage was a nice guy, in his own weird way.
Hours of awkward silence seemed to stretch on as we waited our turn at the register. The worst part was that the awkwardness was one-sided. Gage was completely oblivious to my discomfort, scanning the room as if at any moment we would be under attack.
It hit me thenwhyhe was so on edge, and I studied him with a newfound sense of compassion. A muscle jumped in his jaw, his eyes flashing that too bright way a shifter’s eyes did when they were agitated. They zipped from face to face, never once stopping their frantic survey of our surroundings. His head twitched to the left.
Gage was struggling, and he wouldn’t even admit it to himself.
The young man behind the counter smiled when we finally reached him, greeting us with, “If it isn’t my favorite customer…” His crisp customer service voice faltered, eyes widening as the presence at my back was suddenly much, much closer to me.
I could feel the rise of Gage’s chest as he took uneven breaths. A murmur of a growlstarting when he locked eyes with the poor kid. I didn’t know what set the reaction off, but I needed to intercept him before he did something insane, like punch a barista for being too friendly.
Except someone else intervened first. A manager appeared from behind the young man, salt and pepper hair gelled tightly against his skull. He was tall, and a little hefty, and his white chef coat had greasy splotches across the front.
“Uh-uh,” he said urgently to the cashier, all but shoving him out of the way and waving a dirty rag at us. “We don’t serve shifters here.”
I blinked stupidly, trying to comprehend what he was saying. “You don’t serve shifters?”
“Nope. Not his kind.” This guy was shockingly brave. Gage was already on the cusp of being murderous just from standing inside, and now they were going to refuse himservice?
“You servedhis kindevery day for the lastmonthand it wasn’t a problem.”
“If I’d known your order was going to those freaks at that new security place, I’d have kicked you out too.”
My jaw dropped so far open it made a clicking sound. “You can’t be serious.”
A vibrating rumble was coming steadily off Gage, his eyes like silver fire. I half turned, planting my hand on his chest, and stilling him. The line that was forming behind us was suddenly further away, observers taking a healthy step back as they too realized what Gage was.
What he was, as if he was really any different from them.
“Take your dog and go.” The manager pointed to the door.
“Listen,Rafael,” I read off his name tag, “This man served your country.” I poked my finger at Gage. “He risked his life to protect you, your business, and everyone you love.”
Rafael propped his hands on the counter and leaned toward me. “I don’t give a shit what he did. Those freaks would kill all of us if they could get away with it. Now, get the fuck out of my establishment before I call the cops.”
“You weren’t complaining about the generous tip his firm left you,” I spat back.
Rafael reached into the tip jar by the register, grabbed a handful of bills, and chucked them at us. “There’s your money, mutt humper. Now,get the fuck out.”
Gage shoved my arm off him, circling around me to reach the counter. The move cleared the fog of my own anger. We did not need to prove that man right by attacking him—in front of dozens of witnesses—just because he was a world class jerk.
In a panicI did the only thing I could think of. I threw my arms around Gage’s neck, letting my knees buckle as I pretended to faint.
“Gage, I need you.”
I was a little too convincing and Gage wasn’t as concerned for mywellbeingas I thought. He disappeared from my grasp. The floor came barreling toward me.
Then I was swept off my feet, curled in his arms and twisting my legs awkwardly to keep my skirt from riding up. I flopped my head on his chest, acting weak.
Gage shoved the café door open with his shoulder.
“You’ll be hearing from our lawyers!” I shouted behind us as he made a quick retreat.
He took three more steps onto the sidewalk before dropping me. I stumbled, almost falling for a second time.
“Youfuckingfaker.” He was already swiveling back to the door, ready to finish what he started.
“Nope. Murder is not on the schedule today.” I was shaking, or maybe Gage was because I had my entire body locked around his forearm, dragging him down the street while he thrashed like a rabid dog.
Gage was heavy, and he resisted me the whole way, growling nonsense that woulddefinitely becomeevidence of premeditation if I didn’t put my backinto. I was sweating when we finally got around the block, collapsing onto a bench and praying that he wasn’t going to run away the moment I let go of him.
I wasactually woozyagain, stars dancing in my vision as I panted.
“Goddammit!”heshouted, his voice echoing between the buildings and temporarily drowning out the sound of traffic. “Are you okay?”
I snatched his hand, dragging him down onto the bench beside me. His eyes were still burning with his wolf, and I couldactually seefur bristling up his arms. “Are you?”
He scoffed, jerking his hand away from me. “It’s nothing new.”
I balled my fists.“Does that happen often?”How was I completely unaware of this widespread bias against shifters before now?
“Not to me,” he said.
“Towho?Kai? Mason?” I wiggled my phone out of the tight pocket on my skirt and tapped in the code. “Give me the names.”
“What names?”
“Of the businesses. Give me the name of every single one of them.”
Gage cocked his head, studying me. The lines on his face softened, and healmostsmiled. “Levi’s not going to sue over a couple of sandwiches.”
“He should. It’s discrimination.”
“Shifters aren’t protected under anti-discrimination laws.”
“What?”
Gage repeated himself, asking,“Did you read anything about The Initiative?”
I kept flipping through my phone. “I’ve only read the first half, about mandatory reporting.”
The usual frown returned to his face. “Your kind doesn’t care if we have access to housing, employment, or any other service.”
I jumped up from the bench, pacing steps away, then back. “Letsget one thing clear, Gage.” I pointed down the street toward the café. “That man is not my kind.I don’t understand what it’s like to be a shifter, and I certainly don’t understand what you’ve been through, but that will never be acceptable behavior to me.”
I sat beside him again, mostly because my legs were shaking with fury and adrenaline. Gage ignored my rant, glaring around the corner and probably calculating how fast he could get back there and kill everyone before I could stop him.
If that was how he wanted to handle it, that washis was choice.
I turned my attention back to my phone, typing furiously on the stupidly small keyboard. After a moment of stillness Gage snatched it from my hand, asking, “What are you doing?”
I snatched it back. “Writing them a bad review,” I answered. “And writing a letter to the city council, my state representatives, and whoever else Ican tolet them knowthey’re a disappointment.”
“Slow down, keyboard warrior,” Gage said, covering the screen before I pressed thepostbutton on the restaurant review app. “Don’t waste your time.”
“It’s not a waste of time.” I met his eyes, so steely and cool. “You deserve a good sandwich just like anyone else.”
“I don’t care about the sandwich.”
“Then why were you trying to kill that asshat?”
“Asshat?” he snorted. “You’ve been spending too much time with the guys.” Gage rubbed at his jaw, refusing to meet my gaze. “He insulted you.”
“Pretty sure he was insultingyou.”
“I’ve been called worse than freak.”
“And I’ve been called worse than mutt humper,” I assured him. “Sticks and stones.”
“By who?”
I shrugged. “My ex-husband’s new mate.”
He startled. “Your husband is mated to a shifter?”
“Ex-husband. I thought you knew that since you did my background check.”
“A background check is only to verify your identity and search for criminal history,” Gage explained.
“So, you’re telling me you don’t know all the juicy details about my life?” I said it with a teasing tone but truthfully I was relieved. I’d seen how much information Gage could gather on a person just from their public profiles online. I cringed at the thought of what he discovered about me.
He rubbed the back of his neck, still refusing to look at me. “I only know what Levi told me he needed.”
Lie . Gage was lying. There was no reasonable explanation for how I knew that but the metallic thump in my chest pinged sharply, and I just knew.
Did I have psychic tachycardia?
“Good to know.” I nodded slowly, studying his profile.
His head cocked in my direction, gaze meeting mine, and that unusual tug pinged again, soft and hopeful this time. The air was damp andcool,but my skin felt too warm. Lines formed across Gage’s brow, obscuring his eyes. Such a shame. They werereally lovelyeyes, the palest blue with flecks of silver and grey.
“Remind me your ex-husband’s name again.”
I smiled at him. “Do you think that pizza place serves shifters? I’m hungry.”
Twenty minutes later we were back in the office, putting a dozen pizza boxes on the break room table. A dozen pizzas seemed like overkill when I first started this job, but now I knew all twelve of them would be empty by the end of the day.
Shifters ate a lot. Keeping them fed was afull-timejob in itself.
Gage propped open the nearest box and grabbed a slice, shoving it in my hands and watching impatiently until I took a bite. He didn’t reach for his own until I finished the entire thing,crustand all.
I didn’t dare tell him that I hated pineapple on pizza. He was being nice, and I was doing everything I could to encourage it.
He chewed his own slice while we waited for the others, pointing to a pile of sad and wrinkly oranges on the counter by the microwave. “What’s with the oranges?”
They’re only $0.50 at the truck stop where I take my shower and every morning I manage to convince myself that an orange is a healthier option than a donut for breakfast.Even though a donut would betastier,and I can eat it one handed while driving which would prevent me from fainting on the office floor but somehow I’m still hung up on my ex-husband hounding me for “letting myself go” after we got marriedwhenI put ontwentypounds and never could lose them.
“Don’t want to get scurvy.” I forced a smile.
“Is that thebreakfastyou keep forgetting to eat?”
I cringed, turning to the cabinet to fetch paper plates. “It’s messy, and I don’t have time to peel it.”
“Ever heard of a banana? Takes two seconds to peel, and then I won’t find you dead on my rug.”
“Thanks for helping me get lunch,” I said gently. “Sorry people are jerks.”
“Don’t apologizeforother people,” he said, adding four more slices of pizza to his plate and leaning against the counter as he scarfed them down.
“I’ll let them know lunch is ready.” I fumbled through the door, escaping down the hall as fast as my legs would allow.
Gage was being nice—nice-ish—and now I was freaking out.
I wanted him to be nice. I wanted to have an amiable—and professional—relationship with him.
But there was that funny tingling in my chest. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry, or laugh, or run back to him and do anything to get him to keep talking. I felt this…incompleteness. A nagging sensation that told me I neededmore.
What Iactually neededmore of was independence.Self sufficiency. I needed to know I had it all under control.
Right now, I was kind of failing at that.
Couldn’t find a place to live. Couldn’t even remember to eat my damn breakfast.
It’s fine. This was part of the process. I had to relearn to be alone. Sooner or later, I would find my footing. I was going to be good at this.
So good at being alone.
The next day came the same as the last. I shuffled into the office exactly on time, removing my waterproof jacket and patting the droplets of rain from my bun.
I was about to sit at my desk, ready to finish as much paperwork as I could before I had to listen in on Levi’s meeting, when I noticed something on my desk.
Sitting beside my computer monitor, in a neat line, was a freshly peeled orange.