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“I’m sorry, Rogan. She’s going to need some time,” Gramma replied.
“Mrs. Fields, I have to see her. I have to know she’s okay. Please.”
In the bedroom, Farren’s hands reached up to cup her face as her anguish at the situation threatened to consume her. A part of her wanted to let him in, but she didn’t know what do believe anymore. Even though it had all happened years ago, long before they met, she felt an enormous betrayal that she wasn’t sure she could ever get past, even aside from everything with Edith.
“Give her some time,” Gramma urged again, and the compassion was evident in her voice.
When Farren heard the door close and silence loomed in the apartment once more, Farren broke down, unable to hold back the onslaught of tears and agony.
Gramma came back in the room, but Farren waved her away.
“I just want to be alone right now,” she said between sobs.
She was defeated, exhausted, and emotionally battered. How was she ever going to get through this?
TWENTY
“Boss, are you sure there’s nothing I can help with?” Rita asked, standing in Rogan’s office doorway.
He didn’t look up. “Positive,” he muttered, thinking if he ignored her she would go away.
Instead, Rita shifted on her hip and leaned against the door frame. He looked up at her slowly, and through gritted teeth, he asked, “Did I stutter?”
Rita quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed with his unhospitable mood. “Sir, it’s been over a week. I don’ know what’s going on, but things just aren’t the same around here.”
She was right. With every passing day, it felt as though he were drifting further into some dark abyss. He’d tried getting Farren to talk to him. He’d gone to her Gramma’s apartment every morning before work and every evening after, hoping she’d at least let him in to talk.
The most he’d gotten was some time with Harley, which killed him knowing Farren was only as far as the other side of a wall away but unwilling to even lay eyes on him.
He’d called countless times, but each one went to voicemail after one or two rings, the classic tell that she had hit the Ignore button. Even his texts went unanswered, no matter how many professions he’d made that he missed her, he loved her, or pleas to just talk to me.
All were met with radio silence. It was infuriating at the same time it devastated him. He was at a loss for the first time in a very long time, being powerless to do anything.
“Boss?” Rita broke through his thoughts.
“Don’t you have work to do?” he snapped.
“No, it’s ten ‘til six. My shift’s been over for nearly an hour,” she replied, unaffected by his venomous glare.
“Then go home,” he ordered, turning back to the screens of his computer.
Rita stood for a while longer in silence. “Goodnight, then,” she finally said and closed his office door behind her.
He sat in the deafening silence. He looked over to the door that led to Farren’s office, and the angry, burning hole in his chest pulsated with ghost pains that were nearly crippling.
Unable to focus on work, he shut everything down and decided to pay a visit to the only other person he called family. Twenty minutes later, he found himself ordering a vodka on the rocks from the bar at Elaina’s Lounge.
“Might as well pour the next,” he said as the bartender, a young red-headed woman, slid his first drink in front of him.
He sat alone, drinking the edge off his misery for about a half hour before a familiar voice broke his reverie.
“You look like hell, Rogue,” Elaina said, leaning her elbows on the bar top in front of him from behind the bar.
He let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, well, apparently that’s where I live now days.”
He tossed back what remained of drink number five before meeting her eyes.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here,” she said.
