Page 100 of The Revenge Agenda

Then he leaves me standing there as he makes his way across the office.

Even for Rush, that was weird.

It’s not like I expected a kiss goodbye or anything like that, but one of his sweet looks wouldn’t be too much to ask for, right?

I attack my thumbnail with my teeth the whole way to my office. If I’m going to be dating Rush, I need to understand that he might not always behave the way I want him to or how I’m used to. It’s like any relationship, and we’re still in the adjustment period. Still getting to know each other.

And this is a whole new side of him I get to learn about.

Except … all last night, and again this morning, the feeling that I’m missing something is sitting heavy over me. Rush said he needs guidelines, a set expectation so he knows how to behave, and I think I might need those as well. I don’t just want to be dating him; I want to be his partner. I want to be able to rely on him when I need to and then return the support.

We never really talked about those days he spent in his atelier, if something triggered the reaction or how to handle it when it happens again. Because it will, if what his roommates had to say is any indication. That was definitely a situation where Rush needed something from me, but I have no idea what that something was.

It’s not just those moments either.

It’s days like today, where his mind is clearly elsewhere.

It’s days like last week, where he can’t physically make himself get through his work.

And he needs to know the same about me.

On days where I don’t feel like enough, he needs to know how to handle me. How to calm those thoughts and bring me back to myself.

On days where I’m untethered and out of control—and those days are common at the moment—he needs to know how to ground me.

We have a lot of big conversations in our future.

The thing is, I’m confident we can tackle them.

All day, I’m treated to a view of Rush. It’s different from what I’m used to. Less chaotic. He’s at his desk for most of the day, sitting quietly, but I get the impression he’s not actually working. He’s too still. Too busy staring off across the bullpen or tapping his pen against his nose or completely engrossed in his phone.

He hasn’t even looked at P.L. Ant, who I left on his desk this morning. Our poor baby is so neglected.

And my poor baby is struggling with something.

Throwing caution to the wind, once lunchtime rolls around, I leave my office and approach his desk.

“You free for lunch?”

He blinks at me for a moment, like he’s struggling to work out what I said. “Ah, yeah.” He chances a quick look at the others. “Do we have businessy things to discuss?”

“Sure.” I make a mental note to invite the others for lunch at some point over the next week. “Let’s go.”

I’m hoping that leaving the office, at least for a short while, will get Rush back out of his head. There’s a small sandwich shop across the street that we snag a table at before I go and order for us both. He’s still quiet and vacant when I get back and sit across from him, but I get the feeling there’s a lot going on in his head.

“Talk, Rush.”

“What do you mean?”

I try to make my smile reassuring rather than sympathetic. “There’s something bothering you.”

“There’s a lot of things bothering me. Like global warming. The water shortage. Whether I paid the gas bill on time?—”

“Do those things usually make you distant?”

“Well, I’m never actually distant from me, so how would I know?”

I rub my temple, wondering how I get through to him. “How do I make what I’m saying clearer?”

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