Chapter 66

FREYA

"Troja," Connor said, dragging me back to the present, snapping me out of the fog that had clouded my thoughts.

"Yes? What?" I sat up straight, trying not to cringe at having zoned out. I'd probably missed a major part of the conversation; I couldn't remember the last thing he said.

Noah's visit to the cafe that morning had left me disturbed. A rising panic accompanied each second he spent there. He hadn't been abusive throughout our relationship—only once. And there was no chance he could hit me in a cafe full of customers. But I couldn't shake the feeling.

I thought I'd handle it well, but abuse leaves behind trauma, even if it's not repeated. You don't know the feeling unless you've experienced it. I had. "You're awfully distracted today," Connor observed, his sharp gaze steady.

I fidgeted under his scrutiny, trying to pull myself together. "I'm sorry," I trailed off, unsure what to say. I didn't like sharing personal problems, but I also didn't want to be rude.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his face unreadable, almost clinical. To anyone else, it might have seemed like he didn't care. But I knew better. He was like Aiden—hard on the outside, but with surprising layers if you paid attention.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "No. Everything is fine. I just had a… morning."

I wasn't sure he believed me, but Connor was never one to push unnecessarily. Instead, he leaned back, arms folded. "Well, you should go home."

"Fine. I'll pay full attention, I promise." I raised my pinky in a playful attempt to diffuse the tension, hoping for even a flicker of a smile. Instead, he stared at me with the same stoic expression.

"Go home. Take some rest. You need it. I'll email you the details. Get back to me whenever you can." He had the file, meaning the discussion was shelved. But I hesitated, feeling relief and guilt.

"Yeah. Now get out of here." His tone was final.

"Okay. I'll see you," I said, picking up my bag and heading for the door.

As I closed the door to his office, a storm of thoughts swirled in my mind. Frustration mixed with exhaustion. A wasted trip. The meeting hadn't accomplished anything. I hadn't been able to focus, let alone contribute. Connor wasn't wrong; I was just… off.

Stepping into the elevator, I exhaled deeply. Maybe I could go back to the cafe and see how Avery was doing. The thought of baking something sweet appealed to me—peanut butter brownies, perhaps. Gia had been pestering me about them for over a week.

The hum of the elevator was soothing, and I mentally mapped out my afternoon. Then my phone buzzed, breaking the quiet. I fumbled in my bag, pulling it out.

The number on the other end surprised me. I couldn't think of a reason why he would call, especially after the confrontation the day after his mother's surgery. He'd left things… unfinished, and I hadn't expected him to reach out. The message was unfamiliar, serious, almost urgent, but with an undercurrent I couldn't place. A knot tightened in my stomach.

"Hello?" His voice was sharp, and I could hear the edge in it.

My voice was sharper, a mix of curiosity and irritation. "What could possibly be so urgent that it can't be said over text?"

"Why?" My irritation grew. I hated being kept in suspense, especially when I was already stressed.

"Hold on. Because I need to talk to you."

"Whatever it is, can it wait?" I asked, feeling the weight of the day pressing down. I wanted to bake, to lose myself in the simple act of creating something wonderful.

"No, it can't wait. I need to talk now," he said, his voice intense.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. This wasn't how I wanted the day to end. "Send me a location, or I will," he added, cutting through my thoughts.

"Silverbirch Park," I said. I didn't want to risk any kind of confrontation there.

"Be there in fifteen minutes," he replied, and the line went dead.

As I put my phone back in my bag, my mind whirred with worry. What could possibly be so important? I should find out what he needs. The uncertainty left a sour taste in my mouth. I pressed against the elevator wall, trying to steady my thoughts. Whatever it was…