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His immediate response was that he didn’t want Rowan to be where he couldn’t see him. Where he couldn’t get his hands on him. Where he couldn’t annoy him or hear his grumpy voice. Where he couldn’t get into his house and plant more of his things around the place. Where he wouldn’t be able to make it closer to Rowan’s bedroom inch by inch.
He wanted to stamp his foot in protest and demand that Rowan stay.
For the first time in his life, he held his tongue and didn’t act on his first impulse. “Okay.”
Rowan frowned. “Okay?”
Didn’t he know how much of a struggle that was for him to even say? He was trying to be reasonable here!
“Thank you for letting me know.”
“Don’t you want to know when I’ll be getting back?”
YES!
“If you want to tell me,” Milo demurred.
Rowan frowned harder. “I’ll be gone for a week. I’ll get back on Monday.”
“A WEEK?” he exclaimed, too loudly, and at the surprise in Rowan’s previously gloomy expression, he reined it back in. Coughing, he said, “Isn’t that a little long for a business trip?”
“I have to meet with a partner company and discuss some things. They’re always long-winded and schmoozy.”
“Well I have things to be doing anyway,” Milo said, trying to play off his reaction.
“Oh.” Rowan looked down. “I mean, of course. You’re always pretty busy.”
Was he disappointed? Milo didn’t know.
“When do you leave?” Milo asked, throat thick.
“Tomorrow morning.”
They held eye contact, a thousand things bubbling under the surface. Milo finally couldn’t take it anymore and opened his mouth—
“Milo. Finish whoever needs finishing off in there. Things are getting busy and I need you to change a barrel,” Sheryl called through the door.
“I’ll get going,” Rowan said, blushing as he righted his clothes.
He was gone before Milo could say anything else, a heavy feeling sinking in his chest.
He made it through the rest of his shift distractedly, and not in his usual way where he still somehow managed to make it work.
He’d hooked up a cider barrel instead of a beer barrel. He’d smashed multiple glasses. Sheryl was the only thing keeping them afloat by the end of the night, so he’d given her all his tips as a small apology.
When he eventually slunk his way home he found the usual suspects up and about.
Old people didn’t really sleep in regular patterns, and he often found them wandering around at all hours, day or night.
Shelly was in the middle of a séance as he walked through to the main room, with her eyes closed and the small round table dressed up with her usual trappings. A crystal sat in the center with candles lit all around.
“The spirits told me of your arrival,” she murmured.
Milo snorted. “That’s what usually happens at the end of my shift. I come home.”
“They also told me about the fluctuations in your aura.” She peeked an eye open and crooked a ringed finger at him. “Come sit and I’ll cleanse you.”
“I don’t need cleansing, I’m perfectly fine. Peachy keen.” Milo ignored the gnawing in his chest and the sick feeling in his stomach. It was ridiculous to feel this way.
