Page 51 of Playing For Keeps

And he only hoped he could find it and his way back to her.

“Well, even though it’s not a real plan in any way, it seems like your mind is close to being made up?” Rachel lifted her mug for him to tap his against.

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

He had savings. Even with a giant maw of uncertainty ahead, he would probably be able to hold off on finding something for a while. Sebastian was one man on a pretty big salary, hadn’t upgraded his car in years, and didn’t live beyond his means. He’d planned to accumulate his savings to comfortably put money down on a house, but maybe it could be a lifeline to him now.

“You’re going to march back into the office and quit before you work yourself to death. Then you’re going to get your girl back.” Rachel said it so bluntly, everything black and white when she opened her mouth. She made it sound so simple. It kind of pissed him off how concise and effective she could be. Or maybe she was just really good at reading people and knowing when to push.

“She’s avoiding me. I think it’s over for real.”

“She’s probably got her own shit to work through, same as you. If you really want it to work out with her, you can show her how important she is, and how much of an idiot you were.” Rachel rolled her eyes at him, and he felt himself chuckle for the first time in ages.

“What do I do?” As usual, he was lost under the anxiety of not wanting to fuck up again.

“Jesus, dude. Do I have to do everything for you? You really need to work on deciding things for yourself. She loves you, right?” It wasn’t so much a question as an accusation. Rachel’s index finger pointed at him, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“Yes?” At one point. Whether Farren still did, remained to be seen.

“And you love her?”

“Yes, but I fucked that up. I was too scared to tell her,” Sebastian sighed; admitting it was getting easier as time passed.

“Words hurt, words scar. She’s not going to believe a placating voicemail. Action. You have to show up. You have to prove it. You know her and what’s important to her. You’ll figure it out.” Rachel nodded, drained her coffee, and stood, waiting for him to get his butt in gear.

Apparently, this conversation was over.

He followed her to the office, the sharp clip of her short boots brokering no argument. When she gave him that look outside the office, the one that said she wasn’t going to accept any bullshit, he knew it was now or never.

Sebastian had long passed the threshold of being reasonable when it came to being a cog in the government wheel. He didn’t become a software developer for this. He was tired of them not giving a shit about him, of him not caring about himself and sacrificing good things for the sake of their circus. It was high time he took charge of his own life.

He walked up to Andrew’s office, knocking twice and stepping inside as soon as he heard what sounded like vague acknowledgment.

“Ian. What’s going on?” he asked. Sebastian shut the door behind him.

His fists clenched and unclenched, his mouth impossibly dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. But he thought of how miserable he was, even before meeting and losing Farren, how lost… Sebastian thought of all the life he’d missed out on. He thought of Rachel and her fucking stern look.

“I quit.”

It slipped out. No preamble. No warm-up.

“Excuse me?” Andrew drew back in shock, eyes wide, and Sebastian watched as his boss’s brain tried to catch up to what he’d heard.

“You heard me.” He had no idea where the confidence came from. But now that the words were out there, relief came and embraced him.

“Okay, whoa. Is this because of another offer? Because we can match it.” Andrew rose from his seat, not quite crossing the barrier of the desk between them. Clearly, the gesture was supposed to mean something.

“No. It’s not about another offer or promotion. It’s about me and how I’m not happy here.” Because he wasn’t; he was ashamed of how long it took him to see it.

It was the absolute truth. This job gave Sebastian something to do, a misguided sense of purpose, but it never brought him joy.

“Look, we can talk about this. A raise? You’re a good worker, Ian. I’d hate to lose you.” Andrew threaded his fingers together as he tried to negotiate something long gone.

“It’s not business. It’s personal. I appreciate your wanting to make it work, but I am not interested in remaining here. I’ll have my desk cleared out within the hour.” Sebastian didn’t even care that all the “fuck you” speeches he’d practiced never materialized. Freedom was within reach, and pettiness seemed like an obstacle.

“An hour? No notice?” Andrew gaped at him, looking a little like a catfish.

“The District is at-will,” Sebastian said and shrugged before he turned, pausing with his hand on the door handle.

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