Page 40 of Omega's Fire

“Your friends” He hesitates. “If you remember you havethose.”

I grab one of the coffee cups and take a long drink to avoid responding. It’s exactly how I like it—black, no sugar and strong enough to wake the dead.

“I’m fine,” I say once I’ve swallowed.

“Clearly.” Halvorsen gestures to the apartment. “This is the picture of mental health and stability.”

“What do you want, Ben?” I ask, suddenly tired. “A statement for the Bureau PR team? Reassurance I haven’t completely lost my mind? What?”

He opens the paper bag, pulling out a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. “I want you to eat something. Hell, maybe consider rejoining the land of the living.”

The sandwich is pressed into my free hand before I can object. It’s a good sharp cheddar, lettuce and tomato on sourdough. Still warm and just the right amount of chipotle. The problem with Halvorsen is that I’ve known him too long. We were college room mates, then started at the Bureau the same year. He knows exactly what I like. My stomach rumbles again.

I sit at my small kitchen table, pushing aside a stack of journals to make room. Halvorsen takes the seat across from me, his own coffee cradled between his hands. He waits while I take a few bites.

“The Department meeting is next week,” he says finally. “They’ll be discussing your sabbatical.”

I snort. “You mean whether to extend my exile?”

“Self-pity doesn’t suit you, Nash.” Halvorsen says flatly. “Yes, the Torres situation was unfortunate...”

“Unfortunate?” I repeat, anger flaring suddenly. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Halvorsen meets my gaze. “What would you call it?”

It’s a good question. What would I call it? A disaster? A wake-up call? The most profound connection I’ve ever experienced,followed by the most devastating rejection?

Halvorsen just sits, waiting for me to come up with an answer. He takes a sip of his coffee and raises his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t know,” I say finally. “He’s my true mate, Ben. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? “

“I’m glad you asked,” Halvorsen says. The corner of his mouth turns up as if he is amused. “Because I’ve come with a proposition. Not just food.”

I raise an eyebrow, suddenly wary. “What kind of proposition?”

“A teaching position. At the university. Starting next semester.” He leans forward slightly. “Evolutionary Psychology, three courses. They need someone with your expertise.”

Halvorsen holds my gaze. “I recommended you personally.”

“Why?” I ask bluntly.

Halvorsen shrugs, feigning casualness. “The university needs the position filled. You need something to do beyond wallowing in your apartment. It’s win-win.”

Then it hits me. “Torres is still enrolled there, isn’t he? Finishing his law degree.”

Halvorsen’s expression tightens almost imperceptibly. Bingo.

“Yes,” he admits, watching me carefully. “But the Evolutionary Psychology department is on the same side of campus as the law school. You don’t need to deliberately seek him out to cross paths.”

A spark ignites in my chest. Leo is still there. Still on campus. Still within reach.

“I see,” I say, struggling to keep my voice neutral. “And would that be a problem?”

“Would what be a problem?” Halvorsen asks, though we both know exactly what I mean.

“If I were to... encounter Torres on campus.”

Halvorsen sighs, setting down his coffee cup. “That depends what you do with it. It’s a double opportunity. It’s a way back into academia and you’ll be in proximity to Leo. Just don’t stalk him too hard or it’ll blow up again.”

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