I could see it.
I could hear it.
SFE and Farrow don’t get along to this day.
Over frying bacon, Akara told me,“You’ll need to dig into Farrow harder, so none of the guys think he’s getting special treatment.”
Akara knew that I’d already been trying to grill him.
I nodded.“You stay easy on Farrow. I’ve been a pain in his ass this long. You don’t need to lose his respect.”
Akara would’ve been willing to be the bad guy, but he’s better at balancing the friend and boss role than I am.
I still remember what my brother said that morning. With a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, Banks told us,“You two doing the good-cop, bad-cop routine, and it’s starting to make me look like the fucking cowboy.”
Epsilon cooled off once I chewed out Farrow for every minor infraction. Things that I wouldn’t even rag them about. I was on his case all the fucking time, and I even had to dock his pay during the FanCon whenever he broke the rules.
Akara and I were dealing with soured feelings in SFE because we voted to keep Farrow on the team.
After he had sex with a client.
Multiple times.
It’s ironic that I spent so long trying to control the situation, and I ended up being the one to lose my temper and punch him.
There’s no excuse for it.
I take full responsibility for my mistakes.
After that, I promised myself that I’d back off Farrow for good.
Now he’s facing me in a cluttered living room that smells like fresh flowers and spring—likeJane—and he’s wondering why I’m not hounding him for comms.
My gaze is as soft as it can be. “I don’t care how you do your job,” I say truthfully. “Just that you do it.”
He tips his head, running his tongue over his molars, and he skims me up and down, gauging my sincerity. “Honestly, at this point I couldn’t care less why you’ve been a raging asshole towards me as long as you’re not one anymore.”
I nod once. I wish I could put the past behind me as well as Farrow can. Maybe then my life wouldn’t consist of me pulling the pins off so many fucking grenades.
Farrow drops his voice to a low, rough whisper. “Just don’t coddle me. Don’t kiss my ass as penance. Don’t fuck with my fiancé or Jane, and we won’t have a problem.”
Easy.I nod again, and comms sound off in my ear.
“Quinn, do you need something from the grocery?” Akara repeats.
Oscar chimes in, “Speak up, little bro.”
The line hangs, waiting for a response. Farrow chucks the milk jug to Maximoff, who appears in the archway.
He catches it easily.
“Trash,” Farrow tells him.
Maximoff is giving us a weird look. It’s rare that we stand this fucking close while we’re off-duty.
Akara speaks in my ear. “Thatcher, is Quinn still asleep?”
I crossed paths with Quinn Oliveira in the kitchen. We were both eating breakfast, and I’m not someone who will cover his ass for the Omega lead. Akara needs to know.