Six Weeks Later

I frowned as I walked into my office and saw the now familiar red ball sitting on my desk. I went over and sat down in my chair. I reached over and picked up the ball, rolling it around in my hand while I wondered what the hell I was going to do.

Ever since I'd taken legal possession of the house and started to move in, I'd been haunted by that fucking ball. It would be on my nightstand when I woke up in the morning, on my desk whenever I went in for a writing session, and once it had even appeared on top of the TV while I was watching porn.

Well, I wasn't really watching the porn so much as thinking about Milo while two men grunted in the background. I'd looked up from my flaccid cock in frustration, only to see that damned red ball sitting on top of the TV. I could have sworn it hadn't been there when I'd sat down, but who the hell knew anymore.

I'd accused Milo of gaslighting me, but short of someone living in the walls, that was impossible now. I'd changed the locks, installed locks on every window, and even put in a security alarm. But I still kept having weird, inexplicable happenings.

I still hadn't bothered to furnish the house yet. I had a bedroom suite in my room, a desk in the office, and a basic living room set-up with a TV in one of the smaller parlors downstairs. Other than that, the place was still as empty as the day I'd first seen it. Well, except for me and the fucking red ball.

I just didn't have the heart to make a home here without Milo. I'd fucked up. And the worst part was that I'd known it while I was doing it, but hadn't calmed my shit down and reined in my temper before I'd destroyed my chance at forever.

The ball wasn't the only thing either. I'd kicked off my favorite slippers one night in front of the couch, and dozed off while watching TV. But when I woke up, only one was there. I'd torn the room apart, but the other slipper was nowhere to be seen. And it wasn't anywhere else in the house either. I'd begrudgingly put the lone slipper on the shelf under the TV stand in case the other one showed up at some point. But it had been a month, and I was still being mocked every time I watched TV and the damn slipper sat there looking at me.

I'd woken up more than once to hear the faint strains of jazz playing, but could never find the source. Lights would be on in rooms that I could have sworn I'd turned them off in, and that damned door to the attic? Sometimes it was locked, other times it wasn't. More than once I'd smelled delicious scents coming from the kitchen. But it was always cold, bare, and unused the few times that I'd dared to follow my nose in to investigate the scent. At night, I would sometimes hear a floorboard creak overhead, as if someone were walking around up in the attic.

I was thisclose to losing my damn mind. But yet, the overwhelming atmosphere of the house was still peaceful. I felt like it could truly be my forever home, but it wouldn't be because something was missing. Well, someone. That ship had sailed though. After what I'd said to him, there was no way that Milo would ever give me another chance.

And then there was Agatha. I hadn't had the heart to ask her where she lived or how she kept getting in. But at least once every couple of days, she would randomly walk into a room I was in to shoot the breeze as though she belonged there. It would be down right spooky if she wasn't such a sweet old lady. And given how lonely I was, I found myself enjoying her random visits.

Ian had suggested that I adopt a dog. It was tempting, just for the company alone. But I was afraid of how an animal might react in this weird old house that I loved so much. At night, I dreamed of running in the yard with a floppy eared mutt while Milo chased us. There was a little one toddling around with Milo, but I always woke up before I could see him too closely.

As if I'd conjured her with my pondering, Agatha came walking briskly into my office. She carried a dusty book in her arm, a cobweb waving from the top of it as she moved into the room.

“Hello, son. How are you today? Did you get much writing done this morning?” She was always interested in my writing, although I couldn't imagine how she knew about my secret profession.

I shrugged. “I haven't really gotten started yet, Aggie. What are you up to today?” At some point, she'd insisted I call her by the pet name. It was familiar to me now, as familiar as her heady lilac perfume.

“Oh, this and that. I'm never really up to much. That's grumpy husband of mine sees to that, I'm afraid.” She smiled gently, knowing as well as I did that no man would ever boss this lady around and live to tell about it.

“What do you have there, Aggie? It looks like you dug it out of a musty old attic or something.” I nodded toward the old book she cradled in her arm.

“Well, I have a job for you. I cannot stand by while that sweet boy is pushed out of business by a thieving harpy.” She walked closer and set the book down in front of me. Goosebumps broke out all over my body as I read the title. Personal Recipes was handwritten on the cover in faded ink.

I sucked in a breath. “Is that...?” She nodded. “You have to mend fences with him, Rafe. It's time, and soon he will need you. Now. I'm not supposed to interfere, but this is important so I'm bending rules a bit. My sweet boy only has until tomorrow to prove his claim. You need to get up and take this to him. Today.”

I paled as I pushed my chair back to put distance between me and the proof of Milo's claim. “You don't understand, Aggie. I said awful things to him in a heated moment that I can never take back.” I rubbed a hand over my face, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “He will never forgive me. Trust me on that.”

Aggie smiled gently at me. “Son, the only thing that I've learned during my time on this earth is that forgiveness can't be received unless an apology is given. And Rafe? I know all about the things that you said to him, and how both of your hearts were broken that night. Trust an old woman on this though. No heart has ever been broken that can't be mended with a true apology and a willingness to change.”

“But what if I'm too afraid to apologize? I don't dare show my face around him. No, Aggie. I'm sorry, but I just can't do it.” Even as I spoke, I remembered my dreams of Milo and a toddling child. Wouldn't happiness like that be worth groveling for?

“It would, Rafe. You go and grovel. Throw your alpha butt down at his feet and beg him to give you another chance. Neither of you will ever find the same happiness with another that you will together.” She tapped a gnarled finger to her wrinkled brow. “I know things, son. Trust Aggie on this one, hmm? But you must go now. Today.”

I was confused for a second, wondering if she'd read my mind or if I'd spoken aloud about my dream. When I looked up to ask, she was gone again. Only the heady lilac fragrance and the dusty old book remained as proof that she'd been there. I rolled the ball around in my hand a few more times, as I weighed the pros and cons. Then as if she were still in the room, I heard Aggie's voice whisper in my ear: “Just go to him.”