I followed him into the dark corridor and said, "You can't keep doing this, Rogan," in a shaky but forceful voice. "You can't ignore me like I'm unimportant."
His back tensed as he stopped in the middle of his stride, but he didn't look back. Rather, he let out a sharp breath and combed through his tangled hair.
He said in a quiet, aloof voice, "This isn't about you, Ava."
My anger erupting, I retorted, "Oh, don't give me that." "I deserve to know why you're retreating. We simply— I stammered, remembering our kiss as I spoke. We simply had something. Or I believed that we did.
I briefly believed he would completely ignore me, but then he turned with an unreadable face. His normally ferocious eyes were aloof, as if he had already decided on something he couldn't bring himself to speak out loud.
He responded, "You thought wrong," in a tone that was colder than I had ever heard.
I stared at him in disbelief as the words struck me like a slap. "What is wrong with you?"
With his arms crossed as if he were bracing himself, Rogan declared, "This isn't about us." "This has to do with Aria."
"Aria?" I said it again, just above a whisper. "Rogan, Victor has had influence of Aria for some months. We'll work things out together, no matter what she's going through. However, that doesn't imply—
He interrupted, raising his voice, "I owe her everything." "Ava, she saved me. Aria was there for me when no one else would have cared and I was at my lowest. And now... she is the one in need of rescue. I am unable to... I refuse to become sidetracked.
"Are you distracted?" The word made my heart tighten. To you, that's what this is? A diversion?
His jaw tensed, but he remained silent. More weight than any words he could have spoken, the silence hung between us.
I finally responded, "You don't mean that," as I moved in closer. "I am aware that you don't."
However, Rogan stepped back, averting his gaze from mine. "Ava, you don't get it. My emotions for you are impairing my judgment. And I need to be able to think clearly right now. For Aria. For the battle to come.
Tears stung me, but I fought the need to cry. That's it, then? Are you simply going to ignore me because you believe it to be the right thing to do?
His voice was hardly audible above a whisper as he replied, "I'm trying to protect you."
I retorted, shaking my head, "No." "You're attempting self-defense."
The ensuing days were a haze of anxiety and evasion. Rogan was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. He pushed himself into getting ready to face Victor, his attention relentless, yet each time we met, he was aloof, a shell of the man I believed I was starting to get to know.
Claire saw, of course. She knew too well not to.
One evening, as I was stirring a cup of tea absently, she cornered me in the kitchen and demanded, "What's going on with you two?"
"Nothing," I blurted, averting her eyes.
Claire gave a snort. "All right. Because "nothing" really explains why you always appear like you've been taken by surprise when he enters the room.
With a sigh, I put down the spoon more firmly than was necessary. "He's... pulling away." claims he must concentrate on Aria.
"Aria?" Claire crossed her arms and scowled. "That isn't rational. Although Aria is important to Rogan, this isn't about her. It concerns you. as well as him. Additionally, he is too obstinate to acknowledge whatever is happening between you two.
I muttered, "Maybe," but doubt was eating at me.
Things didn't get out of hand until the night of the strategy meeting. With blueprints and maps laid out on the table, everyone was assembled in the war room. Standing at the head, Rogan described the next stages in a steady voice.
But I was distracted. He avoided looking at me, and I couldn't help but see the stiffness in his shoulders that hadn't subsided since our quarrel.
I remained behind, determined to find answers, until the conference was finally adjourned.
As the rest filtered out, leaving us alone, I said, "Rogan."
He avoided looking at me. "Ava, what is it?"
With a shaky but determined voice, I said, "I need to know." "Are you sure that pushing me away is the wisest course of action? Or are you simply afraid of what this—what we—might entail?
For a brief minute, I could see the turmoil in his eyes when he finally turned to face me. However, his expression hardened as he steeled himself.
"What I think is irrelevant," he declared. The important thing is to keep you secure. And I'm willing to preserve my distance if that means it.
My voice broke as I said, "That's not fair." "You have no right to decide that for me."
"Perhaps not," he acknowledged. "But I'm making that decision."
His tone was like a stab to the heart because it was final.
I had trouble sleeping that night. Each of Rogan's remarks pierced my psyche more deeply than the one before it. I wanted to despise him for his intransigence and refusal to let me in. However, I had another understanding.
He was afraid of losing someone else and of making a mistake that would be impossible to reverse. And he was pushing me away out of fear, telling himself it was better that way.
However, it wasn't.
The knowledge struck me like a lightning strike, and I sat up. I would defend us if Rogan wasn't going to.
Determining to find him, I put on a jacket and went downstairs. However, I froze when I got to the bottom of the stairs.
A chilly wind was leaking into the house through the open front door.
"Rogan?" My voice reverberated in the empty room as I called.
No response was found.
With my heart racing, I went outside and looked about in the dark. At that moment, I noticed a man striding purposefully toward the woods.
"Rogan," I said, feeling a mixture of terror and resolve constrict my chest.
I followed mindlessly.