Dylan went to work on Monday, but he wasn’t really there. Not that his position as assistant manager at PCGlobe required his undivided attention, but he could barely stay focused on the few daily tasks he did have. Twenty-four hours after Gena had flown away, flapping her powerful wings around his bedroom and out the window, and he was still thinking about her. Not just thinking about her. Absorbed in her. His bed still smelled of her, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to change the sheets. She had left her clothes in his room, and he hadn’t given into the impulse to fondle them—or shift and smell them—but he was still aware of each garment. Each piece of clothing that didn’t belong there.
He wanted to go to her again, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He had already gone begging for an
