Freya’s POV

By the time I was done cleaning up at Clarence’s place, my arms were sore, my back ached, and my head buzzed with everything strange that had passed between us. The coffee. The conversation. And the most unnerving of all—his concentrated gaze, settling on my skin like he was trying to pry me open and look at the version of me that lived underneath.

I didn’t stick around to make it weirder.

I just grabbed my things, thanked him ...