And Storm is with me, leaning in the shadows of the alcove by the bathrooms, watching me the way men watch bridges in high wind during a hurricane.
Like I might collapse at any moment under the strain of what’s being thrown at me.
I can’t stand the look on his face but I understand it. I’m a broken fucking man with a broken dog that I can’t do anything about.
I scrub a hand over my face, taste metal at the back of my throat, and stuff the urge to cry down deep where it belongs. I haven’t cried since I was a kid. I don’t intend to start now.
I need air.
“Call me the second he’s out of imaging,” I tell the vet. “And text me every result as you get them.”
“We will.”
A tech nods; she already has my number. Everyone here does because that’s the only thing I can control right now. The flow of information.
“Con—” Storm starts.
I hold up my hand, halting him when he would follow, and push through the glass doors of the entry, letting them bang closed behind me. Night air off the river, damp and cool, does nothing to calm the fever racing through my veins. I walk out into the parking lot, where the tungsten lights hum, and pull my phone out of my pocket. I know it’s not going to do any good, but I open up my phone app, and like I’ve done twenty-eight times since midnight, thumb over to Phoenix’s name and call.
I listen to it ring. Once. Twice. Three times before it switches over to voicemail.
She doesn’t have the goddamn thing on her. Wherever she is.
I walk to the far end of the lot where the light doesn’t reach and make myself breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Then I call again, wait for voicemail to connect, and this time I speak.
“Phoenix.” My voice is all gravel, and I take a second to clear it. “Princess, it’s me.”
I’m quiet a minute, waiting, like she’s going to answer. The words won’t fucking line up. I force myself to continue.
“Zeus is with me. He’s safe. I got him to a vet, and he’s getting the best care, and I’m not leaving him. I—” I stop. Try again. “You’re scaring the hell out of me, Phoenix. If you needed space, you just had to tell me. You don’t disappear. Not like this.”
I fall silent. Cars wash by on the road, a long hiss. I dig my fingers into my palm until it hurts. I know she didn’t just leave, know she didn’t need space. Somehow it feels better to say that, though, to leave that there like it’s a possibility.
It makes it feel like the other option isn’t quite as real.
I scrub my fingers across my forehead. “Damnit, Phoenix, we’re not doing this to each other again.”
More silence. It hums with expectation…or maybe it’s just pity. Nobody’s listening. Not Phoenix, not whoever took her, not God or whatever deity might bring her back to me.
“Just…call me. Whatever this is, I’ll fix it. I’ll get on a plane, a boat…I’ll fucking crawl if I have to. I don’t care what I said, what I didn’t say, whatever you think I meant. Just…come back to me. Please.”
The last word scrapes against something I don’t let anyone hear. I almost say I’m sorry. I almost say too much.
I stare at the red button, and then I hit delete. The message blinks out of existence like it never happened.
I text her because that’s safer.
Zeus is safe. Where are you?
The tinydeliverednotification showing that she received my message never appears.
Behind me, the clinic doors swish open in the distance, but Storm doesn’t step outside. He lets me have the space between us. That’s good. I need to sort out the shape of the problem without anyone else’s voice getting in the way.
The phone pings a notification, and I jerk it up, only to feel the tension in my shoulders visibly deflate.
Not her.
Atticus:There are no badge pings on any exits. Camera 18B lost twenty-three minutes, though. Trying to work around it.
