Briefly, I toyed with the idea of following Devon, especially if she was going to see the Fallen Saints. Maybe that would show me something that I hadn’t anticipated?
But if the whole point was to stay out of harm’s way, that seemed stupid.You’ll ruin your relationship with her, and you’ll get yourself in danger.
With some regret, I decided not to press my luck. I sat in my seat, my car in park, my foot far away from the gas pedal, as I saw Devon drive out of the parking lot. I was in a spot where she could have seen me, but if she was anything like I was after work, she was probably exhausted and just wanted to get home. The end of a long shift was about the last place where we wanted to be if we needed to think critically.
I then got the idea to call her, but of course, with my phone back at my house, I needed to get home first. In any case, I felt I had cleared my head enough, or at least to the point that I had fewer concerns about Michael and more about Devon. I put my car back in drive.
When I got home, I headed straight for my phone to see if Michael had said anything.
He had not.
He had not called me back either, and by this point, I was just convinced that he had changed his mind about us. Perhaps he had decided that he no longer wanted anything to do with me, perhaps he had had something come up that prevented him from giving me attention, or perhaps he had just been so busy today that he hadn’t had the time to say anything. I really wanted to believe it was the latter—
My phone rang. It was...
Devon?
I tensed a bit as I anticipated her calling me out for having stalked her at the hospital. I could all too easily imagine the direction of that conversation as she justifiably accused me of stalking her, her telling me to never go near her again outside of the hospital.
But then again, that was just ridiculous. My mind was playing games with me. Devon might have been upset about last night, but that was a far, far cry from not wanting to be my friend. I told myself to just calm down and answer.
“Hey,” I said in an upbeat tone.
“Hey, what are you up to?” Devon said, sounding normal.
“Normal” was the best adjective I could have hoped for. Upbeat would have sounded fake. Angry would have sounded accusatory. Concerned would have provoked anxiety.
“Nothing, just enjoying my day off,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Do you think you have the time to, uh, help me with something?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Oh, um, can you just come to my house? I’ll explain it there.”
My gut began flaring up. Something wasn’t right.
But “something wasn’t right” with Devon was a far, far cry from other worst-case scenarios, such as they might have been with Michael. This suggested that Devon wanted to tell me something had happened at the hospital in person, or perhaps something had happened with the Fallen Saints. I didn’t think it could be that bad.
“Sure, do you need me to come now?”
“That would be ideal.”
“Okay,” I said.
I let the silence linger for a couple of seconds, hoping that it might evoke something out of Devon. But she didn’t say anything.
A sound did come, though—the sound of an incoming call.
It was Michael.
“Hey—”
“So, you’re on your way now, right?” Devon asked.
Her voice had suddenly become a lot more concerned. Now I was sure she didn’t want me there, but she nevertheless needed me there for something.
“Yeah, I’ll be there within fifteen,” I said.
