Standing surrounded by people, yet no one will give me the time.
I’ve tried to speak for hours. I feel dead inside.
Why does no one hear my story?
People speak of angels. I have yet to see one.
I need truth in my story.
Maybe I will become one.
Chapter eleven
Remy
I left him alone for less than ten minutes.
I snatch my phone back and shove him toward the truck.
“We need to talk,” I tell him. “Not here. Something isn’t right.”
He’s got that dazed look again, the one he gets when he’s chasing his muse. But this time it’s different. Deeper. Like he’s slipped a gear and can’t find it again.
I herd him out of the cemetery and into the truck. He doesn’t resist.
That worries me more than if he had.
I’m driving without a destination. I know he needs to eat, and damn it, I want a drink, but I also need privacy.
I call one of my buddies who owns a restaurant. He owes me. Ten minutes later, I’ve got a private room.
Erik still hasn’t said a word. His fingers twitch in his lap. He pulls his phone from his back pocket and plugs it into the charger.
It’s the first thing I’ve seen him do in weeks that resembles self-care.
I know better.
He didn’t charge it because he was aware. He charged it because he needs the voice app.
I pull up to the steakhouse. He’s still staring at the charge on his phone. Two percent.
I open the console and grab a charging cube.
“Take the charger,” I tell him. “We’ll keep it plugged in while we eat, okay? Until then, you can use mine.”
That finally breaks through. He nods.
The hostess takes us straight back. Devon must’ve given her a heads-up that we were coming.
When the server comes in I order two old fashions and waters along with our dinner order. I get us both steaks with loaded baked potatoes. Erik is ignoring her.
When she leaves I punch him in the arm.
He flicks a glance at me.
“Why were you singing about an angel?” I ask the question I’ve been biting back since he took my phone.
He blinks, focuses. We're talking about his obsession so he will play along.
