Page 13 of Angel
Then I add more because Carrie was right. Words won’t fix this. But silence will kill it.
I love you. I’m not mad. I’m scared. Please just tell me you’re safe.
I hit send before I can overthink it. Then I sit at the kitchen table and wait. Heart pounding like it’s the first time I ever rode into a fight I couldn’t see my way out of. Minutes pass. Ten. Twenty. My knee bounces under the table. I open and close my hands, check the door, and check my phone.
And then… finally… three dots appear. My breath catches. The message comes through:
I’m safe. I just needed air.
I exhale so hard my chest aches. Then I type back, hands shaking.
Where are you? I’ll come get you.
No dots. No reply. The silence stretches. My jaw clenches. I force myself to breathe. Respect her space, I remind myself. But that vow I made inside my bones doesn’t bend. I won’t let her do this alone anymore. Even if it scares her. Even if it scares me.
Because loving her means stepping into the fire with her. Not watching from the edge while she burns. I grab my keys and stand. If she won’t tell me where she is, I’ll start where I can.
Her sister.
Carrie.
Pandora.
The places Stevie runs when she doesn’t want to be found. Because tonight, I’m done being afraid of saying the wrong thing. Tonight, I’m choosing her….out loud. And if I have to ride through hell to bring her back to herself… Then Hell better get out of my way.
Chapter Five
Stevie
My sister’s spare room still smells like lavender and old books. It’s meant to be comforting. Soft yellow walls. A bed that creaks when you sit on it. A faded quilt folded neatly at the end, like no one’s ever really disturbed it. A framed photo of us as kids on the dresser, gap-toothed and sunburnt and so damn sure the world was going to be kind to us.
I sit on the edge of the mattress with my coat still on, keys clenched in my fist and feel like a fraud for thinking this would help. I told Angel I needed space. What I really needed was somewhere I could fall apart without watching it break him, too. The second the door closed behind me, the control slipped.
Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just enough for the cracks to start spreading.
I drop my keys on the dresser and stare at my hands. They’re shaking; they have been since I left the house. Since I sawthe look on Angel’s face when I walked out, hurt, fear, and something that looked dangerously close to giving up.
That look is going to haunt me. I press my palms into my thighs, grounding myself.
You’re fine.
You’re doing the right thing.
You just need a reset.
That’s what I tell myself. It doesn’t stick.
The room feels smaller than it used to. Like I’ve grown into someone who doesn’t quite fit in spaces that once held me easily. The bed dips slightly when I shift. The fan hums overhead. The house makes quiet settling noises like it’s breathing. I feel like I can’t.
My sister knocks once before pushing the door open. She doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t look at me like I’m something fragile that might shatter if she breathes wrong. She just walks in with two mugs of tea and sets one beside me like she knows I won’t move to get it myself.
“You hungry?” she asks gently.
I shake my head.
“You tired?”
I shrug.
