could love me so much. Hell, not even my own mother could manage. “You’re something else, you know that?” I laughed, kissing her again.
A thoughtful sound vibrated against my lips before she asked, “So, then what am I?”
“You’ll laugh if I said it.”
“I promise I won’t.”
Sighing, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and lifted a shoulder. “Maybe you’re my angel.”
I expected a giggle, or even hysterical laughter, but all I heard was that noise again. Thoughtful and contemplative. “Sent to Earth to save you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“You were the better twin to save Jake, and I was the better twin to save you.”
“Maybe we’re the surviving twins,” I found myself saying, and my voice caught in my throat, unable to believe I’d say the words aloud, “to save each other.”
Audrey nodded. “That sounds more likely to me. But that’d make you an angel, too.”
I laughed. “Well, now we know it’s all bullshit.”
“Not necessarily.” She laid her head down, finding a comfortable place for her forehead against my temple. Her yawn was infectious and I wrapped my arm around her, accepting the luring hand of sleep. “Remember, Lucifer was an angel, too.”
Snorting as my eyes drifted shut, I muttered, “So, I’m the devil now.”
“Maybe, Kiefer,” she said, using the nickname I had once found lame but now loved, “but whatever you are, you’re mine.”
“Yeah, I am,” I agreed, sighing contentedly and wrapping my other arm around her shoulders, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“ARE YOU SURE you don’t want me to come with you?” Audrey worried as she got ready for work. She buttoned a white cardigan over her teal camisole and added, “I mean, it’s just one day. It’d be okay for me to call out sick.”
I shook my head, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “Stop, I’m fine.” And, I actually meant it, too. After sleeping well for a solid seven hours, I now felt prepared to face what awaited me at home. But Audrey clearly wasn’t convinced, turning her bright blue eyes on me while she chewed her bottom lip with disdain.
“I just feel really bad making you go alone.”
“Don’t feel bad,” I assured her, unraveling my arms and stepping forward to kiss her forehead. “Go to work. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Guilt washed away the worry. “Blake, if you really want to go to the hospital, then—”
“No,” I stopped her, pressing my lips again to her forehead. “I’ll go tomorrow. You were right; I need one freakin’ day outside of that room.”
So, after Audrey left for work, I got into my car and headed across town through a path of dead leaves and speckles of snow leftover from the night before. Pulling into my driveway felt like a slice of déjà vu from a past life, and I swallowed at the worry that maybe I couldn’t do this after all.
The door opened with a groan and the floors welcomed me with untimely whispers. I swept my gaze over the living room, taking in Jake’s Legos and stacks of puzzles and movies, and the exhale that came from my mouth felt like my last. It left me empty and starved for air in that shell of a room, and I hurried to my bedroom to find my breath.
Behind the closed door, I set to work, grabbing clothes from my closet and stuffing them into a duffel bag I hadn’t used since college but had kept anyway. I wasn’t sure how long to pack for, and how long I’d be at Audrey’s place, so I mindlessly shoved in as many clothes as the bag would hold. Then, I scurried around the room, grabbing miscellaneous things I’d been missing over the week, when my hand brushed against the information pamphlet I’d been given at Shady Acres, still standing on my drafting table. It stopped me in my tracks and I stared at the smiling faces of their residents as I remembered my parents’ plans.
Whether he woke up or not, Jake would be leaving anyway.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, snatching the smooth piece of paper from the table. My eyes bore through the crisp letters and vibrant colors as I repeated, louder this time, “Son of a fucking bitch.”
It came on quick, the tornado that began in my gut and moved its way to my heart. A swirling frenzy of rage and despair, unleashed through my hands as I crumpled the pamphlet and chucked it across the room. It was too light to go far, and