Page 216 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“Briar?”

Silence.

“Briar?” I look at my phone to confirm we’re still on the line. “Can you hear me?”

“Hi, Rurik.”

I stiffen. Her voice. It's… Shit, it reminds me of that day I caught her zoning out in the park. When she was having full-on conversations with me, it was like she wasn't actually there.

“Baby, you okay?”

“Of course.”

“You sound kinda off. Are you sick?” I look at my watch. I’m sure I can catch an evening flight and be at home with her by midnight.

“I’m fine.”

Silence.

A sense of unease pricks at the back of my neck once more as discomfort washes over me.

“Briar?”

“Yes?”

“Can you open the door for me?”

I’m not at the door. I just need to know what she’ll say. I need to see if she’s even aware of her surroundings. I need her to be like, ‘I thought you’re in Florida?’ and call me out on my bullshit—

“Of course.”

I don’t hear anything in the background.

I swallow hard. “Did you open the door?”

“Yes. Come to bed with me.”

Fuck.

“I have to go, okay? Can I call you back later?” I really don’t want to hang up. But she’s not in the right mental state right now to tell me what’s happening.

“Of course.” She hangs up first.

I stare at my phone. She never hangs up first.

I immediately call the people who may be able to help.

“Rurik?” Natalie answers in surprise. And then her tone starts to grow panicky. “Hey! Are you okay? Where are you? Did something happen?”

What the fuck?

“Natalie, I’m fine,” I assure her. “I’m still in Florida with my mum and her husband.”

She clears her throat. “Your stepdad is there?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, almost confused. “Why? Never mind, I don’t care. I called for a reason. What happened to Briar?”

Natalie sucks in a sharp breath. “What do you mean?”

---