Page 33 of The Fix

A string of cursing is what I receive and just when I’m about to open my mouth to start yelling into the phone for some kind of answer, Leo’s words stop me dead.

“Get him a drink.”

“No, Jesus.” I scoff and shake my head. “That’s the whole reason we’re in this predicament.”

“Anna, trust me.” The somber tone makes me suck in a breath, my eyes going to the ceiling. “It’s the only thing that’ll calm him down. I’ve tried everything else.”

“And what happens when he comes down from this?”

“He’ll be fine. He just needs to chill out.”

“I seriously think that’s the worst answer.” I’m shaking my head, my knees drawn up to my chest when some of Toby’s words start to register through the chaos.

Where is he?

I never got to show him.

Where is he. Where is he.

With my heart in my throat, I push back up to my knees. “Leo, I’m leaving you on the line. If I scream, send the authorities.”

“Wait, Anna—”

Setting the device on the cushion, I call, “Jeffers,” calmly into the room as I raise my hands and step around the couch. “It’s just me.”

“Where did he go?” Toby wheels around the middle of the room, a bottle sloshing in one hand. “I gotta find him.”

“Find who?” I ask and step closer as his unfocused eyes trail right over me like I’m not even here. “Tell me and we’ll find him.”

“We can’t find him,” Toby heaves out on bated breath. “He’s not here.”

Pulling in a deep, steadying lungful, I breathe out and step closer. So close that I could reach out and steal the bottle from his grip. “Then where is he? Tell me who we’re looking for and I’ll help you find him.”

“You can’t,” he mutters, his blackened sight landing on me and piercing me with its intensity. “Can’t.”

“Sure we can,” I say softly on a forced smile. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

“No,” he snarls, his face hardening.

I wet my lips and shake my head. “Help me out, Jeffers. So I can help you. Please.”

His throat bobs with a swallow, his stance unsteady as his eyes slowly meet mine, as if he’s truly seeing me for the first time. The redness in his gaze grows, and it’s like I watch the weight of the world settle onto his sagging shoulders. “Can’t find him because he’s dead.”

I swear I feel the color drain from my face as my heart plummets into my stomach.

I know this has to be a hallucination that Toby is experiencing, but his conviction just feels so damn real that tears are tickling the backs of my own eyes.

“I know, Toby,” I mutter even though I don’t know and step up to the man with pain etched into his features. “And I’m so sorry.” Instincts have me wrapping my arms around his bare torso, his familiar citrusy scent filtering through the alcohol sweating out of his pores. “I’m so sorry he’s not here.”

He’s like a radiator when I press my cheek into his pec and run through all the information I’ve ever been told or read about Tobias Jeffers in the official files. Even some of the tabloids flash through my mind, and yet, I come up with nothing that would match his reaction.

Cinching my arms around his waist, I almost startle when his hands land on my shoulders and grip me, holding me close.

Like he might float away if he doesn’t.

I want to ask questions, to understand better, but they get stuck behind the lump of emotion in my throat as I feel his tears dampen my hair.

“Our first show, As Above’s—” Toby sucks back a sniff and runs his hands down my spine as if I’m the one in need of comfort, reassurance. “He was supposed to be there. I looked all night.” His words are clearer now, but full of so much pain that my stomach twists. “Swear I still remember every face from the crowd that night.” His bearded chin rests on the top of my head, and I blink back the tears that threaten when I feel his thick swallow against my temple. “I didn’t know.”

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