Page 49 of Lips of an Angel

Memories sprang back to me so quickly that my head spun. Billie screaming at me, Angel finding us arguing on the street. Billie pushing me, and then…

Then, a literalangelappeared.

My best friend sniffled and lifted his head, wiping his eyes so he could see what was in my hand. His eyes went from the feather to me, and he swallowed hard.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?” I asked.

He shook his head and followed it up with sign. “Not here.”

The reason why soon appeared in the doorway.

“Good to see you awake, big guy,” Eli said, stepping into the room and offering Angel one of the coffee cups in his hands. I didn’t miss the way he looked between the two of us before his face hardened. “Sweetheart, maybe you should give him some space. He’s healing,” he quickly added.

Angel shook his head and settled into his spot with an arm over my stomach. I caught something familiar in the look that flashed across Eli’s eyes, something I’d seen more recently—in Billie’s.

Ah, Eli was jealous. That was new. He’d never been anything but supportive of how close Angel and I were, so what had changed? Had Angel told him about… us?

Either way, I wasn’t Angel’s fiancé, so I wiggled in Angel’s grip. “He’s right. I love you, but your arm weighs a ton and it’s digging into my bladder.”

Reluctantly, Angel got up and returned to his own chair, but he didn’t do it without a grumble.

“Do you need anything?” Eli offered.

“Not before one of you tells me what the hell happened. My memories are a bit fuzzy.” It was only a partial lie. Everything before seeing Angel in all his glory was a blur.

He and Eli shared a look, and Eli explained what happened. “The security camera on the outside of the bar caught everything. When Billie shoved you, you lost your balance and fell. You got lucky, the driver of the truck had what was probably the most impressive set of reflexes anyone has ever seen. Your ankle is sprained. You have some mild road rash on your arm, but keep it clean and it’ll heal. Since you lost consciousness, they want to make sure you don’t have a concussion, but it seems to me that you’re a bit of a miracle case.”

I scoffed. If he only knew. “Billie?” I asked, ignoring the anger that seemed to radiate off of Angel at the mere mention of their name.

“Took off before the medics showed up,” Eli said.

Of course they did. Maybe it would be the last I’d see of them, maybe not, but I hoped they’d learn a lesson from the near-severity of their actions. Maybe even heal. It was probably a bit much to ask for, but in a world where angels were real, who knew anything?

I looked at my best friend sitting sullenly in the chair across from me. He was moving to Seattle. How was I going to find time to figure out what the hell was going on with him.

After a while, since I’d come around on my own, they decided that I was fine to go home. I was discharged, and Eli dropped Angel and I at our apartment before heading back to the hospital for his shift.

Desperate for a shower, I went straight to the bathroom, only for Angel to crack the door and weasel his way into the space before I could slam it shut again.

“Do you mind?” I laughed.

Silently, he signed, “Sit,” and pointed at the closed toilet seat.

What the hell did I have left to lose?

I sat down, and Angel turned on the water in the shower before returning to me. He felt under the sleeve of my shirt and slowly peeled the dressing away to reveal the second nastiest case of road rash I’d ever had. His breath hitched, and I looked up to see tears in his eyes. His fingers brushed over the abrasion, and I hissed at the sting. Then, it slowly started to fade. It itched fiercely as, before my eyes, the skin stitched itself back together, my tattoos re-etching themselves.

I stammered in shock, trying to find my words, when Angel sank to his knees. He grabbed my ankle and rubbed his hands over the denim. I winced at the pain, then it was gone.

Kneeling on the ground, Angel peered up at me through his lashes. “Does anything else hurt?” he asked, signing with one hand, his other still on my leg.

I was too stunned to speak. The only answer I could offer him was a shake of my head.

“Shower,” he told me, rising to his feet. “Take as long as you need. Then we’ll talk.”

The door shut, and I was alone.

As long as I needed? What the hell did that mean? I’d already waited over twelve hours for answers about what happened out there in the street.

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