Page 8 of Lips of an Angel

More often than not, internal decapitations were fatal. When someonedidsurvive one, the recovery was extensive, often lasting years.

Of course, I was different.

The moment I’d woken from my “coma,” the angel who’d turned me was there, to greet me and explain how I was alive when everything—everyone—said I should be dead. Needless to say, I didn’t take it well. I already lived in a town where being shy and quiet was seen as weakness. I didn’t needanything else to set me apart from the rest of my peers.

I spiraled. Most nights I lay awake wishing that paramedic had left me to die. Surely that would’ve been easier than trying to figure out how to tell my friends and family that I wasn’t human anymore.

Raleigh was my light in that darkness. He stayed by my side for the entire six months, and then after. Clearing six feet before he turned fifteen, he looked old enough that no one questioned why he was skulking around the halls of the ICU in the odd hours of the morning.

Raleigh somehow got his hands on anything and everything I wanted. Nine times out of ten I didn’t even need to ask for it. I didn’t remember telling him about my favorite things... somehow, he just knew. I’d wake up to a pack of my favorite saltwater taffy tucked under my arm, or a cold Dr. Pepper sitting on the bed tray. He didn’t even care if he got caught. He said the way my eyes lit up when I found them was worth the risk.

When I was finally discharged, Raleigh practically moved into my house. Although I didn’t know it at the time, his parents started having problems. He began escaping more and more, and the quiet that always seemed to surround me made for a perfect refuge from the noisy fighting at home. As I was mostly bed-bound, he could always count on me being available.

On a sticky Georgia night, nearly a year after the accident, I lay in bed wide awake. Sleep had become a rarity, with memories of the car spinning out of control haunting my dreams. Occasionally exhaustion would win and I’d surrender to fitful sleep. That night wasn’t one of those times.

The TV was playing a rerun of a nineties sitcom. I’d seen all of them a hundred times, but something about them brought me comfort. The bedroom door crept open. Assuming it was my parents checking on me for the millionth time, I feigned sleep. I must’ve gotten pretty good at it because they never questioned me. Raleigh was different. When I didn’t hear the door swing shut again, I rolled over to find a tall, dark shape looming in the doorway. That would cause most people to panic. Not me, though. I’d grown accustomed to that shape lingering in my house, in my bed—in my heart.

I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing there, but no words came out. My condition didn’t have a name yet, but being unable to speak was beyond frustrating—for me and everyone around me. Everyone except Raleigh. The boy could talk enough for both of us, and always knew what I needed before I did. Over the years, my schoolboy crush had evolved into something more, but Raleigh hadn’t shown any signs that he felt the same way about me. My powers couldn’t sense any attraction to me, either, though he was bursting with affection. So I buried my feelings. No matter the pain, I couldn’t risk losing him if it didn’t go well.

From my bedroom door he smiled, the new stud in his lip catching the light of the TV. I pushed myself up, but he held out a hand to stop me. “Don’t move.”

Confused, I lay back down. My confusion only deepened when he began to strip. My heart raced, and I willed away the stirring behind my pajama pants. Getting hard with Raleigh in my bed was the last thing I needed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he explained, nudging me closer to the wall as he crawled into my bed. “I think I’ve gotten too used to being here with you. Your bed’s comfier. Your house is quieter.”

We lay with his front to my back. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept in my bed, but itwasthe first time he wrapped a strong arm around my waist and held me close. I stiffened, but he held me tighter. “Relax, Angel,” he murmured, already falling asleep, “I’ve got you. I always do.”

I snatched my phone from beneath my pillow—my only mode of communication at the time. I knew a few signs, the important ones, but I was still learning.

I don’t want to keep you awake.

Raleigh lifted his head to read the message, then collapsed onto the pillow again. “I’m not going to make you sleep. Wake me up if you need me.”

He said nothing else, and his breathing slowly evened out. I counted each breath, felt every inhale and exhale against my neck. My eyelids grew heavy. Raleigh’s hand was a grounding weight against my bare stomach. I relaxed in his arms, just to see what it was like. He tightened his grip and for the first time in a long time I felt…safe. I let my eyes shut and drifted off to sleep.

There, on that sticky autumn night, I realized what love truly was.

* * *

I thrashedaround in bed for another half hour before I gave up. Kicking the blanket off, I tiptoed down the hall. I was sure that he’d fallen asleep, but when I opened his bedroom door, Raleigh looked up from his phone.

The room was dark except for the light from his screen. Blackout curtains were the first thing Raleigh invested in when we moved in. Much to my dismay, he couldn’t sleep unless the room was pitch black.

“Have you been to sleep?” he asked groggily.

I shook my head and gave him the sign for nightmares, unsure whether the bathroom light provided enough illumination for him to see my signs.

On the bed, Raleigh rolled onto his back and shifted over, giving me the side that was furthest from the door. As I crossed the room, he flicked on the lamp on his nightstand. It was so dull that it could barely be called a light, but it shed enough for Raleigh to see when I was talking to him. “Where’s Eli?”

“Work,” I signed. I crawled under the blanket, choosing to ignore the fact that Raleigh was wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

“Again?”

I nodded.

“How many nights in a row has he worked, now?”

“Ten.” I took a deep breath. Elijah was in the third year of his residency, so nights together were hard to come by.

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