Page 11 of Lips of an Angel

For the next six months, we lived at the hospital. I was discharged after a few days, but I refused to leave.

Not without Angel.

His miraculous recovery baffled medical professionals. Doctors from around the country flocked to visit him. His name was mentioned in medical journals. Students studied him at the surrounding universities.

There was only one problem: He couldn’t speak. At first, the hospital staff chalked it up to hearing loss. Even I had struggled with that for days following the accident. After months of tests and therapy, though, his doctors determined that Angel had something they called selective mutism—as if Angel had a fucking choice in the matter. His vocal cords were intact, undamaged. He still made gentle noises to get our attention… and still woke up screaming in the rare moments he was able to sleep. His hearing, though diminished from the accident, was fine. He heard us when we spoke to him, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—verbally respond.

Neither of us got in a car for a long time after that. Six people died that night, including the couple in the minivan we hit.

We were stupid teenagers, but that night our lives changed forever.

“Angel,” I whispered, pulling my best friend’s attention back to me. “You’re safe. You’re here with me. Austin made that decision. Not us.”

Angel nodded, but he still wasn’t all there. His vacant eyes stared into the distance. I wasn’t sure what else to say. After fifteen years, the nightmares were still a nightly occurrence.

Setting the empty glass aside, I was wondering what more I could do for him when I heard the front door open. Footsteps moved down the hallway and past my bedroom door, stopping at Angel’s before doubling back.

“In here, Eli,” I called.

“Are you decent?”

I looked down. I used to live with the guy; he’d seen me in less clothing before. “Just come in.”

My door crept open, and Angel’s boyfriend poked his head inside. He looked at me, then down to Angel, who was still staring off in the direction of my closet. “Another one?” he asked.

I nodded, and he stepped into the room and softly closed the door behind him, letting his backpack fall to the floor. He ran a hand through his chestnut waves and crossed the room.

He gestured to the empty spot on my bed. “You mind?”

“Not at all.”

I moved to stand, but Angel stopped me with a grip on my wrist that was so hard it was painful.

“I’ll still be here,” I said softly, wincing and prying his fingers away. Eli put his hand on Angel’s back, but he didn’t register the touch. “Eli’s here too.”

Eli leaned over and whispered in Angel’s ear. Angel snapped out of his trance, blinking and seeming to come back to the room. “Hi,” he signed sheepishly, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Elijah smiled. “Hi yourself.” Angel offered a cheek, and he leaned down to kiss him. “My patient’s labs came back funny, so they pushed the surgery.”

Letting Elijah take over, I went to the closet and started to dress. As I worked myself into a pair of dark-wash distressed jeans branded with a Guess logo on the button, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I glanced at it; there was something downstairs at the bar that required our attention, but Angel was in no condition to handle it.

“Do you want me to take you into your room?” Elijah was asking him.

“He can stay here,” I offered, pulling a T-shirt on. “I need to handle something downstairs.”

Angel started to rise, but Elijah wrapped an arm around him to hold him in place and I held my hand up, and he reluctantly sat back down.

I ignored the glare he threw my way. “You’re staying. You need some sleep.” I turned to Elijah, not knowing whether he intended to stay.

“I’ve got him,” he assured me with a gentle smile.

“I won’t be long.”

Downstairs, Jack was stacking glasses behind the bar. We weren’t open yet, but someone hovered in the middle of the room. A tall, dark-haired man in a tailored suit spun in a slow circle, taking in the decorations on the walls.

Suspicious, I stepped behind the bar. “What’s going on, Jack?” Had I forgotten about an inspection or something?

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