Page 52 of The Voices are Back

“It’s okay,” she sounded better at least. “I’ll just eat these fries.”

I gathered my keys up again.

“Lock the doors. Set the alarm. If you need anything, text me,” I ordered.

She blinked at me in confusion, then anger started to leach into those eyes. Anger that I’d never seen directed at me before.

“Are you going to unblock me?” she asked.

I felt my stomach sink all over again. “You’ve never been blocked, honey.”

She snorted. “Then why can’t I call you? Why has every single text and call I’ve made bounced back, or been said ‘undeliverable’ since you left?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it.

I didn’t have a clue.

But I knew one thing for sure, I sure the fuck would never have blocked her. I’ve been secretly hoping since she left that she’d tell me she wanted to come back home. To me.

“Let me have your phone,” I ordered.

She gave it to me.

I dialed in my number, then pressed Call.

It didn’t go through.

My phone didn’t ring, and hers made a clicking sound then went back to the phone screen.

I scowled hard.

I walked to the kitchen drawer, pulled out a burner phone that I used when needed, and dialed my number again. It rang on both ends.

I frowned harder.

“I didn’t block you,” I promised her as I handed her the burner phone. “I swear to you, I did not block you. I’d never block you.”

She looked down at the phone I handed her, and I knew right then and there I had more to fix than I’d originally thought. Things that I needed to fix that I hadn’t realized were broken.

“I’m going to get Bowie, then we’re going to figure this out,” I promised her.

She halfheartedly smiled as if she didn’t believe that I wouldn’t block her, and I realized that I might’ve killed something inside of her. I might’ve inadvertently, by never getting her calls, broken something irreparable that I could never fix.

“I’ll be back,” I promised, feeling anger tightening in my gut.

What would cause that to happen?

I knew one person that could find out, though.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of her head, not quite intimate, but definitely not chaste, either.

With one hard look down at her face, I said, “I’ll be back.”

And that was a promise and a warning.

We would talk about what was going on. We’d also be figuring out what had happened.

Because no way would I ever take away even a second of talking to her. Text message. Phone call. Or in real life.

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