Page 131 of My Lovely Tragedy
That must be where they record their music. I Google the name, and sure enough, that’s the marked producers on their albums.
The realization gives me pause. I lean back against the wall, eyes closed against the glare of my screen as I force myself to breathe. To pull in one breath. Push it out. Do it all over again.
For how much longer?the voice in my head taunts me, overwhelmed with the immensity of such a menial task. But I relate to the position of panic and bury it just enough to close out of the browser and the tracking app with a quick click of a few keys and an internal vow.
That I will not look again.
That I will give mycorvusthe freedom I promised.
I know now, and I am sure, and it’s time to let him go.
Only I did not expect this… festering. It simmers at the base of my spine. Unfamiliar and sickening.
Maybe…
I shove fingers beneath my lens to dig into my eye sockets, purposely drawing more pain to that focal point. One that’s easier to focus on because I know it. I have felt it for years now.
A quick glance at the clock tells me it is far too late for a phone call, but at this stage, who cares of manners? Certainly not Charlie, at any rate.
I click on his name through the icon and listen as the tone rings out, over and over in the same feigned cheery notes. It cuts off, and the screen swipes over as Charlie appears in front of me, still clad impeccably in his bespoke suit, hair perfectly coiffed, facial hair trimmed and lined neatly.
Nothing like my frighteningly disheveled appearance.
I avoid looking at my blurred face as Charlie says my name with a breath of relief. “Tobias.” His higher tone crackles through the speaker, sending a fresh wave of pain thundering through my ears and into my skull.
If he thinks anything of the state of my appearance, he doesn’t say it. Though, I think he should. Nothing has stopped him before.
“Charlie.” I nod. No feelings. “I wanted to ask a favor of you, if you aren’t too busy?” And while his face remains nearly perfectly stoic, I catch the smallest furrow to his brows.
“Never for you. What’s going on?” There is much more behind that seemingly simple question. More than I could ever give him.
“Could you come meet me at my cabin?” I ask as I drag my finger along the sharp edge of my laptop. His eyes rove over my face through the screen.
“You look like shit. Can’t drive?” he says after a moment—softer.
A flicker of worry nearly causes a downward twitch of my lips. “I do. And no.” I glance down at my trembling hands. “Not anymore.”
Charlie watches me, seeing more than I intended to give. “What happened, Tobias?”
I swallow. Roll my shoulders. “Nothing specific.” A lie. “I need to change a few things and get it all refiled as soon as possible.”
He hikes a brow as he leans back in his chair with a minute squeak before surging back just as quickly. “Why? What’s changed since December?”Since that day,he wants to say but doesn’t. And I know even more questions rest, poised on the tip of his tongue.
Where have you been? What happened to you? Why did you disappear… again?
My eyes close against the onslaught—verbal and otherwise.
Brooklyn, larger than life itself, fills my mind’s eye. And it hurts—more than anything ever has before—and I hate myself for loving the pain I am left with.
“Everything.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
BROOKLYN
I don’t remembera second of the drive. Not a moment before now, where I’m parked alongside the road, hazards flashing with Tobias’semptyphone in my hand. There’snothingon it. Not a goddamn thing—like he fucking reset it before giving it to me.
Because he didn’t want me to come back. Or to be able to.
