Chapter 15
Phillip movedaround the kitchen like he still owned it, pulling open cabinets, digging an old kettle out from below the island, boiling water for tea. I sat at the counter, watching him and trying to digest all that had happened. My head was reasonably clear now, but I was confused and more than a little down in the dumps. The moment we were safely in the confines of my truck, I’d wanted to immediately head back to Jekyll; do not pass go, do not collect $200. But Phillip had insisted we should get at least one night of rest before making such a long trip. I supposed I saw the logic of that, but honestly, I was just ready to be free of Boston all together. I wouldn’t feel safe or like myself again until I was back home. It all felt so heavy. Phillip poured me a cup of tea, dumped in a few spoons of sugar, and passed it to me, his face full of loving concern.
“Drink that,” he said. “It”ll make you feel better. My grandmother always used to say that nothing is more comforting than a cup of tea.”
I smiled wryly. “It”s so weird to hear something so poignant and vanilla coming from a junkie rock star who used to snort coke off of girls’ butt cheeks.”
His color rose and he managed to look offended. “That was one time,” he said, turning to rinse off the sugar spoon. “And I had a cup of tea afterward, as I recall.”
I snorted. The tea was hot, strong and sweet, and I had to grudgingly admit that I did feel better.
“I”m making you a meal,” he said, rummaging through the pantry. “And I don”t want to hear any arguments out of you. You need to eat; you can”t keep living off Swedish Fish and crackers. You need your strength. What can I make you that”s vegan?”
“I don”t know,” I said unhelpfully. I didn”t feel hungry at all.
“Spaghetti?”
“Ok,” I said dutifully. “Just leave off the parmesan cheese.”
He nodded and set to work. I noticed as I drank down the hot tea that he was pulling out cans of crushed tomatoes and spices from the top of the pantry. He pulled a pot down from the island and a knife from the cupboard. He was going to make the sauce from scratch.
“Don”t go to any trouble-”
“Shut up. I want to,” he said, then winked at me, heading toward the kitchen door. “We used to keep fresh basil out back when I lived here.” He disappeared for a moment, then came back inside holding a bright green bunch in his large hands.
“Is there anything you can”t do?” I asked, watching him with pleasure.
“Yeah,” he said. “I can”t work a cell phone.”
I giggled. “That”s true. So,” I said, looking around the room, which was total 80s kitsch, complete with blue-ribboned geese and gingham curtains to match, “this is where you grew up.”
“Yeah. This is my house,” he said, leaning up against the counter. “Or was. Now it”s Jason”s.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked. I hadn”t met Jason yet, but I knew he was here somewhere. Phillip had spoken to him quickly and furtively before ushering me into the house. So far it appeared that we”d been lucky and had lost the cops. We had a clear view of the driveway from the kitchen window, and Phillip had been periodically checking around back. What Jason felt about all of this, I didn”t know and didn”t want to ask, though secretly I was dying to meet him.
“Just that we were in a little trouble and I”d explain more later. He didn”t really ask,” Phillip answered, running a hand through his long, dark hair. “He”s not as bad today as he was when I saw him before. I think the shock of seeing me has him going straight. But still – he”s not at all like you remember from our glory days.”
“And here I was thinking you”d talk shit about me behind my back.”
Phillip and I both turned to the doorway. The man standing, leaning against the door frame, had skin that was pale and a little sickly, but the smile on his face was wide and real. He had shaggy mid-length brown hair that was slightly curly, cool, light-blue eyes that were pretty and almond shaped, if somewhat bloodshot, and a five o’clock shadow covering boyish, soft cheeks. Jason had always had a baby face. Doing the math in my head, I knew he had to be in his fifties, but he didn’t look a day over thirty-five. Short and wiry in stature, especially compared to Phillip, he still had a presence about him, an aura. I supposed it came from years of being on stage and in front of cameras. There was a warmth to him, something genuine. He exuded a purity, a calm, that was the perfect foil to Phillip”s dark, cynical, thunderous dynamic. I supposed Phillip’s memories of the guy must be quite different, but I thought he looked remarkably well, considering. His skin had a pallid sort of look to it, but I thought Phillip had exaggerated when he”d said this guy was on death”s door. I knew from all the photos I”d seen over the years that he had looked much worse before, especially in the few years after Phillip and Kim”s deaths. He looked much more robust than the last paparazzi photo I”d seen of him. Though we were inside, he was wearing a brown corduroy coat with wool trim around the collar – I hadn”t seen a coat like that since the mid-90s and I could easily imagine he”d had it at least that long.
He extended a hand. When I took it, it was warm. “Hi, Stormy,” he said, his voice deeper and clearer than I”d expected. “Don”t believe a word that tall piece of shit says.”
Phillip was both right and wrong. It was true that Jason was a shell of his old self, but I could still see the enigmatic guitar player shining through his eyes. I”d never known him in person, after all, so it was easy to imagine him as he once was, young and vibrant, standing beside Phillip on stage, backing Phillip”s baritone with his warbling, clear-throated alto. His laugh was musical, his pursed lips full of bemusement, and I liked him immediately.
“Hi, Jason,” I said, feeling the flush creep into my cheeks. Being around Phillip for days hadn”t done much to quell my status as a fangirl. I shook his hand eagerly. “I”m so happy to meet you. And please forgive me for saying this but – I”m a huge fan of yours. I have been for twenty years.”
“Thank you,” he said, appearing not even a bit embarrassed. Phillip”s eyes had shifted to the side – he still hated the fawning – but Jason clearly relished it.
“I know it”s weird to say-” I smiled, a big, cheesy grin that I couldn”t contain. “-but it”s just so – it”s like a life”s dream realized, you know? Not just to meet Phillip, but now to meet you too...well, I”m just so happy to see you both here, together. My favorite band. Wow.” I burst into giggles.
Phillip”s brows furrowed as he looked at me curiously, but he wasn”t angry. What”s come over you, his eyes seemed to say. All I could do was shrug and try to stop the giggles, which were still erupting from my mouth. It was weird, but somehow seeing Jason Langley, seeing him as real, standing there in front of me – made Phillip seem more real, too. I thought I might burst from the hilarious, wonderful, weirdness of it all. For the first time in days, I felt something other than terror.
“I appreciate it,” Jason said easily, still laughing, though he did look a bit weak. A sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead and he took a breath. “I haven”t met a fan in such a long time. I don”t get out much, and they stopped coming to look for me, so it”s nice to meet one again. Especially one Phillip is so fond of.” He gave his friend a sly smile.
“Don”t get any ideas, Jase,” Phillip said in a mock warning, stirring the sauce he”d thrown together. It was already smelling heavenly in the kitchen. “Those days of two guys, one groupie are over.”
I opened my mouth to protest hotly, but he burst out laughing. “Oh, pull your panties out of your ass, Stormy,” he said with a laugh. “I”m just kidding. We never did that.”
“Well, not more than once, anyway,” Jason said, also laughing, but he headed toward the living room and slumped down in a chair in the corner. I wondered if he was okay. “Join me in here, Stormy?”
Seeming to read my mind as always, Phillip murmured near my ear, “He”s alive. There”s still hope. Right?”
I nodded, meeting his deep green eyes, and made myself smile for his benefit. He returned it gratefully. I rose to join Jason. “Your cup of tea is sitting on the table, ice-cold,” Phillip said to me with a fake scold and made his way toward the kettle. “I”ll make us all another cup and I”ll join you guys in a minute.”
“Just what he needs,” Jason said from his chair, and I walked over to sit beside him. “Him and his fucking tea.”
“Yeah, this side of him came as a surprise,” I agreed. “Especially after years of watching YouTube videos of him upending whole bottles of wine onstage.”
“Oh, he loved his wine and liquor, imagine he still does,” Jason answered. “But any time of day you could catch him with that stupid mustard-yellow ceramic mug of his, filled with black tea, brewed strong enough to pour in your gas tank.” He leaned closer to me, smiling. “I have a demo that”s never seen the light of day in the basement. The song”s called ”Earl Grey.” Wanna hear it later?”
“Jesus fuck, yes.”
“Later, then. Don”t tell Phil,” he said, lowering his voice. “I told him I threw it away. At the end he yodels.”
“No.”
“Yes ma”am.”
I arched my neck toward the kitchen, where an apron-clad Phillip was pouring steaming hot water into mugs and tried to suppress a giggle. “I like it,” I admitted, letting the laugh escape. “The little quirks. Like the tea. The apron. It makes him seem so...normal and human. So ordinary.”
“I know,” he said, facing me, “all about the spell. I told Phillip I knew, the first day I saw him here, digging up the money. He tried to pretend, to make up some dumbass story. Then he tried to tell me I was just high, hallucinating him or some shit. Fucking asshole.” He shook his head. “But I know. And I wish you guys had come here first and talked to me. I could have saved you a lot of trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know Guthrie. I know his wife, too. Let”s just say that they”ve sniffed around here more than once. This obsession with Phillip didn”t start with you, Stormy. They”re bad news, man.”
“Don”t suppose you know how to get us out of it?”
He shook his head sadly. “I”m still wrapping my head around the fact that somebody did that fucking spell and it worked. I mean, all these years I”ve expected to see him walking through the door – I never had any doubt that he would, but-” He rubbed his hands over the stubble on his jaw. “Now that he”s here, I can”t seem to believe it. I remember when he put it in the liner notes. I thought it was fucking stupid. I told him so. He was shitfaced, we all were. ‘Gotta put something there,’ he said. ‘It”s either this or that photo of me with my ass cheek hanging out.’ As you can imagine, we agreed to the spell.”
“And the ass cheek picture still made it out to the public.” I laughed.
“Oh, of course it did. Who do you think leaked it? He always pretended that photoshoot embarrassed him, and he wouldn”t even talk about it interviews. He”d get all bent out of shape, claim the photographer was a hot chick who got him stoned and tricked him. But he”s full of shit. He made sure every one of those pictures got out. He always was vain. Meanwhile the rest of us in the band are looking like gargoyles. Me with that crusty ass eyebrow ring and my hair dyed neon red...”
“Oh, I remember that.” I was still laughing. “That eyebrow ring was as big as your actual eye!”
“I never took care of it, either. I was too blitzed.” He pointed at his eyebrow, and I could see a little scar streaked in one brow where there was an absence of hair. “You don”t want to know what it looked like when they took it out.”
“Please don”t make my girlfriend puke, you fuck.” Phillip entered the room, holding a tray with three steaming cups on it. The tray was gold, olive green and orange and had little mushrooms all over it – 70s style at its finest. He handed Jason and I both a mug of tea and took one for himself – it was mustard yellow, with a chip in the rim. Earl Grey. I looked at Jason and smiled.
“What?” Phillip asked, settling in a chair beside me, looking from Jason to me. “What is it?”
“I like your sweet little mug,” I said, leaning over to kiss his cheek, enjoying the double entendre. “Unless you snuck in a generous pour of bourbon, I”d have to say that your rock star card is officially revoked.”
“Fucking take it,” he said with a grin. “I was a shitty fucking rock star.”
“Fuck you, man,” Jason said, wiping at his brow. “You had it down to a science.”
Phillip raised an eyebrow but didn”t argue. He sipped his steaming tea.
Jason went on, “Look at you, you dick, still sitting there in those tight black pants and combat boots. Not even death could take it off you. You always lived the shit. You looked the part because you were the part. Didn”t even have to try. And all that tortured, ‘I don”t want to be famous’ stuff? That”s part of it, too. Every big-time rock star says that shit, and most of them probably really feel that way, except for when they don”t. You didn”t fool us back then, Phil, and you ain”t foolin” me now.”
“Says the guy with all our platinum records hanging all over the living room and his guitar in the corner with brand-new strings, tuned and ready to go,” Phillip countered. “And the stack of demos in the basement he said he destroyed back in ”92.”
“Yeah, so?” Jason mopped at his brow again. He really didn”t look well, but his eyes were sparkling and happy. He seemed to be enjoying their banter. “I never claimed I didn”t want it. You were the one always pretending you didn”t.”
“Well, if you hope to ever reclaim some of that glory, you’re going to have to get clean, dude. You aren’t gonna accomplish shit, strung out like you are,” Phillip thundered, his bemusement suddenly turning to anger. I cringed.
“Phillip!” I protested, horrified, but he didn’t look at me.
Jason had no answer, the smile disappearing from his face.
Phillip went on, seemingly oblivious to the sudden cold, dry air in the room. “Seems like losing two of your bandmates would have woken you up, but instead it just pushed you further down the rabbit hole.” He shook his head. “Didn”t you learn anything from our fuckups? Anything at all?”
“What the fuck, dude. We were just having a pleasant conversation and you come at me out of nowhere like-”
“It isn’t out of nowhere,” Phillip said, his voice softening somewhat. He glanced at me, unsure; he knew he’d gone too far. “It’s just…I don’t like seeing you like this. You’re so…changed.”
“Yeah, well, twenty-plus years have passed, and I got old. Imagine that. You know what? Just leave me alone, Phillip,” Jason said bitterly. All the spry happiness from before drained away from him as he looked at Phillip, his expression both sad and angry. His tea sat on the coffee table, untouched. “You weren”t here. You were dead. You don”t have a clue what it”s been like without you here, what we”ve had to fend off.” He fixed an eye on me and said with venom, “And don”t for a minute let him convince you it was a fucking accident. King Doom standing here trying to act like he”s a cautionary tale when we all know he checked out willingly-”
“Jase-” Phillip’s voice held a note of warning, and I looked at him with wide eyes.
“Death as art. C”mon. You left us. Fuck that, man. Fuck that.”
“Come on, Stormy.” Phillip was on his feet in seconds, pulling me with him. “Let”s leave him to it.”
I was still holding my hot cup of tea and its contents sloshed on the hardwood floors. “Phillip-” I protested, as he dragged me toward the kitchen where the sauce was in danger of boiling over on the stove. I wanted to tell him that he was overstepping, that he was being unfair, but the thunderous look on his face stopped me. This wasn’t about me, it wasn’t my fight. Better to leave them to it.
I followed him from the kitchen into a bedroom, which seemed small under his impressive height. The top of his head was near the ceiling; he ducked as he passed under the ceiling fan. The light in the room was dim and the furniture was coated with a sheen of dust.
I sat on the double bed, which was lumpy and creaked under my weight. It was covered with a scratchy, olive green duvet that I ran through my fingers absently as I watched him, surprised at how angry I was at him for attacking Jason. He paced through the room, reaching the end of it and back in two full strides, his fingers running through his hair. I could feel the stress coming off him in waves. I could almost see it, a deep reddish-brown aura all around his head.
“There”s bound to be some things to work out between the two of you,” I said slowly, trying to ease into the discussion.
His laugh was hollow as he stared out the window. “What he said back there was true, you know.” His voice was hoarse.
“I know,” I said. “I think I”ve always known.”
“How you must hate me.”
“Of course not,” I said. “But you were a total choad back there.”
The corner of his mouth turned up a little. “All that trouble to bring me back, only to find out that I threw my life away in the first place.”
“It doesn”t matter.”
“It does.”
“Not to me,” I said. “I don’t judge you. Believe me, I don’t. But Phillip – you should extend the same courtesy to Jason. He has problems, but who doesn”t? You don”t have to be so judge-”
“You don”t know him.” He sniffed.
“Neither do you,” I countered. “It”s been over twenty years. Maybe if you”d let the guy get a sentence out, you”d-”
“You have no idea what it”s like to see someone you love-”
“Don”t I?” I thundered. “Or did you forget that my ex-husband – the one whose nose you broke – is also a junkie? That our marriage ended because of it?”
He turned to face me. “I guess I did. Just for a minute.” He sighed. “I”m sorry. But the thing with Jason is diff-”
“God, you won’t let me talk, either!” I was almost yelling. “Are you always like this, just bulldozing over everyone’s words, and feelings?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, coming as close to sheepish as I imagine he ever got. His sharply defined cheeks were turning crimson. “So I’ve been told. Sorry.”
“What I was trying to say-” I continued, fixing him with pointed look, “-was that I know what it’s like to love someone with these issues. Tess was a drug addict, as you know. And you know what? So were both my parents,” I thundered, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Junkies and drunks, both. My childhood was littered with people like Jason, in and out of our house and our lives. That’s why I don’t talk to my parents anymore. Because it’s too fucking painful.”
He looked at me in surprise. “You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
He opened his mouth to retort, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I softened. “It’s not like we’ve had a lot of time. But Phillip…what”s really bothering you?” I asked him. He didn”t answer, only paced back and forth like a rat too big for its cage, covering the entire room in two strides, then turning around and doing it all over again. “Phillip,” I said. “Come sit down.”
He paced the room once more, then reluctantly sat down on the bed beside me. It gave a loud creak and he smiled, though it didn”t reach his eyes. “Can you believe I slept on this every night? I don”t know how I could walk the next day.”
“You were a kid,” I said. “Kids’ bodies are much more forgiving.” Truth was, his body was more than forgiving now, now that he was whatever he was, but I decided not to bring that up.
“It seems like a million years ago,” he said, looking over at the bookshelf in the corner, which was filled about 50/50 with comic books and vinyl. “God. To think I passed so much time here, just reading comics and listening to music. Practicing my bass, thinking about girls.”
“I can”t believe I”m in Phillip Deville”s boyhood bedroom,” I said. “I”ve got stars in my eyes.”
“Oh, stop,” he said, looking at me with a shy smile. “Surely the novelty has worn off now.”
“Not really,” I answered honestly.
“Even after I”ve gotten you in so much trouble?” he asked.
I leaned over and touched a finger to the tip of his nose. “All the trouble just makes you that much more handsome.”
He groaned.
“I can tell it”s hard for you, being here,” I said softly. “I”m sure Jason understands that, too.”
He swallowed. “You don”t know the half of it. It”d be hard anyway, just because, you know, the last time I was here, so were my parents and my siblings...” He trailed off. “And they”re all gone, and so is Barb, and so is Kim. So many ghosts here, so many memories. I never thought I”d see this place again, and all that”s hard enough, but then I find Jason here, and he”s not doing good. But at the same time, it”s so nice to see him, to have him around.”
I followed the direction of his gaze to a framed picture on the dresser. I recognized it from all the way across the room – a young man, with curly white-blonde hair and startling bright blue eyes. He was wearing a grungy, green plaid shirt open at the chest, revealing the key hanging from a black cord he”d always worn. He had his arm around a young Phillip, who was clad in his usual black t-shirt, but with shorter, spiked up hair. Both had on eyeliner. Both were laughing and holding cups of beer. Kim Reznik, who had no spells to bring him back, who was lost forever.
“You should talk to Jason,” I suggested. “Without judgement. You owe him that much.”
His face was solemn and pensive. It hurt my heart to see him looking so melancholy. “You”re right,” he said finally. “I guess I”m just afraid of what he”ll tell me. That I”ll be even more angry with him, or-” he bit his lip “-worse, myself.”
“But you”ll talk to him?”
“Yes,” he said, holding his fingers up in a scout”s honor gesture. “I will.”
I took his hand in mine and kissed it, then tucked it into my lap. “Did you ever have a girl up here?”
He laughed and turned his head. “I”m gonna have to plead the fifth on that.”
“Damn,” I said. “I was hoping I”d be the first.”
“But I haven”t had a girl up here since I was fifteen,” he admitted. “I moved out not long after that. And I can tell you, Stormy,” he pulled me close, his breath mingling with mine, “you”re the only girl I”ve had up here that’s mattered.”
“That”s not very nice to the other girls.”
He placed a lingering kiss on my lips. “I”m sure they”d say the same thing about me.”
“I doubt that. You are famous, after all.”
“Was famous. In my other life.” He kissed me again, long and slow, and pulled me close to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew his face in closer, breathing in his smell, tasting his warm, salty skin. He reached his large hands up and ran them through my hair, loosening it from the clip, letting the strands run down my shoulders. He deftly avoided the bump on my head, his fingers caressing my scalp, something nobody had ever done before. Such a simple, almost nurturing movement, but it felt so good that my skin erupted in goose-flesh. His hands were so huge, he cradled my whole head in them as he bent his mouth to mine and parted my lips with his teeth.
His kiss was long and deep and full of need. I could feel the tension melting away from him, his shoulders relaxing, as he kissed me. His hands were still in my hair. I ran my own up his chest, to his shoulders, and up his neck, resting my fingers behind his ears, feeling the exquisite bones of his jaw. He was so strong, so perfect. I found myself wondering, not for the first time, if he”d always been this other-worldly, or if it was the spell. It didn”t matter – he would have been perfect to me regardless.
We broke apart, both coming up for air, and he traced his lips down my collarbone, stopping to whisper in my ear, “I want you so bad.” His voice was full of intensity, his hands rough and frenzied, running over my clothes, fumbling, urgent.
I pushed him back on the bed, resting on top of him, straddling his waist. I leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. His hands trailed up my hips and under my shirt, resting on my bare lower back, warm and electric. “I want you too.” I leaned down and kissed him again, letting my lips linger against his, teasing, gentle, until he groaned and kissed me back, hard. His hands fiddled with my pants, finally unbuttoning and unzipping and getting them down to my knees.
“What”s the rush? We”ve got all night.” We had both forgotten all about the sauce bubbling over downstairs.
“And I intend to make use of every minute of it,” he said to me, laughing, his green eyes sparkling like emeralds. With one swift movement he”d lifted me off him, placed me on the bed beside him, reared up, whipped off his pants and lay there expectantly, propped on one elbow, his face full of bemused longing. I laughed.
“You”re so beautiful,” he said. “I”m so lucky.”
“I could say the same back to you,” I said, pulling off my pants, then my shirt. I unhooked my bra and lay beside him, nestling into his warmth. He caressed my side, his warm, calloused hands like heaven on my skin. “To think I had posters of your face all over my walls.”
“Explain this to me,” he said in a teasing tone, his hands still roaming all over my body. “The teenage girl experience...the rock star thing.”
“Shouldn”t you know?” I laughed. “We made you a rich man, didn”t we?”
“Be that as it may, I can”t say I understand it,” he said, pulling me close to plant another kiss. “I never did then, either. Girls screaming and hollering for me, putting up posters with my ugly mug, throwing panties at me onstage.”
“Your mug is anything but ugly,” I said with a laugh. “But I think it”s like... It”s a fantasy, like Prince Charming, but with an edge. It”s dangerous, because you”re the bad boys, you know? But it”s also safe, because we”ll never attain you.”
“Except you did.” His voice was low and sexy in my ear.
“Except I did.” I wrapped my arms around him and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “I still can”t believe it. I can”t believe my dreamboat is right here. And he”s done some very inappropriate things to me.”
“I plan to do more.”
“I plan to let you.”
He gave a mock growl and slapped my backside. Then his face turned wistful. “I don”t know how in the hell you managed to bring me back,” he whispered, his lips finding me again. “I may never figure out how all of this worked. But I”m so glad you did. Even if – even if I”m gone tomorrow and this is all I ever did with my second chance, was meet you, get to know you, make love to you, well, that”s more than I could have wished for.”
“Don”t talk like that.”
“It”s true.”
“But you talk like it’s goodbye.”
He didn”t answer, but his arms were around me, pulling me close to him, far into him, his hair feather-light around my face. I caressed him gently, my hands starting at his stomach then down to his navel, and finally to his delicious warm hardness. He gasped when I touched him, and his body responded, pushing closer and closer toward me, not able to get close enough. He moaned softly. But I pulled away.
I looked into his eyes, seeing desire there, but also something else. Worry. His face was a cold thundercloud, dark and foreboding, his brows furrowed over his eyes, which were misty with tears. It was a contrast against the warmth of him, the wonderful feeling of his hands, which were still caressing my skin, pulling me toward him even as he glowered. I grabbed his cheeks in my hands and pulled him to me, pressing my mouth against his in a kiss that reassured more than words ever could.
He relented against me, softening, kissing me back, exploring my mouth with his tongue. Fervently he pulled me against him, freeing himself from his clothes with one hand, pushing himself inside me urgently, and I moaned against his mouth. My arms locked around his neck and I rested my head against his shoulder, wishing I could be inside him the way he was inside me.
When it was over, I lay against him, both of us sweating and panting. I could hear sounds from the kitchen below. Jason had taken over the spaghetti that we’d forgotten.
I propped my head up and peered into Phillip’s eyes, which were still glossy and sad. I didn”t want him to feel that way. Not about me. Not about us. Not when I was the one who had brought him back, brought him here.
I looked deep into his eyes, my hands splayed out on his chest, over his heart, his mouth inches from mine, and whispered, “I release you.”
His eyes widened and he pulled back with a jerk, his hands going out in front of him, grabbing my shoulders, his mouth an “O” of surprise. “Stormy, what-”
“I release you,” I said again, clearer and slower this time.
“Stormy, no-”
“It”s okay, Phillip,” I said firmly. “It”s done.”