Chapter 18
RALEIGH
They say that when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. Now that my life was threatened for a second time, I could confirm that it was bullshit.
Angel’s eyes were squeezed shut in pain, body nearly blurring with violent tremors. His tattoos winked and shimmered under illumination without a source. I’d never seen anything like it before.
So focused on whatever light show was happening with Angel, I didn’t notice Billie angling themself to get better leverage over me. I didn’t notice how close to the edge of the sidewalk our argument had carried us. Spittle flew from their mouth as they shouted in my face, but I ignored them. My best friend needed me.
Sudden motion. Unexpected pressure.
And then I was falling. Billie found the perfect moment to shove me into the road, right into oncoming traffic. My ankle twisted with an audible pop, and I yelped in pain. Far more alarming was the pair of headlights filling my vision. There was no honk, no squeal of brakes. There wasn’t time.
There was no way I could save myself, so I closed my eyes—and out of sheer self-preservation, tried to throw myself toward the sidewalk and minimize the damage. I knew it was hopeless.
Nothing happened.
Everything around me went so silent that my ears rang to fill the void. Then, my heartbeat kicked into gear with a physical thud. My ankle throbbed, and my arm burned from road rash. I gasped so hard my chest ached, but I didn’t mind it all; I was still alive if I could feel the pain.
I hadn’t heard any tires screeching, any sounds of crunching metal. The heat that I expected to feel from the fire never came. Instead, I was enveloped in a comforting warmth—a familiar warmth.
Cautiously, I slowly removed my arms from around my head and opened my eyes. Everything was frozen. The cars around me had stopped as if someone had pressed pause on a movie. People on the sidewalk were frozen mid-step. Even Billie stood there, paused in time with a horrified expression on their face.
Only one other person seemed to be trapped in this… shit, I wasn’t even sure what to call it. The world around me had turned golden, like it was permanently caught in the light of the setting sun. The light grew brighter the closer it came.
It became Angel. I sometimes joked that Angel was the center of my universe, but damn—he glowed like the sun.
I blinked rapidly, afraid I was seeing things. Had that truck hit me? Was this some coma-induced dream? Was I actually dead?
I’d always had half a foot on Angel and was built a bit broader. It didn’t matter. Angel shielded me with his body, that radiant golden light cascading from his fucking tattoos . It was as though Angel’s soul had become a beacon, and his light was pouring through the centers of the all-seeing eyes scattered across his body. His hair rustled in an unfelt breeze, shimmering to match the same hue as the glow around me. Every strand seemed to have been coated in liquid gold, as opposed to its usual platinum blond.
With a groan, I rose into a sitting position. Angel raised his head to look at me, and his eyes shone so brightly that it almost felt like I was watching a living cartoon.
Then the rest of Angel came into view. A massive pair of swanlike wings stretched out to either side of him, each easily as wide as I was tall. Under all of that power, the truck that was meant for me had slid sideways, stopping just shy of his wing.
As though my brain suddenly decided this was enough, a wave of dizziness came over me. I swayed, lightheaded, then Angel’s arms were around me. The sounds of the city returned so suddenly that the noise made me flinch, but only one sound mattered: Angel’s gentle shushing in my ear. His wings encompassed me, the softest feathers I’d ever felt brushing my irritated skin.
My vision grew hazy, and I suddenly clung to consciousness. Angel combed his fingers through my hair, soothing me and speaking without words. “ It’s okay.” My eyes closed, and I welcomed the darkness.
I expected to wake up in the apartment, in my own bed. It was currently Cinderella’s village, what with the amount of wedding stuff scattered all over the place.
No such luck. A soft, rhythmic beeping sounded to my left, and a pristine white room came into focus. I squirmed, and the scratchy blanket over my lap rustled against the stiff clothing I wore. I looked down—a hospital gown. An IV trailed out of my right hand, leading to a bag of saline strapped to an IV pole. My right bicep was bandaged, and now that I noticed it—it really stung. Pain rippled through one of my ankles as well.
Someone grabbed my leg, drawing my attention.
Angel.
He sat in a chair next to the bed, peering up at me with his electric blue eyes. They were glossy with unshed tears. He attempted to smile, but the tears spilled down his cheeks. I couldn’t stand to see him cry, so even though I was lying in a hospital bed, I grabbed the hand he had on my thigh and tugged until he climbed onto the hospital bed with me. His arms wrapped around my neck, and I shuffled as much as I could to make room for him.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”
Angel clung to me tighter, sobbing into my neck and dampening the itchy collar of the hospital gown. He didn’t have to speak for me to know what he was thinking. “ You almost weren’t. ”
With one arm around Angel, I reached back to scratch my neck. Something was really irritating me. Finding something stiff there, I tugged on it—and pulled a small tuft of white feather out of my hair.
Memories sprang back to me so quickly that my head spun. Billie screaming at me, Angel finding us arguing on the street. Billie pushing me, and then…
Then, a literal angel appeared.
My best friend sniffled and lifted his head, wiping his eyes so he could see what was in my hand. His eyes went from the feather to me, and he swallowed hard.
“Am I allowed to ask questions?” I asked.
He shook his head and followed it up with sign. “Not here.”
The reason why soon appeared in the doorway.
“Good to see you awake, big guy,” Eli said, stepping into the room and offering Angel one of the coffee cups in his hands. I didn’t miss the way he looked between the two of us before his face hardened. “Sweetheart, maybe you should give him some space. He’s healing,” he quickly added.
Angel shook his head and settled into his spot with an arm over my stomach. I caught something familiar in the look that flashed across Eli’s eyes, something I’d seen more recently—in Billie’s.
Ah, Eli was jealous. That was new. He’d never been anything but supportive of how close Angel and I were, so what had changed? Had Angel told him about… us?
Either way, I wasn’t Angel’s fiancé, so I wiggled in Angel’s grip. “He’s right. I love you, but your arm weighs a ton and it’s digging into my bladder.”
Reluctantly, Angel got up and returned to his own chair, but he didn’t do it without a grumble.
“Do you need anything?” Eli offered.
“Not before one of you tells me what the hell happened. My memories are a bit fuzzy.” It was only a partial lie. Everything before seeing Angel in all his glory was a blur.
He and Eli shared a look, and Eli explained what happened. “The security camera on the outside of the bar caught everything. When Billie shoved you, you lost your balance and fell. You got lucky, the driver of the truck had what was probably the most impressive set of reflexes anyone has ever seen. Your ankle is sprained. You have some mild road rash on your arm, but keep it clean and it’ll heal. Since you lost consciousness, they want to make sure you don’t have a concussion, but it seems to me that you’re a bit of a miracle case.”
I scoffed. If he only knew. “Billie?” I asked, ignoring the anger that seemed to radiate off of Angel at the mere mention of their name.
“Took off before the medics showed up,” Eli said.
Of course they did. Maybe it would be the last I’d see of them, maybe not, but I hoped they’d learn a lesson from the near-severity of their actions. Maybe even heal. It was probably a bit much to ask for, but in a world where angels were real, who knew anything?
I looked at my best friend sitting sullenly in the chair across from me. He was moving to Seattle. How was I going to find time to figure out what the hell was going on with him.
After a while, since I’d come around on my own, they decided that I was fine to go home. I was discharged, and Eli dropped Angel and I at our apartment before heading back to the hospital for his shift.
Desperate for a shower, I went straight to the bathroom, only for Angel to crack the door and weasel his way into the space before I could slam it shut again.
“Do you mind?” I laughed.
Silently, he signed, “Sit,” and pointed at the closed toilet seat.
What the hell did I have left to lose?
I sat down, and Angel turned on the water in the shower before returning to me. He felt under the sleeve of my shirt and slowly peeled the dressing away to reveal the second nastiest case of road rash I’d ever had. His breath hitched, and I looked up to see tears in his eyes. His fingers brushed over the abrasion, and I hissed at the sting. Then, it slowly started to fade. It itched fiercely as, before my eyes, the skin stitched itself back together, my tattoos re-etching themselves.
I stammered in shock, trying to find my words, when Angel sank to his knees. He grabbed my ankle and rubbed his hands over the denim. I winced at the pain, then it was gone.
Kneeling on the ground, Angel peered up at me through his lashes. “Does anything else hurt?” he asked, signing with one hand, his other still on my leg.
I was too stunned to speak. The only answer I could offer him was a shake of my head.
“Shower,” he told me, rising to his feet. “Take as long as you need. Then we’ll talk.”
The door shut, and I was alone.
As long as I needed? What the hell did that mean? I’d already waited over twelve hours for answers about what happened out there in the street.
When we’d pulled up in front of the building, there’d been a distinct lack of evidence. I don’t know what I expected, but certainly there should be something left over from the divine intervention that saved my life. But there wasn’t so much as a skid mark on the road from the sudden stop of tires. According to Eli, the truck swerved at the last second and missed me—and, miraculously, all the other cars—completely.
Seeing as how I wasn’t going to get my way, I slowly stripped. I expected to feel pain in my shoulder and bicep when I removed my shirt, but nothing happened. No tenderness, no soreness. The same could be said for my ankle when I stood and tentatively put pressure on it. It took my full weight without issue as I took off my jeans.
When I stepped into the shower, my mind quieted. The hot water rinsed away the disinfectant from the hospital and the triggering memories that went along with it. I didn’t show that vulnerable side of me often, but it was hard not to at times. Especially when I felt as splayed open as I did now. I washed myself twice. As soapy suds trickled down my body on the second rinse, my fingers feathered over my ribcage, dancing over the memory of long-ago injuries that had healed over. I stepped out of the shower and wiped my face, thumbing over the small scar hidden in my hairline.
Angel must’ve been listening for the water to turn off because he stepped into the room as soon as I wrapped a towel around my waist. “You okay?”
I nodded, brushing my wet hair away from my face. Angel didn’t leave the room. Instead, he scanned my body as if there were cuts or scrapes he hadn’t healed yet.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked.
“Is it too early for tequila?”
Angel rolled his eyes, but I caught the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I was thinking coffee.”
“Irish coffee?” I pressed.
He chuckled, and the sound spread warmth through my chest. I could practically hear him scolding me, but it was worth it.
“I’d love some,” I said.
The sun started to peek through the windows as I pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. I found Angel in the kitchen, but instead of turning this into a “kitchen floor” conversation, he gestured toward the couch. I wasn’t sure whether I was moving on autopilot or if I was simply too exhausted to argue, but I fell into the cushions. Fatigue seemed to hit me out of nowhere and I rested my head on the back of the couch, eyes slipping shut until the cushions dipped next to me, Angel taking his seat. The click as he set two mugs on the table was loud in the quiet apartment.
Angel tapped me on my shoulder to get my attention before pressing my mug into my palm. The heat seeped through the ceramic, melting into my skin and relaxing my nerves. His hand remained in place, blanketing mine.
“So, you with wings… not a dream?”
Angel grimaced—and shook his head.
I outlined the all-seeing eye on the back of his hand with my finger. “These actually move?”
He sighed, settling deeper into the couch and crossing his legs underneath him. “I’m not sure where to start.”
Angel had always been a man of few words, but since relying on sign to communicate, those words diminished further. Even talking with his hands was taxing on Angel’s anxiety, so to take the pressure off of him, I prepared to carry the conversation—as much as I could.
“Are you… human?” I began.
He looked down at his lap, to where he picked at his fingers. After a long moment, he shook his head.
I brought my drink to my mouth to buy time to organize my thoughts, my questions, but Angel moved first. He ran a light finger over the faded white scar on my forehead.
“I was thinking about that night too,” I admitted.
“Do you remember what they told you and my parents about internal decapitations?”
Of course I remembered. I was only fifteen, but I’d be damned if the nurses kicked me out of Angel’s room; they stopped trying after a week. There was a fancier term for what happened to Angel, but the normal-people word they used haunted me for years. Still haunted me. They called it internal decapitation: Angel’s skull had completely broken away from his spine.
“They said that most cases don’t make it to the hospital.”
Angel bobbed his head. “It’s usually fatal, especially in adults.”
And he was an angel. My heart raced, my grip tightening on my mug. “What are you trying to tell me, Angel?”
He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, and I fought the urge to tug it free.
“I died that night,” he finally signed. “When I hit the roof of the car and broke my neck, I died instantly.” As if he knew I would argue, he kept signing. “The medic who responded to the call that night was…” He paused and wiped his hands on his jeans. He was shaking, but it wasn’t the violent convulsions from last night. Unable to stand it, I set my coffee on the table and pulled him into my arms.
Angel took a couple of deep breaths, nuzzling into my neck and relaxing. I tried to ignore the way it made me feel, but it was impossible. If there was a way to keep Angel in my arms forever, I would take it in a heartbeat.
When he pushed against my chest, I loosened my grip and let him sit up. I cupped his chin in my hands, brushing away his tears with my thumbs.
Everything was starting to add up: His miraculous healing after the accident from an injury that should’ve killed him—that apparently did kill him. The tattoos that seemed to form out of nowhere. The feathers I’d been finding all over the place.
“Angel,” I whispered. “It’s more than just a name, isn’t it?”
He gave me a watery smile and nodded against my hand. “You’re not upset with me?”
“What? Of course not! I wish you’d told me sooner, but how could I ever be mad at something that prevented me from losing you, darling?”
That word, darling , was like a bucket of ice water dumped over our heads. We both froze, neither of us making a move or attempting to say anything.
Finally, after a long, drawn-out silence, I was the one to speak. “Who was it? Who do I have to thank for saving you that night?”
Angel wiped the tears from his face before signing his answer. “The medic. She came to see me in the hospital later—much later. She explained that I was too young to die, and while she couldn’t save the others for one reason or another, she couldn’t bear to lose me .” His hands faltered. “I need you to understand that I didn’t choose this. I don’t want to be this way. But last night, saving your life, I’ve never been more grateful to be a freak.”
“Hey!” I hooked a finger under his chin and forced him to look at me. “You know my rule, Angel Dawson: Being a freak is not a bad thing. I’d say last night proves it.” Something dawned on me. “What do we tell everyone else when they ask where the angel that stopped the truck in its tracks came from?”
A laugh bubbled up from Angel’s chest, and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. “I may have used my powers to alter the camera footage. As far as anyone else knows, the truck swerved and missed you.”
I stared at him. “You can do that?”
“I guess so?” He shrugged. “They didn’t come with instructions.”
I reached for my cup again, and the lack of pain in my shoulder reminded me of what Angel had done in the bathroom. He’d… healed me with nothing more than a touch. Cup in hand, I rubbed the joint. “So, you can heal people?”
“When necessary.” His cheeks tinged pink, and he didn’t look at me when he signed his next words. “Or when it comes to you.”
“Me?”
“Ever notice how you’ve never had a bad hangover?”
“Damn. That was you?”
Angel nodded, this time with pride. “You should be dead with the amount of tequila you’ve had in the last few weeks.”
I picked at a chip in my mug, mulling over my next question. “Does Eli know?”
I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know the answer. Angel had every right to keep certain things between him and Eli, but I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be hurt to learn that Eli had known all these years and I hadn’t.
When Angel shook his head, I felt a wave of relief. “Only you,” he signed.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I might—eventually.”
“Angel, you’re about to marry the man.”
Exasperated, Angel snatched his own drink. “Can we talk about literally anything else? I’m so burnt out on wedding talk. I barely have time to prepare myself as it is.”
There was something there, something more that he wanted to say, but when he wrapped both hands around his mug and studied the liquid like he’d be tested on it, I knew it would be pointless to argue. Which, to my relief, was typical Angel. All of this… angel talk felt surreal, like I would wake up at any moment and it would all be a dream.
Maybe I still would, but until then I was determined to enjoy these private moments with my best friend before it all went to hell in a handbasket.