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On his feet a short distance away, Evander finally let his hands drop. “He likes getting high.”

The pain in me flared sharp and bright, and I scowled at the nosy angel. He’d been here. He was everywhere, and he could have been of help for once. Could have done something angelic. Worked a damn miracle. Lifted a fucking finger.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” I demanded.

Evander crept closer, and this time I didn’t stop him. He stood over us, looking down with an almost pitying squint. “Free will looms large, Lorenzo. It’s what some might call the foundational block of humanity.” I snorted again before the angel tagged on, “Why didn’tyoustop him?”

My muscles tensed as I glowered at the other man. “I wasn’t here.Youwere?—”

“You didn’t stop him because you can’t,” Evander cut in. “I’ve watched you bumble through this for decades. Your presence, your oversight, changes little.” He motioned to Indy balled in my lap. “The bird does what he wants.”

My head shook, sweeping loose locks across my shoulders. “He doesn’t want this.”

Indy had told me as much a dozen times or more. He hated the drugs. Hated the addiction. Hated himself, and that hurt worst of all.

In the pause, I heard myself repeating the same thing I’d told myself countless times over the years: “He can’t help himself.”

This time, Evander scoffed. “You’re making me question your intellect, pup.”

I let slip a rumbling growl, and the angel chuckled.

Despite my indignance and the anger that had been simmering since I pulled up to this wretched place, my focus hung on the idea of a miracle. People prayed for those, sometimes they even got them. When Jonathan was dying, his wife asked for Heaven’s intervention, and she’d gotten Hell’s. My curse, my damnation, had been her blessing.

I didn’t want Hell involved in this, and I had no soul left to give for Indy’s sake. Maybe it was Heaven’s turn to step up.

“Can you…” My teeth clicked together, holding back the question that begged to be asked. After a pause, I relaxed my grip on Indy and opened my arms just barely. It took more hope than I had, faith and trust I sorely lacked, to offer my treasure to the angel.

“Can you fix him?” I asked. Begged. Or was this a prayer? Offered from my knees to a heavenly being. A desperate plea for a favor I didn’t deserve.

Evander’s expression was indecipherable. He crouched across from me, and the urge to pull back came even strongerwhen the angel reached out and brushed a curl off Indy’s forehead.

“You think he’s broken?” Evander asked.

I stared down at Indy. Shadows circled his closed eyes and dots of glitter flecked his cheeks. His skin was pale and ashy, but he was still beautiful. Still so precious to me, my tether to love and life long after my death.

Was he broken?

“No,” I replied.

But yes. He was. And his brokenness was destroying me.

Evander rested his palm on my shoulder, and I slumped beneath the weight.

“No,” he echoed.

I looked up at him as my vision filmed with tears. Had I answered incorrectly? Would his response have been different if mine was?

Draped across my thighs, Indy stirred. His golden eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. Then, they found me, locked onto my gaze, and he smiled.

“Lore, you’re here.” His voice was cracked and scratchy as he murmured, “I’ve been looking for you.”

He raised his arms—thin, wavering things—and slung them around my neck. A prompting pull brought me into range so he could press chapped lips to my cheek. His face stayed beside mine, and I looked past him at Evander, who watched with that same inscrutable expression.

“Go,” I told him, trying to stay calm when I wanted to shout at him to get out. If he was merely a spectator to our lives, an observer of the endless tragedy with no power to change it, then I would gladly be rid of him.

Evander’s lips pursed. “It’s not that I don’t want to?—”

“Go!” I barked, and Indy whimpered.