*Miranda’s POV*
“Phoenix?” I said into the phone.
“Miranda! We have been so worried! Where are you?” she answered. Her words were rushed and her pitch was higher than usual. Their panic was real. I couldn’t help but worry if George had felt me through our bond, felt what I’d done...
“I’m safe,” I said softly to keep my voice from breaking. “George? Is he?” my words came out strained. Wounded. I was the one doing the wounding, though.
“He’s not looking great to be honest, but he won’t tell us why,” she paused, “Miranda... did something...”
“I can’t talk about it,” my chin quivered. “I can’t face him either. Not yet.”
“Oh, Em,” she breathed. Her compassion almost crushed me from the inside. “I will ask Damian to get him out of the apartment, take him for a drink or something.”
“Thank
