“Charley,” she said, leaning in to me, “I insist.”

Maybe if I just explained why I couldn’t tell her. Then again, that would be confirming her suspicions, but I had a feeling she was like a pit bull with a stuffed Elmo. No way was she giving up until everything was out in the open, polyester guts and all.

There was one place Ahn-hell wasn’t allowed. “Follow me,” I said, scooting out of the booth and leading her to the women’s restroom.

“Is he in here?” she asked, kind of appalled.

“No, that’s why we are. He is no longer allowed in the women’s restroom.”

She stilled. I’d just confirmed all her suspicions. All her hopes. Who wouldn’t want to be able to talk to a lost child? I couldn’t imagine what she went through when Angel died. He told me she was devastated. Understandably so. But the thought of the agony she’d suffered tightened around my chest as I watched her face. Every emotion known to mankind flashed across it.

“So, what everyone says about you is true.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. That whole chess-team thing was a big misunderstanding.”

I didn’t amuse her. She was lost in her thoughts. In her hopes and, deep down, her dread. “You can speak with the dead.”

“I can, but only when they want me to, for the most part. Evangeline,” I said, knowing I was going to regret everything I was about to say. Angel was going to kill me. “He doesn’t want you to know he’s … he’s still with us.”

A hand with impeccably finished nails covered her mouth. She leaned against the counter, clearly afraid her legs would give. I let her absorb, mull, and otherwise process everything she was going through. After a long while, she said, “Why—?” Her voice hitched. She swallowed and started again. “Why doesn’t he want me to know about him?”

“He’s afraid you will mourn all over again.”

“All over again? I’ve never stopped.” After a moment, she asked, “Is he well?”

I bit down, not wanting to give her any more information than I absolutely had to. “Yes, he is. But like I said, he is vehemently against me telling you any of this. If he finds out, he will be very angry with me.”

Her chin rose. “It’s my right, Ms. Davidson. I have more of a right to know about him than you do.”

“No, I agree. It’s not me, Evangeline. I don’t know why he—”

Before I could finish, a young male voice filtered toward me, its tone even, calculating. “You did not just do what I think you did.”

He appeared across from me by the women’s stalls. I didn’t know what to say. If I spoke to him, she’d know he was there. He rushed toward me, absolutely livid, and literally wrapped a hand around my throat, pushing me back against the wall. The paper towel dispenser bit into my back on impact, but I let him be angry with me. He had a right. I’d promised him. I’d promised him I wouldn’t say anything. Ever.

“You did not tell her about me.”

Evangeline said something, but it was drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears. He was furious, uncontrollably so.

I felt Reyes, but he didn’t appear with his raging anger like I was worried he would. He revealed himself slowly, methodically.

Dangerously.

I had no idea what he could do to Angel, nor did I want to find out.

Placing my hand on the one he had wrapped around my throat, I spoke softly to Angel, soothingly. “Sweetheart, I know you’re angry. But she figured it out on her own, hon. Just like I told you she would.”

Reyes moved closer and I raised a hand, silently begging him not to hurt Angel.

Angel sensed him. He glanced to the side, applied one last ounce of pressure to my throat, then pushed off me, turning and letting his anger consume him.

“I’m okay,” I said to appease Reyes, but he stayed put right where he was, hovering incorporeally close by.

Evangeline looked on, a slight rush of terror surging inside her.

I held on to my throat and shook my head at her. “I’m okay. I just swallowed wrong.”

“Please stop lying to me, Ms. Davidson.”

Lowering my head, I took several deep, calming breaths, then focused on Angel. He had never, in all the years we’d been together, raised a hand against me. He’d never even come close.

The cat was out of the bag and I was no longer going to pretend otherwise. I would take full responsibility, but I would not be treated that way. “Why are you so against this?” I asked him. “What the hell, Angel?”

“My Ahn-hell?” Evangeline asked, hope sparkling in her eyes. “Is he here?”

“Tell her no,” he said, glowering at me. “Tell her he’s not here. He’s never been here.”

“I won’t do that. She already knows.” I stepped to him. “She’s smart, hon, just like you told me.”

“Too smart,” he said, working his jaw in resentment. “She’ll figure it out.”

“That you’re here?” I put a hand on his shoulder as Evangeline held both of hers to her heart.

The glare he cast me was so toxic, so full of vehemence, my lungs seized under the weight of it. “That I’m not her son.”

It was my turn to be surprised. He’d knocked the wind right out of my sails with that statement. I stood unmoving, trying to absorb what he’d said. Trying to figure it out. “What are you talking about?” I asked him at last. “Then just who are you?”