"The library closed at seven. I went there. He's NOT THERE."
I check the time. Seven thirty-two. "He's probably walking —"
"It's a TEN-MINUTE WALK, Silas. The library closed THIRTY MINUTES AGO. I checked. He's not there. Margaret said he left and she doesn't know where he went." Robin is pacing. Flour falling from his hands onto the floor. "I got a phone call today. From a man named Brian at Haven House."
Everything stops.
"Brian is the night supervisor. He called me because I'm listed as Devin's employer on his forms. He's been trying to reach Devin since THURSDAY and Devin won't answer his goddamn phone." Robin spins to face me. "Devin was kicked out of the shelter Thursday night. THURSDAY. Four days ago."
Thursday night. The night before he showed up at the café with a bruise on his face and concealer smeared over the purple.
"A guy was harassing a girl in the common room," Robin continues. "Devin stepped in. It got physical. Zero tolerance policy, both parties out, no exceptions. Brian said Devin didn't argue. Packed his bag in four minutes because everything he owns fits in one backpack, and left."
"Thursday," I say. "That was four days ago."
"Four days. And he didn't tell either of us." Robin's jaw works. "He's been at my café every day. Eight hours. Smiling, making coffee, fixing the espresso machine. Four days and he didn't say a word."
"He's been staying with me since Friday," I say, and the words taste different now.
"Because he didn't HAVE a weekend. He doesn't have a shelter, Silas. He hasn't had one for four days."
Knox is behind the bar now. Ezra and Nico at their stools. Jason in the kitchen doorway. The pride assembling the way it does when something's wrong. Quiet, gravitational, drawn toward the center.
"Where is he right now?" Knox asks.
"I don't know." I pull out my phone. Call Devin.
Voicemail. His recorded message, quiet, polite, the voice of someone who doesn't expect people to call. "Hey, it's Devin. Leave a message."
I text:Hey. Where are you? Need to talk.
The dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Then:
Devin:Hey. I'm actually really tired. Can I see you tomorrow?
The deflection. The management. The careful rerouting of a conversation he doesn't want to have.
No. We need to talk right now.
Devin:Silas it's fine. I'll come by in the morning.
I know you got kicked out of Haven House.
Nothing. No dots. No typing indicator. Just silence, the digital kind that's louder than anything.
The bar is quiet. Everyone watching my phone. Robin standing with flour on his hands and his jaw clenched. Knox steady behind the bar. Jason gripping his spatula like it's a weapon.
Thirty seconds. A minute. Ninety seconds.
Then:How?
Brian called Robin.
Another long pause. I can feel him on the other end. The recalculation, the editing software running, figuring out what to say now that the story he's been managing has collapsed. The same thing he did in my bed when I asked about the virginity. The same frozen moment before the mask either locks into place or falls apart.
Devin:I'm fine, Silas. I have a plan.
Where are you right now?
