“That wasn’t the question.”
He finally looked at me then, eyes sharp but not unkind. There was something beneath the irritation now. Concern, maybe, or vigilance. Whatever it was, I liked it more than I should have.
Before I could sit with that realization for too long, my phone buzzed in my lap.
Dad.
My stomach tightened instantly.
“I need to take this,” I said, already pushing myself up with the crutches.
Raphael stood automatically.
“I’ll be right back,” I added quickly.
He nodded once, but his eyes followed me as I moved toward the far end of the waiting room.
“Hey, Dad,” I said softly.
“Belle,” he snapped, voice sharp and agitated. “Someone’s been in here.”
My heart dropped. Bad day. “What do you mean?”
“My room. They were in my room. They took it.”
“Took what?” I asked calmly, trying to assess the situation.
“My remote. They think I don’t notice. I notice.”
I closed my eyes briefly and leaned against the wall. “Okay,” I said gently. “Let’s breathe for a second. When did you last have it?”
“This morning. It was right here.”
“On the side table?”
“Yes.”
“And now it’s gone.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Remember, I put a sticker on it, a tracker.”
A pause as I pulled my phone away from my face and opened the app to make the sound on the tracker beep. I could hear him shifting around in his room.
“That little thing,” he muttered.
“The locator. I put a locator on it so no one could steal it again.”
“Oh.”
“Do you hear a beeping?”
There was silence for a moment, then faint rustling.
“Wait,” he said. “Wait.”
I smiled despite myself.
