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“What?”

“Feed him. When he’s hungry, he gets antsy and sort of frantic. Feed him, preferably like a big hamburger or something heavy so he’ll sleep.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah, go ask him if he wants to eat. I’ll stay on the phone.”

The sound was muffled, and I started to drift.

“Ohmygod, Trevan.”

“Yes, I’m awake.”

“That—he’s hungry.”

“Yeah, I know, gotta go, falling asleep,” I cut her off. “Put him on the phone.”

“Are you—”

“Please.”

Again there was muted noise, and then, “Trev?”

The voice I loved. “Hi, baby.”

“Are you okay? I worried that you weren’t okay, and then I thought who can I call, what can I do this far away, and I started thinking that maybe your sister would—”

“Love,” I said, my voice deep and husky, “deep breath. I’m fine. You need to eat something, yeah?”

There was a catch of breath. “Maybe.”

“I think yeah.”

“Okay.”

“So go eat and call me tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m going to bed.”

“You’re going to bed?”

“It’s late here.”

“Oh.”

“But I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. In the morning.”

“First thing you wake up, you call me.”

“Okay.” He sounded happy.

“Okay, baby.”

“I love you.”