call me?”
“We tried,” Reyes said.
I pulled out my phone.
No missed calls.
No messages.
Nothing.
Reyes checked Tyler’s emergency contact information and went quiet.
The station still had my old phone number, one I had changed almost two years earlier.
“I need to go.”
Reyes offered to drive me, but I refused.
I untied the birthday balloons from my wrist and left them beside the cake.
On the way to the hospital, I repeated the same words.
He’s alive.
He’s alive.
When I reached Tyler’s room, my legs
