I scratched my jaw. “Huh. That’s weird. My guy in play testing says it’s working perfectly. He tested it himself.”

Heath shrugged and took another sip of lemonade. His shoulders sagged more with each passing minute. “Maybe you should delve into it, since you appear to have more time than you know what to do with.”

I rubbed at my swollen neck, still sore as hell. But since I wasn’t shaving, my neck was itchy. It was a conundrum that was bugging the hell out of me—like everything else.

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

A few more minutes passed, and Heath got squirmy, so I gave him an out by telling him I was feeling tired again—not a lie. I was always tired these days. He stood up and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. But instead of following me off the balcony so I could at least walk him to the top of the stairs, he fiddled with his key ring. Then he set two keys down on the outdoor table before turning to follow me.

I recognized the keys immediately. They had a distinctive shape to them—a lopsided oval head with big letters spelling Porsche engraved across them. I paused, not moving to let him by when he asked me to.

“What’s that?” I nodded toward the table. “Why are you leaving your car keys here?”

“They’re your car keys. I’m giving back the Porsche. She’s parked in a safe spot right on this end of Edgewater Street. You won’t be able to miss her. I’m sure Mia can move her into the parking structure later.”

I blinked. “That car is yours. I signed the pink slip over to you. You’ve been driving it around for over a year.”

His head drooped when he realized I wasn’t going to let him by until he explained himself. “I’m giving her back. Thanks, man, but…I can’t take care of her like she deserves to be taken care of. And I get twitchy whenever I park her. I’m always afraid some asshole is going to scratch her or some bird is going to shit all over her. I can’t enjoy myself when I take her out anywhere. She’s made me a nervous wreck. Isn’t that like a woman?” He shrugged. “No wonder I’m into guys.”

I was puzzled as I tried to follow what he was saying. He loved that car about as much as I did. He’d nearly peed himself when I’d given it to him. And he called it her. He was attached. Definitely attached.

“I’m not taking it back.” I folded my arms across my chest. “It’s yours. Once I’ve given something away, that’s it—it’s final. You should know that by now.”

“Please take her, Adam. I can’t. I just… I can’t right now.” His voice shook when he said it. I averted my eyes to afford him some dignity, recognizing that he was in a vulnerable state these days. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other.

“I’ll take it under one condition.” I met his gaze again. “That we agree that it’s still yours and I’m only holding on to it for a while. I’ll drive it around and get it serviced like I did before. But it’s yours. And you’ll come get it when you’re ready.”

He hesitated. “I’m only saying yes because I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now.”

“Good. I don’t have the energy to argue, either. Now…how are you getting home?”

He held up his phone. “I just requested an Uber.” He stopped me when I went to follow him. “I’m good. I can see myself out. You need to go to bed. You look like shit.”

I grimaced. “Thanks. I’m afraid that, in my weakened condition, I could take a nasty spill down the stairs and subject myself to further school absences,” I quoted.

He grinned, half his mouth drooping, as if, in his depression, he couldn’t allow himself to show full amusement. “Save Ferris,” he replied quietly.

He followed me until we reached the top of the stairs. When I turned and stopped, I put my hand on his shoulder. “If you ever need me for anything, man, I’m here. And, of course, Emilia is never too busy for you. You know that.” It was awkward and stilted, but I thought he understood the sentiment.

He nodded and avoided my eyes. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

And he was gone. I watched him go and puzzled at it. I’d have a talk with Emilia later when she got home to keep her apprised of the situation. I had a feeling that Heath had a long road ahead, and I knew enough of depression, having seen it in family members while still at a young age, to know that he was about to drown in his own.

He needed a support network, and that was what we had to be for him. If we could only figure out how.

I crashed for a long nap, astonished that the thirty-minute conversation with Heath had taken so much out of me. I woke up around dinnertime. A text message from my chef advised she’d left dinner on the warmer. Another message from Emilia awaited, informing me of her late night tonight. She’d rushed home to check on me between obligations, but hadn’t wanted to wake me up because I was fast asleep.

After dinner, I took Heath’s advice and grabbed my laptop—since Emilia wasn’t around to pry it from my hands—and started the quest by opening up a dialogue with the new Town Crier, who stood beside General SylvenWood.

FallenOne says, “Hail, Town Crier.”

Town Crier says, “The high lord of all the land is about to be wed. His lucky bride? The princess Emma.”

Town Crier has offered FallenOne: Lord Sisyphus’s Wedding Quest.

You have accepted the quest – Lord Sisyphus’s Wedding Quest.

Your first task: Go to the place his lordship first met his princess and lay a bouquet of roses on that spot.

I scowled at the screen, puzzling over that. How the hell was I, or any other player, supposed to know where this fictional persona—that I sometimes played for official in-game events—had met a completely nonexistent—except for the purposes of this quest—princess? What the hell kind of quest was this? Quality assurance, my ass.

It seemed…personal, though. Like, applicable to things only I knew. And she knew. Could Emilia have been the one to have it implemented?

I shook my head, dismissing that possibility almost immediately. There was no way in hell that she was that good an actress.

“Hey.” Emilia entered the darkened bedroom. I hadn’t even heard her come in or seen her flip the light switch in the hallway. In here, sprawled on my side of the bed, only the glow of the computer screen served as a light source.