"We'll be in the hall," Phoenix says softly.
They leave me alone with Rex.
Rex's chest expands against mine, a deep, careful breath that he lets out slowly through his nose.
"The mark is gone," I murmur.
Silence.
"The scar is still there. It'll always be there. But the tether… it severed when he died. I can't feel him anymore. There's nothing pulling at me. It's just..." I swallow. "Quiet."
Rex doesn't speak.
But his arm shifts and his hand comes up to my throat. His fingers gently move my hair away from the scar and trace the crescent shape, the rough pads of his guitar-playing fingers soft against the inflamed tissue.
"Are you ready?" I ask quietly. "For what comes next?"
His breath comes out rough and exhausted, but it's close to a laugh.
"I havenever," he whispers into my hair, "been ready for a single fucking thing that's happened since you walked into my life."
I press closer, my fingers curling into the fabric of his hospital gown.
"I'm not going anywhere, Rex."
His hand stills on my neck. "You should."
"Yeah, well. I'm not known for making smart decisions. I joined a band run by a guy who blackmailed me, so."
Another rough exhale. His fingers resume their slow tracing of the scar. "I've been a fucking dick."
"Understatement of the century."
"I know."
"You threatened to ruin my life. You terrorized me in my dressing room?—"
"I didn't know you were agirl," he mutters.
"I'm not finished. You called me Cardboard, you made me go through song after song until I thought I was going to puke to find out what had been stolen?—"
"I get it."
"—you had a white rabbit mask made for me you thought I would hate—and I didn't, by the way, it's fuckingperfect?—"
"I get it."
I tilt my head back so I can see the one blue eye watching me. The good side of his mouth is pressed thin, his jaw tight. The scarred side is pressed against the hospital pillow, hidden from me.
"You have the rest of our lives to make it up to me,scent match." I grin, tapping his nose. He crinkles it with another low growl. "But I kind of like the angry hate sex. So don't gettooreformed."
His eye narrows. "You're deranged."
"You love me. Remember?"
He blows a puff of air through his nose.
But I've never seen his eye look so soft.