"Still suits you."
Phoenix makes a sound of agreement. "It does."
I don't know what to do with that. With any of this. The way they're both looking at me, the way they've arranged themselves protectively around me.
"You're being weird," I say.
"We're being concerned," Phoenix corrects. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes." He tugs the blanket higher on my shoulder. "Concerned means we give a shit. Weird would be if we didn't."
Rafael hums in agreement. His fingers brush the back of my neck, casually, but it sends a shiver down my spine.
The soup comes. I eat it because Phoenix watches every spoonful and Rafael keeps refilling my tea. By the time I've finished, my eyelids are getting heavy.
"You should sleep," Phoenix says softly.
"I should check on Rex."
Both alphas go still.
"Bells..." Phoenix starts.
"He hasn't come out." I push off the blankets, forcing myself to stand. "Someone should make sure he eats something."
Rafael catches my wrist gently. "He's not going to want company right now."
"I know." I pull free carefully. "That's exactly why he needs it."
They exchange a look. Then Phoenix sighs.
"There's leftover pasta in the fridge. He can usually manage that."
Usually manage.
Another piece of the Rex puzzle.
"Thanks."
I plate the pasta without really thinking about it. My brain is busy with other things. The cemetery, the things Rex said about Nash, the way he looked at that window during the drive back.
The hollow look I'm trying very hard not to name.
Rafael's door is closed when I reach it. No light from underneath. I balance the plate on one hand and knock.
No answer.
I knock harder. "Rex. I brought food."
Still nothing.
I try the handle. It turns.
The room is dark, just city light through rain-streaked windows. Rex is sitting on the edge of the bed in dry clothes, his back to the door, utterly still.
"Did Phoenix send you?" His voice is flat.