My throat tightens, jaw clenching at the memory.

I clear my throat. “I’ll take care of everything. Get the place put back together. Buy you whatever needs replacing.”

She shakes her head against my chest. “I’m not worried about it.”

“Not even a little?”

A small smile ghosts across her lips. “It’s just stuff, Alex.” Then her expression turns serious. “Except my music collection.”

That pulls a quiet laugh from me, the first one I’ve had in a long time. “Your music survived.”

“Thank God.”

The teasing lilt in her voice makes my chest ache. I love this side of her. The woman who can tease me even after the night we’ve had. The woman who doesn’t care that we destroyed furniture or scuffed walls… as long as her music is safe.

Magnolia Steel. A contradiction in the best way.

And she’s mine again. For the first time in months, I’m at peace.

She lifts her head, her eyes focusing on the ink etched over my heart. Her fingers trace the lines, careful and slow.

I say nothing. Just watch her.

She sits up, the sheet falling to her waist, and brushes her hair back as she studies the design. “This is new.”

I nod once, my chest tight. “Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“The manumea. It’s a rare Samoan bird. Beautiful. Endangered.”

She stares at it, saying nothing. Just studying.

“I got it for you.”

Her lips part, but the words don’t come. Her eyes shine, soft and wide.

“After everything fell apart, I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. But I needed to mark what was real, what mattered most. Even if you never came back to me.”

She presses her palm over the tattoo like she’s trying to absorb it. “Alex––”

“The manumea, even when it’s alone, doesn’t stop searching for its mate. Because it mates for life.”

Her chin trembles, and she ducks her head, blinking fast. “You inked our love on your skin.”

“I inked the truth––my undying love for you.”

Her hand stays over my heart, and she doesn’t move for a long time. When she looks at me again, her voice is thick with emotion. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

I slide my fingers along her jaw, gentle. “You were worth bleeding for.”

She leans in, her mouth brushing the ink over my heart, and it hits me—every beat, every thud in my chest, belongs to her.

We don’t speak for a while after that. There’s nothing to say that could top the silence we’ve earned—thick with meaning, heavy with everything that’s passed between us.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m bleeding out. I’m full—of her, of the truth, of the staggering relief that she’s here.