I shake my head at her. “I’ve done what I came here to do.”

Without another word, I walk out. I don’t even waste a glance on what’s about to become a body.

A lightness unfurls in my chest, a sense of completion accompanying it. No one ever said beautiful things needed to be tangible. And the sensation of finally leaving all this behind is absolutely a beautiful thing.

There’s no question about who I want to share it with.

Foster won’t be on stage for a while, so I pull out my phone to text him, opening one of the ICU doors. Once through, I look up, and it whooshes shut behind me as I come to a hard stop. My brow lowers at the sight farther down near the elevator bank.

Colton’s leaning back against a wall, scrolling on his own phone.

“Hi.”

Every part of me free falls at Foster’s voice. My head jerks to the side, and he’s there. Against his own wall, his head tipped back.

“You—uh, what?” It makes as much sense as him being here, honestly.

He cocks a brow, bringing his head up, and I try again.

“Why are you here? What about your concert?”

“Rescheduled it.” He straightens, the bomber jacket he wore in Prague open with a dark tee underneath.

“Can you do that?”

Closing the space between us, he shrugs. “Probably.”

His fingers skim my cheek on their way to push my hair back. They linger, and mine immediately grip the front of his shirt. Leather and cedar envelop me. I stare up at him as his other hand settles against the side of my neck.

“You’re really here,” I whisper.

“Mhmm,” he replies.

I smile, and he kisses me, softly, gently, then he kisses me like the first time wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t. It can’t be with him.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say while he drags the tip of his nose along mine. “You shouldn’t be. I want you here, but why are you here, Foster?”

He sweeps his thumb over my skin. “I have always come for you, Remi. I always will.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I finally let them fall. Warm lips chase them before pressing to mine. Not caring where we are, I push onto my toes for more. I missed his lips and tongue and touch—him.

Even when I tried to forget, part of me always missed him. Part of me always belonged to him.

He said if I let him inside me, he might never leave. But the truth is, Foster West has been there all along. The wandering boy embedded in my soul and stayed there through it all.

Now all of him is mine. Really, truly mine.

47

FOSTER

We play MSG five nights later. Remi’s in the VIP tent, watching every second.