Tears dripped down my cheeks. “I asked him to stay for me. He wouldn’t. He said he had to protect his brother…”

Raven’s eyes watered too.

“He loves his brother so much…”

“I know he does,” she whispered. “It’s the way I love you.”

I sniffled.

“Maybe Fender and I are more alike than I realized…”

Magnus found me in the hallway. “Melanie?”

I turned to him quickly, hoping for news, good news.

“I just talked to the doctor—”

“Oh god…” I dug my fingers into my hair on either side of my skull and prepared for another mental breakdown.

“Melanie, he’s stable.”

“What…?” My hands lowered then moved to my mouth.

He gave a slight smile. “He pulled through.”

My palms covered my face entirely, and a new round of sobs hit me. “Oh my god…” I cried for a bit before I dropped my hands.

Magnus held out a tissue.

I took it, touched by the gesture, and cleaned myself up.

“The doctor said we can see him.” His eyes softened as he looked at me. “But I thought you should go first…” Every look he’d given me before had been a bit cold, like he didn’t care for my existence. But now, he looked at me differently, the way he looked at Fender sometimes.

“Thank you.” I darted around him and headed to reception.

“Melanie?”

I turned back around.

“It’ll be nice to have a sister again.”

I stepped into the private room with large windows along one side.

His big mass was in the bed, wires everywhere, wearing a blue gown rather than being shirtless like usual.

I slowly crept to the bed, unsure if he was awake, unsure if he was coherent at all. When I stood over him, I saw that his eyes were closed. The monitor beside him beeped. His blood pressure cuff squeezed his arm.

My hand went to his wrist, feeling that strong pulse.

My eyes closed, and the tears dripped.

“Chérie.” His voice was raspy and gruff, his throat dry from the breathing tube that had been placed there during surgery.

My eyes remained closed, and I broke into sobs, afraid I would never hear that deep voice again.

His voice became stronger, but also turned gentler. “Chérie.”

It was too much. I couldn’t do it.

“Chérie. Look at me.”

When my eyes opened, the tears that had been held back by my lids came spilling down. I locked my gaze with his, seeing dark eyes that were tired and a bit bloodshot, but still intense as always.

His hand gave me a tug. “Come here.”

I got into bed beside him, cuddling with him just like I did at home, but keeping my arm over his chest rather than his stomach.

His arm circled me, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Beside him, I cried.

“It’s over, chérie. It’s over.”

Twenty-Eight

Retirement

Fender