Page 53 of When Hearts Unravel (The Orchid #6)

My phone pings nonstop as I stride down the hospital hallway two hours later, after a long and exhausting interview with the police. My pulse riots, my stomach churning as I follow the nurse’s instructions to get to Rex’s room.

He’s fine. He has to be. He wouldn’t be resting in a room if he weren’t.

I look at my phone, my chest tightening when I see text messages from the girls. Then there were urgent emails from the New York State Office of Professional Medical Conduct, otherwise known as OPMC.

Alexis

OMG, are you guys okay?

Belle

Maxwell just called. He told me Rex is stable. Bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but nicked an artery. He lost a lot of blood, so they did a transfusion and will keep him there for a few days for monitoring.

Alexis

Thank God you were there, Olivia!

Belle

Maxwell said the same thing. If Olivia didn’t slow the blood loss, Rex might not have made it.

I release an exhale, relief washing over me. Stable. He’s okay. The cops wouldn’t give me an update at the station.

I’m still angry. I feel stupid, but during this entire ordeal, the dominant emotion circling through me was fear. If anything happened to him, I don’t know what I’d do, or how my heart could survive it.

Grace

But are YOU okay? I mean, we saw the photos.

Taylor

I’m going to cut his balls off when he gets back. I’ll avenge you, Olivia!

I look at the photos they sent over—all taken from articles posted online.

Rex at the gala with the two models. Dancing with them. Kissing their cheeks.

Me holding Rex in my arms after he was shot, cradling him like he’s precious.

Him looking desperately at me before pressing his forehead against mine.

Then there are images taken by strangers wanting their two minutes of fame. Folks must’ve spotted us in their pictures when we were touring the city, riding the motorcycle, strolling down the alleys hand in hand, looking very much like a couple in love. One of them even shows us kissing.

I don’t think Lana shared with the girls what I told her about Rex. They must think he’s toying with me, treating me like one of his flings.

The press is having a field day.

Crap. This must be why the OPMC is contacting me. They must’ve seen the articles and photos.

Nausea roils in my gut when I remember the chaos in the alley earlier. How the reporters hurled questions at us, the cameras flashing incessantly when they loaded Rex into an ambulance and whisked him off to the hospital.

The cops asked us to stay behind for questioning.

Greg Masters hurled questions. “Who are you to Rex? Why did you guys look so intimate just now?”

Then the vultures dove in to join the chaos.

“There were rumors of amorous noises from your office during your sessions with Mr. Anderson. What were you doing in there? Are you guys in an inappropriate relationship?”

I froze as the lights battered my senses, my blood curdling when I realized not only my heart was broken, but my career was probably over too.

The questions got more and more disruptive before the cops took us back to the station to conduct their interview in peace.

Thankfully, Lana found us and brought with her an army of lawyers, one of whom was hired by Elias. They quickly settled the rest of the inquiries, and Elias’s man whisked Bree and Ava away.

Lana said we were lucky, how everything could’ve ended differently.

She’s right.

Physically, we are fine, but mentally?

I don’t know how I’m going to recover.

You will, Olivia. You treat veterans with war traumas. This too shall pass.

But deep down, what bothers me isn’t the danger I escaped or the women he was dancing with. It’s clear now that was a smokescreen to draw attention to himself while Bree escaped.

What bothers me the most is how Rex never told me the truth about Casey.

He says I’m his temporary forever. That he’ll remember me always. That if he could be with me, he would.

But was it true? Did he really try everything?

He had plenty of chances to tell me. I asked about Casey before—more than once.

I wanted to meet the person who knew Rex the best. And every time, Rex chose to lie.

He said his best friend had social anxiety.

Gave excuses for why I couldn’t meet him.

It was odd, but I thought he needed more time before letting me completely into his life.

I wouldn’t have judged if he told me the truth. I would’ve understood, given my profession and how I sometimes heard Mia in my head.

I could’ve helped him because Casey was just another symptom.

A psychological one. A key one.

But I missed it.

The Velowake. The insomnia. The dissociation. I didn’t connect the dots.

Just like last time.

Memories of that morning sweep into my vision as I round the corner. Rex’s room is just ahead.

I remember how happy Mia was on prom night.

She had on a bright red dress with tiny skulls sewn on the bodice.

Mom shook her head, saying nice girls didn’t dress like that, but Mia only laughed.

She seemed extra relaxed that day, like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

I thought it was because of our upcoming graduation.

My dress was a simple blue gown with capped sleeves—nothing too revealing but did the job. Mia rolled her eyes when I bought it, saying it was boring. But I liked it because it was unlike hers. My neckline was high, while hers was low. My hem length was long, while hers was short.

The Lin twins looked different.

I remember thinking how awesome it’d be if I weren’t walking around with someone else’s face, body, and voice, differentiated only by hairstyles, clothes, or personality. If I weren’t a twin, would I need to try as hard to be unique? Would I need to make myself smaller or more invisible?

And when I found her the next morning—silent and lifeless, a permanent punctuation mark in her short life—I realized I got my wish.

I was the only person with my face, body, and voice in the world now. I lost my twin, someone I should know better than anyone else.

I should’ve seen the signs, noticed the red flags—how she never spoke about her future, how she gave me her precious jewelry box the night before, saying she didn’t want “that shit” in college, how she suddenly stopped caring about her grades.

I should’ve known then, just as I should’ve known now.

Love and emotions clouded my judgment with Mia, and I swore to myself I’d never be their victim again.

But here I am, missing everything with Rex.

Again.

Twisting the doorknob, I quietly open the door and enter his room. When his bed comes into view, I notice him sitting up, his eyes closed, his breathing even, like he’s sleeping.

With my heart heavy, I make my way toward him.

This beautiful, complicated man.

His movie—full of twists and turns, drama and upheaval—is laden with meaning. I still want to watch it, but realize I shouldn’t.

It’s not good for me. He’s not good for me. And I haven’t really done anything for him.

In our month together, he didn’t get better.

He didn’t stop his Velowake, he didn’t give himself grace for his mom’s death, he hadn’t stopped his reckless nature.

He almost died.

I missed the truth about Casey. It was obvious, suspicious from the get-go. But I took what Rex said at face value because I loved him and, against all common sense, trusted him. If I were apathetic, if he were just another patient, I would’ve spotted the red flags, the glaring anomalies.

“I’m sorry, Olive,” he rasps, his eyes closed as I take a seat by his bed.

“How did you know it was me?”

His lips curve into a sad smile. “Your footsteps. The cadence of your breathing. Your smell—clean cotton and honey. Everything tells me you’re here, and I don’t need to open my eyes to know.”

His words fist around my broken heart and twist it. Tears spring into my eyes.

I wish things were different.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I stare at my lap.

“I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Rex shakes his head. “I think I’m crazy. What normal, grown-ass adult has an imaginary friend he talks to and treats as a real person? I actually see and hear him, you know. They should lock me up in a psych ward.”

Derision and scorn pulse from his voice, and it’s then I notice the judgment, the same self-hatred I’ve heard from him before.

Deep down, this is the crux of his shame. He thinks he’s abnormal and broken. He thinks people will leave him if they find out.

“Tell me, when did it start?”

His eyes flicker open. They’re haunted and hollow.

“I told you I had a great imagination ever since I was a kid. It makes me good at what I do now…marketing. But back then, when I was scared, Mom taught me to use my imagination to beat the monster in my head—fear. She had a toy bunny called Alice, who was her friend. I had my T-Rex stuffie. His name was Kazoo.” Rex chuckles, his eyes taking on a faraway look, and I can’t help but smile at the image of little Rex, innocent, afraid, running to his mom because his older brothers wouldn’t play with him.

“I couldn’t say my middle name, Cassius, back then.

So, Kazoo was born. He went everywhere with me.

In my backpack when I went to school. In my bed to keep me company at night.

I’d tell him everything. Whenever the twins did their thing and excluded me, I’d complain to Kazoo.

When there was a storm and it got too loud, I’d hug him.

” Rex sighs, his jaw working, like he’s gearing himself up for the next part.

“After Mom died, and I found her body with my marbles on the floor, I held Kazoo when I spoke to the police. He listened to me when I told him it was my fault. Mom’s dead because I didn’t clean up my toys.

He didn’t judge me. Kazoo was with me at her funeral.

He was there when I made the twins laugh in the bathroom.

He knew I had the pebble scratching my skin, and he knew all my secrets. He never judged me.”

“Oh Rex,” I whisper, my eyes clouding up for a different reason.

My brave, brave Rex, the selfish hedonist was the most selfless all along. He didn’t want to burden his family with his pain.

He bites his lip, his eyes shining with moisture.

“One day, I lost him. We went to Coney Island, and I remember every moment of that day—Dad didn’t work, which was rare.

We had ice cream, and I got chocolate chip and yogurt sprinkles.

All of us had so much fun, even Lana, who just turned four.

But I didn’t remember when I lost Kazoo.

Someone must’ve taken him because I searched, searched, and searched, and he was nowhere to be found.

I was devastated—he was my best friend. He made me brave. He helped me face the world.”

Rex squeezes my hand, his thumb trailing circles over my wrist. I squeeze him back, urging him to continue.

“I was alone again. By then, the twins were cooler, and I could join their games. But it wasn’t the same.

I always thought I had to be on my best behavior.

Had to make them laugh…to serve my purpose, you know?

I was lost. Then one day, when I was looking through cookbooks, crying because I missed Mom, a little boy appeared in my room. ”

His eyes are steady as he asks, “Guess who he was?”