Page 185 of Ghost Ribbon

His mother pressed a hand to her mouth again. His father looked down. Rei softened instantly. Even Ilya shut up long enough to just stare at Marco.

Then Ilya ruined it by whispering, “He laughed at me. I win.”

“You did not win,” Rei snapped.

“I absolutely did.”

“How.”

“Because he finds me charming.”

“He finds you noisy.”

They kept going.

Marco’s eyes kept moving between them, and I could see the exhaustion under the small amusement. He didn’t have the energy for this level of noise, but he also loved them. I stepped forward from the corner. “That’s enough,” I gave them both a hard look.

Rei scoffed then, in open rebellion against both my tone and my existence, he turned back to Marco, leaned down, and kissed the top of his head.

That still pissed me off.

I understood that Rei loved him. I understood that there were bonds between them that had nothing to do with me, and that trying to compete with that would be pathetic and beneath me.

None of that stopped me from wanting to drag him backward by the collar every time his mouth touched Marco’s hair.

But I held it in because Marco didn’t need my jealousy filling the room.

Ilya, unfortunately, had no such discipline.

He leaned around Rei with exaggerated care and whispered, “Can I at least hold one finger? Or is that also a criminal act now?”

Rei did not even look at him. “If you breathe too hard in his direction, I will throw you out the window.”

“There are no windows that open in here.”

“I’ll make one.”

Ilya considered this. Then he looked at me. “You’d help him, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Betrayal from every angle.”

Marco’s mouth twitched again.

I decided not to kill either of them.

After they all left, I stayed.

The chair beside Marco’s hospital bed had become more familiar to my body than my own mattress. I went to him and kissed his head.

“How are you feeling?” I asked quietly. “Was that too much?”

His lashes fluttered once before he looked at me. He was pale still. He would be pale for a while. But there was color in his mouth again. His eyes, though still tired, were more awake than they had been a week ago.

He shook his head. “No. I am okay. How long do I have to stay here?” He looked away for a second, then back at me. “I want to go home.”

A sigh left me before I could stop it. “Two to three weeks. And don’t ask me to take you home. Please. Okay? You need this this time.”