Page 53 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
Phoenix has visited twice, knocking softly before cracking the door just enough to stick his head through. Both times, he looked at me with those kind blue eyes and asked if I needed anything. Both times, I lied and said I was fine. The second time, he lingered in the doorway, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then just nodded and left.
I know they're giving me space to process whatever the fuck happened with Stephen. And I'm grateful for it, even if the isolation is starting to feel like it's eating me from the inside out.
On the fourth morning, there's a knock on the door.
"Bells?" Phoenix's voice, gentle as always. "Can I come in?"
I'm wearing one of Nash's hoodies and my boxers, no binder, hair a rat's nest. Fuck it. My breasts are small enough they're not that obvious, not with my knees up, and I never take off my collar anyway. "Yeah."
The giant alpha opens the door slowly, like he's expecting to find me in pieces on the floor. When he sees me sitting on the bed with my knees drawn to my chest and a notebook on my thighs, he gives me a soft smile.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
He hovers in the doorway, one hand gripping the edge like he needs something to hold onto. "Rex is awake. Rafael and I are heading to the hospital. Thought you might want to know. Or come, even."
"How is he?"
"Stable. Pissed off, which is a good sign." Phoenix drags a hand through his messy blond hair. "Look, there's something else. Rex knows you're staying in the penthouse. He figured out you're staying in Nash's room, and, uh…" Phoenix trails off, jaw working.
I close the book carefully, setting it aside. "He wants me out."
"Yeah." Phoenix winces. "I'm sorry, Bells. I know this is fucked up, but?—"
"It's fine." And weirdly, it is. Being in this room feels wrong anyway, like I'm wearing someone else's skin. "I'll get a motel or something?—"
"No," Phoenix says immediately, shaking his head. "You're not staying in some shitty motel where Stephen could find you. You can have my room. I'll take the couch."
"Phoenix—"
"I'm not asking." His voice is firm but kind.
"Okay," I hear myself mumble. "Thanks."
He nods, then glances at the book beside me. "Nash's?"
"Yeah. I hope that's okay. I wasn't?—"
"It's fine." Phoenix's expression tightens up, his eyes glazing over briefly. "Just, uh… don't let Rex catch you touching his shit." A pause. "You coming to the hospital?"
I glance down at myself. "Give me twenty minutes to make myself presentable."
"Take your time. We'll wait."
After he leaves, I sit there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then I force myself to move.
The binder goes back on first, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from making noise as the stretchy, rough fabric rubs the raw patches of skin, but I grit my teeth and bear it. My own oversized hoodie to hide every curve. Jeans and my silicone prosthetic. Combat boots with a slight platform to add height.
I stare at myself in Nash's mirror.
There. Bells again.
The mask is firmly in place.
When I emerge from the room, Phoenix and Rafael are waiting in the living area. Rafael's perched on the arm of the couch, scrolling through his phone, while Phoenix paces near the window. Both of them look up when I appear.
"Ready?" Phoenix asks.
