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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’snot 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. “Ithink 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,thisis 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?”

Chapter Forty-Nine