Page 144 of Property of Scar

“It’s been obvious for a long time, brother,” he replies. Then his gaze shifts, just briefly, toward the room beyond, toward where Cali had been not that long ago, before coming back to me. “It just took the right reason for you to do it finally.”

There’s no judgment in it.

No push.

Just fact.

I don’t answer. I don’t need to.

He nods once, like that says everything that needs saying. “She’s good,” he adds, just as simply. “She is solid. Holds her ground when it matters.” He grips my shoulder, his ice-blue eyes meeting mine. “If she’s where you land…” he continues, voice steady, “… then she’s welcome here.”

It’s not permission.

It’s acceptance.

From him, that’s bigger.

His gaze meets mine properly, something quieter sitting beneath the surface. “I’m fucking proud of you,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not a statement that carries lifetimes of knowing exactly what that damn scar meant. Then he pushes off the bar, already done with it, already moving on as presidents do once a decision is made.

But it lingers anyway.

Because coming from him…

It always does.

“C’mon, enough of the sap, we’ve got a ceremony to get to!” he states, and I smile, knowing what comes next is going to be fun, maybe slight chaos, but fun.

We take off for the main room, all the brothers and club girls mingling together for this milestone.

Rhett and Bennett materialize somewhere to my left in the way they always do, occupying the space with just enough casual energy to make it obvious they’re trying very hard to look like they haven’t been watching me.

They’re not subtle. They’ve never been subtle. It is, at this point, one of their defining qualities.

Rhett’s hellfire gaze flicks to me and immediately away again. The hellhound suddenly finds the far wall fascinating.

Beside him, Bennett has his arms crossed and his attention fixed somewhere over my shoulder. Which tells me neither of them wants to be caught looking directly at me right now.

I let them have it for approximately thirty seconds.

Rhett watches me, quieter than usual, like he’s lining up something in his head.

“You let your scar heal,” he says.

It’s not a question.

My hand doesn’t move, but I feel the absence of it anyway. “Yeah.”

His gaze moves toward the room, toward where Cali is standing, her eyes flick to me, a small smile crossing her face, then back to me, something settling into place behind his eyes.

“Her,” he says simply, tilting his head toward Cali.

Bennett doesn’t look away from me. “No,” he corrects quietly. “For her.”

The distinction hangs there, sharp and deliberate.

Rhett huffs out a breath, something almost like a smile pulling at the edge of it. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Figured it’d take something like that.” Rhett’s gaze shifts again, softer this time, less edge, more certainty. “She looks at you like you’re not already buried under everything you’ve done,” he adds. “Like you’re still something worth reaching for.”

Silence settles for a beat. Bennett’s voice cuts through it, calm and grounded. “She doesn’t see the scar,” he says. “She sees what’s still there.”