Remy’s hands are always restless. She finds him charging the petals off a carnation, one petal at a time. He smiles and offers her the flower.
Rogue kneels down and expertly pulls each petal and blows them away on her whispered wishes.
“The Cure for me is permanent.”
“I’ll be married in my mother’s wedding dress.”
“Motherhood. More than one child.”
“Xavier’s dream comes true.”
“I get two years behind a white picket fence.”
His hand settles on hers and stops her. His eyes are full of something when he charges off the last petal and says, “Rogue.”