My eyes squeeze closed as I replay everything tonight. From the party, to my sleeping, to Orson coming to wake me. Goddamnit! Why did I not think that was weird? Usually it would have been Royce coming to get me. Why didn’t I see the urgency with Orson, or the worry lines with Storm?
I fly off my chair again. “Why the fuck did no one tell me he was hurt on the boat?” The officers stop talking with Dad as Mom looks around nervously at the passing nurses. Always afraid of what people are thinking.
I point to a guilty-looking Orson and Storm. “You both could have told me!”
“What good would that have done, Duchess?” Orson stands, pushing his hands into his pocket. “He didn’t want you to know because he knew it would set you off. There was nothing we could do until we were back on land. He just—” Orson pauses, his eyes boring through me. “He just wanted you.”
I cross my arms in front of myself defensively. Pain anchors my heart and refuses to let go. “He will always have me. Forever. Reg—” My voice breaks and my knees buckle. “Oh my god, what if I lose him?” The mere thought of ever losing Royce was enough to make me hurt physically. I couldn’t and wouldn’t survive the absence that he would leave.
Royce and Storm both drop to the ground on either side of me, their arms around my neck. “Hey,” Orson whispers into my ear. “He is going to be alright. You know there’s no way that stubborn fucker will let you walk this earth without being able to protect you.”
My lips quiver and my heart throbs from the new scar that’s inflicted on it, initials RK.
“Mr. and Mrs. Kane?” A doctor dressed in scrubs enters and I once again fly to my feet.
“Yes?” my mom says, but I push everyone out of my way and make it to the front.
Mom nods. “His sister. Please, go on.”
Dad is beside me, an arm around my shoulder with Mom on the other side. My other two brothers behind us.
This is it.
My pulse quickens, blood crashing through my ears. This could be the end of life as I know it.
“He’s going to be okay. He’s actually awake now and is asking for… Duchess?” the doctor says, confused. The relief that floods through me is heavy enough to cement my feet to the ground. I clasp my hands together and give myself a few minutes of breath, before following the doctor down to his room while everyone else waits in the waiting room.
Seeing his name Royce Kyle Kane inscribed into the little clipboardt in front of his room burns a new fire through my veins. I want to get him out of here.
The doctor opens the door and gestures inside. “He may not make a lot of sense because he’s still coming to. Try not to take anything he may say to heart. It’s probably the cocktail of drugs that he’s on.”
Curling my lips behind my teeth, my shoulders slump in defeat as I push through the doors to enter. The sharp beeping, the pungent smell of bleach, the beeping.
“Roy?” I whisper, and he turns his head, his arm stretched out wide. He doesn’t look bad. His face is the same. He looks normal, if not for the wires connecting him to a machine.
“Get in here. Now.” He’s still bossy.
I can’t stop the tears that spill over my cheeks as I rush forward.
“Stop crying, Duchess,” he growls, wriggling up the bed.
I swipe my tears away angrily, scowling at him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that you were hurt!”
He reaches for my hand, but I retreat away from him.
“I’m so angry with you. I thought you died!”
He snatches my hand in his and yanks me down, freakishly strong for someone who just came out of surgery. “And what would you have done, hmmm?” Finally, I lie down, kicking off my Vans and saddling up beside him. “You need a shower and give Orson his fucking hoodie back.”
“Shut up,” I murmur against his body, tears drenching the sheets. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Mmmmhmmm.” I can hear the drowsy tone in his voice, he must be drifting off. “Duchess?” I don’t answer, squeezing the white sheets in the palm of my hand. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I love you too,” I say softly, and before I can form any other words, sleep takes hold of my muscles and my eyes turn heavy.
“Are you kidding me? Look how cute they are!” I hear Sloane’s voice in the background as I come to, swiping the sleep from my eyes. Once everyone is in focus, I take in how many people are actually in Royce’s room.
Mom, Dad, and Sloane, along with Orson, Storm, Annette—gag—Orson’s father and Storm’s mother—who is the district attorney for the Bay Area.