ROYAL (12 page)

Demi

I clean up in the bathroom, staring in the mirror at a
version of myself I don’t quite recognize.

My body’s reeling, and if I’m being honest, I could run
right back downstairs and climb on top of Royal and go another round.

Guilt rests at my surface, but I’m choosing to ignore it. At
least for now.

I wash my face and mentally list all the reasons why fucking
Royal was a perfectly justified thing to do.

I’m single. Technically.

Brooks is a cheater.

Brooks is a fraud.

Brooks is a liar. And an asshole. And a control freak. And a
pretentious son of a bitch.

I take back that last part. Brenda’s not a bitch. Far from
it. She’s the only good thing about Brooks.

A little voice in the back of my mind shames me for seeking
quiet vengeance on a comatose man, but I shut it down. Just because someone’s
not conscious does not mean they’re immune to all the ways they’ve fucked
people over when they were conscious.

Giving myself a once-over, I consider brushing my hair into
a topknot, but I kind of like this lived-in, sex-hair look going on. It’s
almost cute. And I don’t want to make it super obvious that I did anything to
my hair, because then Royal might get the wrong idea.

As of now, it was only sex. It was only one time. And I
don’t have the energy to try and figure out if it meant anything.

“Hey,” I say when I return to the living room.

He sits on the edge of a sofa cushion, all dressed, and
flipping through a classic car coffee table book of Brooks’s.

Royal’s lips pull at one corner when he sees me, and I’m
relieved when I realize this doesn’t have to be awkward. I take a seat next to
him and fold my legs beneath me. His hand goes to my knee.

“God, I missed you, Demi. I missed fucking you and kissing
you and being with you and . . .” he leans in, sweeping my hair from my face
and cupping my cheek. His lips find mine, and once again, I find it hard to
breathe.

“Let’s not complicate things.” I come up for air, gasping.
“You shouldn’t have any expectations.”

“I don’t.”

“And I’m still mad at you for everything.”

“You have every right.”

“I’m not in a position to be with anyone right now.”

“Of course.”

I check out his hair. It’s all mussed up from running my
fingers through it, but damn, is it sexy. It’s short on the sides and long on
top, thick and lush. He always had the best hair.

“I don’t think you should stay over,” I say, not wanting to
set a precedent. Last thing I need is some nosy neighbor telling everyone I’m entertaining
gentlemen every night.

“Didn’t plan on it.”

His fingertips trail my arm, leaving a path of goosebumps. I
shiver the moment they overpower me. Funny how much power this man still wields
over me.

A knock at the door sends my heart into a freefall, and a
quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner tells me it’s almost ten
o’clock at night.

Royal rises, and I fly to the door, my mouth dry and heart
pounding in my ears.

On my toes, I peer through the peephole, take a deep breath,
and pull the door open a few inches.

“Brenda,” I say. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Her curious, green gaze falls on my disheveled hair, then
the healthy flush on my cheeks, and then she glances over my shoulder.

“Is everything okay with Brooks?” I ask.

“Sweetie, I’ve been trying to call you for the past ninety
minutes.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Brooks’s latest EEG came back. They’re going to start the
process of waking him up. I didn’t think you’d want to miss it, you know, in
case he wakes up tonight.” Her brows lift, but she’s not smiling. This isn’t
like her.

God, I really hope I don’t smell like sex.

Okay.
Now
I feel
guilty.

Now
I feel like a
shitty human being.

Not once while Royal was deep inside me was I thinking about
how this would affect Brenda if she ever found out.

“I’ll pack an overnight bag and meet you down there soon,
okay?” I offer a smile and try my damnedest to act elated about all of this.
“And I’ll call my family and let them know. I’m sure they’ll want to be there
when he wakes up.”

Brenda still won’t smile, and it makes me feel about
this
big.

I can’t hurt her.

I’ll deal with Brooks and the consequences of what just
happened as soon as he’s healthy and well, but the last thing I want is for
Brenda to look at me like that again. Like I’ve crushed her sweet soul.

She turns to leave, and I spy her looking at the parked
Challenger across the street. Her heels click along the sidewalk until she
reaches her Audi, and I give her a wave and close my door.

Royal’s waiting around the corner of the foyer, and he comes
to my side.

“Did you hear that?” I ask.

He takes my cheek in his hand, and I place my palm over it.
Now’s not the time to let myself enjoy how good it feels to be touched by him
again, but God, does it feel good.

“I did.” His jaw sets, his gaze narrowing. “They’re waking
him up. Good. He can pay off all those fucking credit cards now.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” I blurt my words before
I have a chance to change my mind.

“Demi, what are you talking about?”

“You coming around,” I say. “With everything going on . . .”

“Wait.” He pushes a forced breath through flared nostrils.
“So now that Brooks is going to wake up, you want to try and make it work with
him again? Is that what this is?”

“No.” I wave my hands. “God. No.”

“Then what’s the issue? Because last I knew, you were
single. Once he wakes up, he can confirm that, and then I’m pretty sure you can
do whatever the hell you want.”

“I just feel guilty about this. Something about it doesn’t
feel right,” I say.

“You’re such a fucking Rosewood.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You have no reason to feel guilty. Brooks was a horrible
person. He left you with a huge mess to clean up. He only ever thought about
himself. You owe him nothing, especially not your loyalty. Don’t sacrifice your
happiness for him.”

“It’s not him. I don’t want to hurt Brenda. She’s been so good
to me, and we’ve become close over the years. She needs to hear it from Brooks.
Once he tells her he left me, maybe we can move forward, but for the time
being, I think we should step away from this for a bit.”

He says nothing, but his lips form a straight line. The
hollow of his jaw flexes. I know he’s not satisfied with my proposal, but it
doesn’t matter. This is how it has to be.

“You just show up at my door after all this time and expect
me to run into your arms and throw the rest of my life—my obligations, my
responsibilities—out the window. You can’t possibly be that delusional,
right?” My arms fold, and I take a step back. “Just because we fucked doesn’t
mean I’ve forgotten how badly you screwed me over. It doesn’t change anything.
It was just sex.”

“I can’t walk away from you again, and I’m not going to sit
around and wait for you to call.”

“Sucks when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?”

“It’s not that,” he says. “We wasted almost an entire decade
apart. I don’t want to go another day without you in my life. I’ve had a life
without you. I don’t want to go back to that.”

“It’s not about what you want, Royal. It’s about doing the
right thing.” I can’t believe I’m pushing him away like this. I waited and
waited and waited for him to come back, and now I’m kicking him to the curb,
despite the fact that he still very much loves me. Am I testing him? Am I doing
this out of fear?

“What’s the right thing in this situation? Push away the
only man you ever loved because you can’t stand to lose that pillar-of-the-community
reputation of yours?”

“This is
not
about
my reputation.”

“Damn right it is. You don’t want people to judge you and talk
about you.”

“I don’t want to hurt Brenda Abbott. She’s been a second
mother to me.”

“Don’t use Brenda as an excuse. She’s a sixty-year-old,
grown woman. She’ll get over you. She’ll move on, trust me.”

“You still haven’t told me why you left.”

Royal groans, slamming a balled fist against the wall to his
right. “Are we really having this conversation all over again? Right now?”

My face pinches, stubborn written all over it.

“I told you. Let’s get to know each other again, and I’ll
tell you when I’m ready. And when
you’re
ready.”

“I
am
ready.”

“No, you’re not.” He grabs his jacket off a nearby coat rack
and slips it over his shoulders.

The fact that he’s suddenly leaving on his own accord makes
me want him to stay. Just a little.

I pushed and pushed and pushed, and now I’m getting what I
wanted.

He’s leaving.

“All right,” he says, jaw clenched. He pulls in a deep
breath and stares above my head. “I’m leaving. Because that’s what you want.
And you have my number, so . . . guess I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

His hand grips the doorknob before I can protest. But why
would I? I asked him to leave. The second he steps foot outside, the ball is in
my court.

“I just need some time,” I say, as if seven years apart
wasn’t enough time to figure shit out. The only thing I’m absolutely, one hundred
percent sure of is that as much as I hate it, I still love this man. And that
love is so deep, so much a part of me that I don’t think it’ll ever go
anywhere.

I can’t deny it. Can’t ignore it. Can’t hide it. Can’t stuff
it into the deep, dark crevices of my heart. His name is permanently tattooed
on my soul.

Royal leaves.

Just like that.

All the things I was thinking about saying in this moment
will never see the light of day.

I watch him drive away, and then I pack my bag and head to
the hospital.

Royal

“The fuck you doing here?” I tense up the second I see my
younger sister, Misty, leaning against my apartment doors. Her pock-marked face
is covered in soggy tears, and her baggy eyes are bloodshot.

When she stands, the stench of unwashed hair and day-old alcohol
breath fills the space around us.

“Royal.” She cries, wiping her eyes with the back of her
hands like a toddler. “Rick died. He overdosed.”

Fuck.

There goes one of the only two people who know the truth
about what happened that night.

“I have no sympathy for you.” I motion for her to move and slide
my key in the door. “Leave.”

“I’m sorry, Royal,” she sobs. “For everything.”

“Little late for that.”

“You’re the only brother I have. I need you in my life.” She
places a hand on my shoulder, and I brush it off.

“Heard that before.” I snap at her. “And we all know how
that turned out.”

“I was just a kid,” she says. “You have to let it go at some
point. You have to forgive us and move on from that. We did.”

The fact that my little sister and her forty-year-old boyfriend
so casually moved on from the most pivotal event in my young adult life only
serves to infuriate me even further.

“You can’t just apologize for something like that,” I say.
“What you two did goes beyond apologies.”

“We’re family,” she says. “You can’t hate me forever.”

“Like hell. I can, and I will.”

“I wish I could change what happened.” Her frizzy blonde
hair highlights three greasy inches of dark brown roots at the top. The sweater
hanging off her bony shoulder has what appear to be moth holes, and her jeans
are barely held up by a skinny belt using its last hole.

She’s using again.

Though I’m not sure she ever stopped.

Haven’t seen her in seven years.

Since that night.

If there’s anything I learned in my life, it’s to never,
ever
trust a user. They’re professional
liars, skilled at ruining lives—their own and otherwise.

One little lie was all it took to ruin mine.

“You disgust me,” I say. “And you need to get clean, Misty.
And I say that not because I care, but because you fucking smell like shit and
you’re a pathetic excuse for a human. A waste of oxygen is what you are.”

Misty’s eyes shake and her fists clench. She can’t stand
still, and she’s in a constant state of motion. My guess is she’s jonesing for
another fix, and sadly for her, her main supplier just bit the dust.

“I have nowhere to go,” she says. “Rick’s kids don’t want me
living in the house anymore.”

Shocker.

“There’s a YMCA two towns over. Good luck.”

“They’re full. I checked. You’re really going to put me out
on the streets?” Misty stomps her foot.

“Exactly. You’re delusional if you think I owe you one
goddamned thing.”

Standing here arguing with a meth-addicted moron is not the
smartest decision I’ve made in recent days.

“Bye, Misty. And don’t come back here again. I’m finally off
paper, and you’re the last person I need to be seen associating with. Not
trying to go back to prison for another crime I didn’t even fucking commit.”

I push the door open and slam it in her face.

She whines from the other side, but I can’t make out the
words. Besides, I could give two shits what woe-is-me bullshit is spewing from
her crusty lips.

She’s a liar.

She’s a dirty, fucking, filthy, drug-addicted liar.

And she deserves to rot for what she did.