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But the sound of the Princes’ voices, each a slightly different pitch and tempo, filtered into my exhausted brain like the best kind of white noise. I felt my head lolling as my eyelids slipped closed, and as they did, Mason’s hands around mine tightened slightly—a wordless reassurance that they were all still here.
The next several days passed in a blur of nurses’ visits, tests, and checkups by Doctor Garrett. Having a steady dose of pain meds through an IV drip kept the worst of the pain at bay, although I could feel it more and more.
I felt stiff too, almost claustrophobic from laying down constantly for so long—not that I had the energy to get up and do much.
The Princes visited every day, and although I tried to question them about how things were at home, what the fallout from Adena’s photocopies and internet videos had been, what was happening, they stubbornly refused to talk about it. They made their visits about me and me alone, back-burnering their own shit to be there for me.
Which was sweet, but it didn’t make me worry less.
I knew Jacqueline had a particularly strong obsession with reputation and preserving her family name, but she couldn’t be the only person in Roseland who felt that way. And the information I’d gathered in my little black book had been stuff that could be damaging to the Princes’ families, not just the boys themselves.
The fact that Finn’s parents had essentially bought him a spot at Oak Park, the fact that Mason’s family had struggled with money problems, the fact that Elijah’s dad had done cocaine and Elijah had gone to rehab.
The fact that Cole’s dad regularly hit him.
All of those things went beyond just embarrassing or shaming the boys. It painted their families in a harsh, unpleasant light, and I couldn’t imagine any of them were having an easy time of it at home.
Every time I saw Cole, my gaze tracked over his face, searching for bruises or marks. His father had been bold, in a way, hitting his son in the face at all. But just because I couldn’t see any bruises now didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Or maybe, like my dad had from time to time, his father had stopped for a while. Which would only make it that much worse when he started again.
After five days in the hospital, Doctor Garrett gave me the all clear to be discharged. I was given a long list of care instructions for my leg and the stitches on my arm, side, and face, and Philip listened carefully as the doctor laid it all out. The Princes had insisted on being there too, and they listened as well—although there wasn’t a chance in hell I would be letting any of the guys sponge bathe me.
Then Philip drove me home with him. I could probably have tried to go back to the dorms, but I knew he would fight me on it. And truthfully, I wasn’t in good enough shape to be taking care of myself. My pain meds had been adjusted down to the point where I wasn’t quite so loopy and out of it, but I was still sluggish and weak.
He pushed me out of Roseland Medical in a wheelchair before relinquishing it back to the staff. Then he and his driver helped me into the back seat of the car before stowing my crutches on the floor of the large vehicle.
Philip sat beside me on the way back to the house, an
d maybe he could see the tension gathering in my body as we got closer, because he reached over and patted the knee of my good leg.
“We’ve got a room set up for you on the first floor. And the house staff will be able to get you anything you need.”
I nodded vaguely, flashing him a tired smile before turning to stare out the window. It wasn’t which room I stayed in that worried me, and it wasn’t the staff—it was going back to the house at all, living under my grandparents’ roof again.
It felt like moving backward in time, and I didn’t like it.
There were so many things in my past that I just wanted to leave there.
Jacqueline actually met us outside when we arrived, which surprised me. She didn’t speak as my grandpa gingerly helped me step out of the car and adjust my crutches, and she trailed several steps behind us as I worked my way up the front steps. Inside the house, she immediately started directing traffic, ordering the staff around with casual curtness as they made sure the spare bedroom at the back of the house on the first floor was ready for me.
Some care had obviously been taken to turn the room into an almost hospital-like setting. Bandages and all of my prescribed medicines were laid out on the dresser, and a bolster had been added to the bed, along with several pillows to prop me up even more. The bathroom had handrails installed in the shower and along the walls, and there were spare blankets draped over the chair in the corner.
It was smaller than the last room I’d stayed in here, but it felt cozier somehow.
I flashed a look at Jacqueline as she directed Avery, one of the staff members, to go heat up some soup. As the other woman turned to leave, my grandmother glanced over at me, and our gazes locked.
It was the first time she’d truly looked at me since I’d arrived.
Her body stilled, and for a few seconds, we just stared at each other across the expanse of the room. Then her lips tightened at the corners, and she blinked.
“Get some rest. You look—” Her voice broke off, her eyes going a little glassy. Then she turned and hustled Philip toward the door, adding over her shoulder, “Please, rest. I’ll have Avery bring you some lunch in a little while. She can help you with anything you need, but I’ll tell her not to disturb you if you’re sleeping.”
Then she closed the door softly behind them.
Gee, thanks, Grams.
I snorted a soft breath, shifting on the mattress. The bolster really helped, actually, and there was one for my leg too, to help keep it elevated. I arranged myself as best I could in a pile of pillows, then closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion that’d been tugging at me pull me under.
