Cracked Kingdom (The Royals #5)(15)

That scenario doesn’t feel right, but I can’t think of another realistic explanation.

I let out a small, frustrated scream. I hate this not knowing. It’s terrible. All these people out there know things about me. It’s unfair. What I need is pictures. Although…Felicity’s quickly shared image only served to confuse me more. It was Easton and me in that picture. We were kissing. Why? How? When? Those are all unknown. I need to do my own research, which means I need my phone, a computer, and my purse—and not necessarily in that order.

I’ll ask my mom when she comes to visit.



*

“How’s my favorite patient?” Doc Joshi sings as he walks into the room the next morning. His ever-present smile is stretched across his angular face.

“Good.” I struggle into a seated position. “Have you seen my parents?”

Mom never showed up last night. I slept awful because I kept worrying that I might miss her.

“They didn’t come last night?” Doc Joshi looks mildly surprised.

“I…maybe I missed them.”

“Probably.”

But I don’t think I did. They must be angry with me, but I don’t know why. Was it the accident or something? A hollow feeling inside my chest has developed. It generates a different kind of ache than the physical one. Worse, guilt is eating me alive. I really, really need to know how that other person is doing. Maybe Dr. Joshi will help me out if I ask.

“Doc,” I say to get his attention.

“Hmmm?” He’s engrossed in my chart.

“How’s the other person? The critical patient?”

“Mmmm, I can’t really say, Hartley. Privacy rules and all.” He pulls out a flashlight and points it into one of my pupils. “How’s the memory today?”

“Great.”

“You’re not lying, of course.”

“No.”

He hums again as he inspects my other eye. I don’t think he believes me.

“Is the critical patient still critical?”

“No. He’s stable.”

He. Right. I was told that before. “Does he have any broken bones? Any memory loss? Where exactly was he hurt?”

Doc Joshi straightens and shakes the flashlight at me. “No broken bones, but that’s all you’re getting out of me.” He pockets the light and makes a note on my chart.

I arch my neck to see if I can read it, but it looks like a bunch of chicken scratching. I ask a different question. “Is he ever going to get better?”

“I can’t see any reason why not. Now it’s time you focus on making yourself better. Can you do that?”

I relax on the pillows, allowing Doc Joshi’s confidence to comfort me. “Yes.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.”

He pokes my chest. I wince. “Okay, I hurt some,” I revise.

“Doctor Joshi.”

My mother’s voice sends a surge of happiness through me. “Mom!” I exclaim, thrilled that she’s actually here.

Of course she is, a little voice assures me. Where else would she be? Right. And she must have come last night, too, during one of the times when I was resting my eyes. She probably poked her head into the room and thought I was sleeping and didn’t want to disturb me—

“Hartley.” Her tone is clipped.

Doc looks around and greets her. “Mrs. Wright, good morning to you.”

The smile on my face wavers as Mom takes a step forward. She’s not even looking at me, only at the doc. What’s going on? Why isn’t she coming to give me a hug, or a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the arm. Anything.

“Good morning. I spoke with the nursing staff and they said that Hartley can be discharged today. I’d like for her to go back to school tomorrow. She has finals approaching.”

I gawk at her in surprise. My head aches, my chest feels like a concrete truck ran over it—twice—and I still have no memory of the last three years. Don’t I need a few more days off before I throw myself back into school?

Doc frowns. “I discussed the possibility of discharging her, but now that I’ve seen her this morning, I think she should stay for another twenty-four hours. We can see how she’s progressing tomorrow.”

“I think today’s fine.” Mom sounds surprisingly firm. “The nurse said her vitals have been stable for the last twenty-four hours. She no longer needs an IV drip as she can take the oral painkillers. There’s no reason for her to be here another day.” She backs up, reaches through the doorway and pulls my father into the room

My heart does a little jump at the sight of him. At first I think it’s a jump of joy, but...I’m not sure that’s quite it. It’s nervousness, I realize.

Why would I be nervous at seeing my dad?

His phone is glued to his ear, but he slides it halfway down his cheek to address us. “What’s the problem here?”

“John, they want to keep Hartley here another day.” Mom’s agitated. Why is me staying at the hospital another night such a problem?

“So? Let them keep her.” He puts the phone back to his ear and turns away.

“Okay then.” Doc makes a notation.

Over his back, I see Mom move to Dad’s side and tug on his arm. He glares at her, but she’s not deterred. There’s a whispered conversation that I can’t hear, but I see Mom rub her fingers together. Dad’s glare shifts from Mom’s face to my doctor’s back.