Cracked Kingdom (The Royals #5)(89)

A knock at the door has me jerking away and East frowning.

“Who is it?” he growls.

“Me.”

I look up to see one of the twins standing by the door.

“Seb,” Easton says warily.

“I’m going to go and get us an ice cream treat,” I say hastily. East doesn’t want to fight with his brother, but I know he’ll go to the mat for me. Which is the last thing I want.

“Wait, actually. I’m here to talk to you,” Sebastian says to me.

“About what?” East sits up and pins a glare on his brother.

“I’m going to apologize. Got a problem with that?” Seb juts his chin out in irritation.

I hurry over and drag a chair next to the one I’d been sitting in. “Please, come in.” I laugh nervously at my own arrogance. “That’s stupid of me to say. Like you can’t come into your own brother’s room.” I rush over to the closet where I’ve been keeping a small stash of contraband items like Cheetos, sour candies, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that I feed to Easton in between his regular, terrible hospital meals. “Want something?”

“No.” Seb shakes his head. “Can you just…come over here?”

“I love you, Seb, but just because I’m in this hospital bed doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass for mistreating Hart.”

“Easton!” I cry in dismay. “Just let your brother talk.”

“Yeah, let me talk, asshole.” Seb jerks the chair back and drops into it with a huff. “Sit.” He points to the extra chair. “Please,” he tacks on.

I do as he asks.

“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time.

On the bed, Easton laughs and eases back against the pillows. “This might be the most entertainment I’ve had since Hart dumped that drink on Felicity and then we all watched Felicity slipping and sliding in a puddle on the floor like an idiot.”

“Shut up,” Seb snaps at the same time I cry, “Easton!”

He makes a show of zipping his lips shut.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian. I’m so sorry for what happened to you. If I could change things, I would.”

He nods slowly, a frown marring his high forehead. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too.” He drags a hand over his mouth. “Look, I shouldn’t have said what I did before. Sometimes there’s a thick cloud in my head and the pressure builds and builds. I try to keep it in but when I do, it just gets worse. I know I shouldn’t say half the shit that I do, but it comes out anyway. I can’t stop it and no one—no one—gets it.”

He peers at me with desperate, pleading eyes and I experience a kinship so acutely that I might as well be inside his head. He’s been changed irrevocably. He’s not going to be able to reclaim who he was before. He can’t, and maybe I’m the only one who truly gets it. Our heads are so fragile, but our hearts are even more delicate.

When he says no one, he’s referring to his twin. The two of them have been cleaved in half. Sawyer’s responding by never wanting to leave his brother’s side, whereas Sebastian is trying to figure out where he belongs in this mad world.

I want to wrap my arms around this poor lost boy and hug him, but I know he’d hate that. All I can give him is affirmation that he’s not wrong to feel the way he does, that he’s not a bad person for changing.

“I know,” I say. “You’re not the same Sebastian you were before and you never will be. And that’s okay. It will be okay.”

He firms his lips and nods once and then again. He swipes a hand across his eyes and gets to his feet. “Good talk, Wright. See you around.”

I turn to find Easton gnawing his bottom lip in concern.

“He’ll work it out,” I assure my boyfriend. “But we have to let him do it on his own.”

“Dumbass,” Easton mutters affectionately as I climb in next to him. “We don’t care if he’s a surly asshole. We’re just happy he’s alive.”

“He knows that. It’s coming to terms with his changes that’s the hard part.” I snuggle close, careful not to bump his surgery site.

He rests his chin on the top of my head. “And you. Are you having a hard time coming to terms with everything? Your mom was screaming at you over the phone.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“It was hard not to,” he admits.

I sigh and rub my nose against his chest, inhaling his warm, male scent. “She’s afraid. Her whole life is going to be dismantled. She had dreams of joining the country club and hosting teas with the first ladies of Bayview. Now she’ll be lucky not to be stoned at the gas station.”

“I’d rather be stoned at the gas station than drink weak piss with Felicity’s mom,” Easton declares.

“Anyone in their right mind would take the gas station over Felicity’s mom. There are hotdogs at the gas station,” I remind him.

“Good point. Nectar of the gods right there.” He chuckles and then groans. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.” He tips my chin up. “I’m going to take care of you. My dad will, too. He’s not going to leave you out to dry. You’re a Royal now.”

He seals this promise with a kiss.

Being a Royal doesn’t mean that my last name is the same as Easton’s or that I live under the same roof or wear the Astor Park Prep badge on my clothes. It only means that there’s a tribe of people who welcome me, and a boy who loves me. If I can accept that, then I’m a Royal.