Ella has refused to leave my side since I got back from the hospital. Which is completely unnecessary. The painkillers are doing their job for the most part. As long as I don’t move, the worst discomfort is that the row of stitches kind of itch. The doctors told me not to scratch them, or risk tearing them open, so I’m trying to distract myself by watching Sawyer and Sebastian toss Lauren around in the pool like she’s a beach ball.
It’s not really a nice enough evening for swimming, but our pool’s heated and Lauren’s got the twins to keep her warm, too. Ella and I are curled up together on a lounger, while Easton is texting on his phone in the chair next to us.
“Wade wants to know if you’re gonna have a cool scar,” East says absently.
Ella grumbles loudly. “Tell Wade to stop thinking about stupid shit and just be grateful that his best friend is alive.”
I snicker.
“I’m quoting you on that, sis.” East types something, waits, then starts to laugh. “Wade wants to know if you yell at Reed like that when you’re boning.”
“Is there a middle finger emoji?” she asks sweetly. “If so, send him that.”
I stroke my fingers through her soft hair, enjoying the feel of her body tucked at my side. She’ll never know how fucking terrified I was last night—not for my own safety, but for hers. When that hooded guy popped out of the shadows, my first and only thought had been to protect my girl. I don’t even remember the knife slicing into my gut. I just remember pushing Ella to the side and heaving myself in front of her.
Christ. What if Daniel had sent someone after her instead of me? What if she’d gotten seriously hurt?
“Reed?” she murmurs in concern.
“Mmmm?”
“You got really tense all of a sudden. Are you okay?” She sits up instantly. “Do you need another painkiller?”
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about Delacorte and what a psycho he is.”
“Truth,” East says darkly. “I hope he gets the shit kicked out of him in that military prison.”
Ella sighs. “It’s not a prison. It’s an academy for troubled youths.”
“Troubled youth?” East snorts. “That asshole is more than troubled. He put a hit out on my brother.”
“You really think Hoodie Guy was trying to kill Reed? What if he comes back and tries again?” She sounds seriously upset now, and I flash Easton a hard look.
“Nobody was trying to kill me,” I assure her. “Otherwise he would’ve just gone for my neck and slashed.”
A shudder goes through Ella’s body. “Oh my God, Reed! Why would you even say that?”
“Sorry. That was stupid.” I pull her toward me again. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. Daniel’s gone. And he gave the cops Hoodie Guy’s name, so they’ll track him down in no time, okay?”
“Okay,” she echoes, but she doesn’t sound convinced.
A high-pitched shriek from the pool has us turning our heads toward the shallow end, where Seb is attempting to undo the strings of Lauren’s bikini.
“Sebastian Royal! Don’t you dare!” But she’s sputtering with laughter as she tries to swim away from my little brother.
Sawyer swims up behind her and hauls her into his arms, and the Lauren beach-ball toss starts up again.
East leans over his chair and lowers his voice. “How do you think it works?”
Ella narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Lauren and the twins. Think it’s a two-on-one sorta thing, or one at a time?”
“I honestly don’t want to know,” Ella says frankly.
Neither do I. I’ve never questioned Seb and Sawyer about their relationships. Lauren is Sawyer’s girlfriend in the eyes of the outside world, but I have no clue what goes on behind closed doors.
Footsteps sound behind us, and I tense up again when my father appears on the deck. “Reed. How are you doing?”
“All good,” I answer without looking at him.
An uncomfortable silence settles over the deck. I haven’t been able to look my dad in the eye since Ella told me that she’d talked to him. She was shame-faced and nervous when she came to the hospital this morning, and the confession poured out of her while I sat there fighting equal doses of guilt and amazement.
My dad knows about Brooke. And me. According to Ella, he’s known for weeks—and he didn’t say a word to me about it. I guess that’s the Royal way, though. Avoid the tough shit. Don’t talk about your feelings. And a part of me is grateful for that. I don’t know how I’ll react if Dad brings it up to me. He hasn’t yet, but Ella told me about the paternity test he scheduled, so sooner or later he’ll have to say something, right?
That’s going to be one awkward conversation. I’m happy to postpone it for as long as possible.