Page 67 of Roaming Holiday

I blink in surprise. “Oh—I was… I’m here to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“Everything. I—I know you were just trying to protect me.”

He offers a small smile as if amused. “Good.”

Wesley was violent the night of my attack and doesn’t regret putting my attacker in the hospital with brain damage. I don’t blame or hate him for anything that happened; he had been my only safe place, but violence doesn’t suit him, and he said he’s thought of at least a hundred ways to kill a man.

“I-I don’t want you to think of any more ways to kill him,” I insist, and it’s Wesley’s turn to blink in surprise. “Don’t let him take your peace away.”

The corner of his lips quirks. His shoulders ease. “Only if you don’t let him take yours.”

“That’s impossible.” I attempt a small, bashful smile. I untie my hands to poke his shoulder. “Mine is a six-two man of steel who pretends he doesn’t have a heart made of gold.”

“I’m six-three.”

I roll my eyes. “Point still stands. You might know how to fight, but violence isn’t your nature. That’s not the man I—” I cut myself off, heart pounding. “That’s not the man I know.”

I head into my room to find Maia and Vanessa sitting on my bed.

“Is there a reason for…” I gesture to them. At least they’re not under the comforter in their outside clothes.

“We were waiting for you while you flirted with Beck.”

My eyes widen. “I wasn’t flirting.”

My sister and cousin exchange looks, and Maia puts her hands behind her back and starts batting her eyelashes. Then she pokes Vanessa’s shoulder.

“I hate you,” I groan, my face heating as I flop between the two of them. I fall back on the bed, and they follow suit. “Why are you guys in here?”

“Your room had the better view for spying,” my sister says.

I hum in response. The three of us stay quiet, and I revel in being able to do that with them. Since the attack, comfortable silence has been nonexistent. I could always feel someone scrounging up the courage to ask me something—anything. But I’m tired of thinking about the incident, tired of dealing with it, and tired of being tired. What happens next?

“I’m scared to become princess,” I admit.

Vanessa puffs out a laugh. “You already are one. Both of you.”

“What do you mean?” Maia asks.

“Even if you don’t work for the institution, you’ll still be princesses. It’s a birthright.”

My sister lifts her head. “Do I still get royal treatment?”

Vanessa laughs. “No, the treatment comes with the job.”

“What’s it like?” I ask. “The job.”

We’re a week away from August. The Sunday of summer. And I’m still conflicted about accepting the crown despite the amount of normalcy it already feels. I’m already making plans, but I’m terrified.

“It’s different for me and Jace. I’ve lived as much of a normal life as I could as a princess. I grew up outside of the city, raised mostly by my dad, had normal teen problems. Pimples. Girls.”

“Yeah, but, in a mansion, right?” my sister presses.

“Maia,” I chide.

“I’m kidding.”

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