Page 27 of Reckless Royalty

Not happening

Connor puts his hand over his heart dramatically. “You wound me, darlin’. Here I thought we were becoming best mates, and now you won’t even sing for me.”

I roll my eyes but chuckle silently, shaking my head again.

We continue walking, the conversation flowing easily, even with me mostly writing down my answers. It feels… good. Better than I expected. Connor asks about my favorite bands and favorite songs, and I find myself writing more than I have in days.

When we stop by a small clearing with a bench, Connor sits down and pats the spot next to him, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Come on, sit. Let’s talk more about your rock star past.” I sit down, and he hands me the notepad again. “So, any embarrassing stage moments? You ever trip over the mic stand or forget the lyrics?”

I grin, shaking my head as I write:

Once I almost fell off the stage

“No way!” Connor laughs, his whole face lighting up. “That would’ve been a hell of a show. Bet you made it look graceful, though, right?”

I raise an eyebrow, and he laughs again, shaking his head. “Nah, you don’t seem like the fallin’ type. More like the ‘grab the mic and keep goin’ type.”

I shrug, smiling a little.

Something like that

Connor watches me as I write, his green eyes sparkling with curiosity and amusement. It’s strange, being around him like this—so relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but somehow still focused entirely on me. It’s hard not to feel a little bit lighter when he’s like this.

“So, where’d you play?” he asks, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Did you have a regular gig, or were you like a secret superstar, playin’ in all the cool spots?”

I pause, thinking about the clubs back in Timi?oara, the small festivals where I used to perform. It feels like a lifetime ago. I write slowly, trying to find the right words:

Clubs, some festivals. Mostly local stuff back in Timisoara

Connor reads the note and nods, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s pretty damn cool, you know? Not everyone’s got the guts to get up there and perform. Takes real confidence.”

I shrug again, feeling a little self-conscious under his praise. It’s weird, hearing him talk about me like that, especially when Idon’t feel like the person he’s describing anymore. The girl who used to sing on stage feels so far away now, like she’s someone else entirely.

Connor must see the shift in my expression, because his smile fades slightly, and he leans forward, lowering his voice a little. “Do you miss it? The singing?”

I hesitate before writing:

Yeah. I miss who I was.

He reads the note, and for a moment, there’s silence between us. He looks at me, really looks, and I can see the understanding in his eyes. He’s not pushing, not judging—just giving me space to feel whatever I’m feeling.

“Aye, I get that,” he says quietly. “Sometimes, the hardest part about all this shit—about trauma, about loss—is missin’ who we were before. It feels like that version of us is gone, but... perhaps they’re just waitin’ to come back when we’re ready.”

I blink, surprised by how much his words hit home, like he believes it’s possible for me to find that part of myself again.

He stands up suddenly, a playful grin back on his face. “Alright, enough heavy stuff. Let’s walk a bit more, yeah?”

We walk side by side in comfortable silence for a bit, Connor’s long strides matching mine easily, even though he’s much taller. After a while, he glances at me with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Okay, let’s play a game,” he says. “I’ll ask you random questions, and you have to answer honestly. Deal?”

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes playfully as if to ask,Why?

“C’mon, why not?” He grins. “Could be fun. Plus, I get to learn more about you. You’re a mystery, Maddy. A beautiful one, but a mystery nonetheless.”

My face heats up at his words, and I look away, feeling the familiar self-consciousness creeping in.

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