Page 10 of Lorenzo & Lily

Chapter Two

Lorenzo useda different entrance when he returned to the castle. Keen to avoid his brothers – at least for now – he went to a distant wing instead of his own.

When he’d officially moved into the Masillian Royal Castle, he’d updated and renovated it extensively. To help pay for the upgrades, he’d turned one wing into an upscale conference center and event venue, and kept two wings for himself and for visits from his large family; eight brothers and sisters, their loves, and their parents did take up some room, after all. It was the fourth and final wing that was his pride and joy.

A recovery center for returning soldiers.

Though he was now able to manage his PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder – he’d been even worse several years ago when he’d returned from his last mission. Then, after his heart had been torn apart by Lily’s rejection, he’d sunk into a deep depression once more.

Eventually, he’d accepted that depression wasn’t something that went away; it was something you managed on a daily basis. With that realization, he’d finally begun to live life again, and he wanted to help other returning soldiers do the same.

Thus, the Masillian Advanced Recovery Centre, or MARC, was born.

Still in his running shorts, Lorenzo entered the MARC and waved to the staff he passed. He was a regular visitor and they knew better than to follow royal protocol and bow or curtsy to him.

He wasn’t a royal here; he was a former soldier.

He grabbed one of the MARC t-shirts the staff typically wore and pulled it on; though the medical staff were used to bare-chested men, the rest of the staff were not.

He wound through the halls, greeting former soldiers as they made their way to the dining hall for breakfast. Some with prosthetic legs or arms, or both, others in wheelchairs, some with whole bodies but bruised minds. Not everyone, however, made it to the dining hall. Some were too injured or too depressed to make the trip and were served in their room.

Hector Perez was one of them.

He made it to Perez’s room and knocked, then entered without waiting for a response.

Hector rarely responded.

The rooms were plush – it was a royal castle, after all – but even the gilded molding on the walls and the classy antique furniture couldn’t hide the despair which hung heavy in the room.

Hector was laying on the bed, his prosthetic legs lying on the floor, his eyes fixed on the streaming sunlight filtering through cracks in the thick curtains. He’d hurt, then eventually lost, both his legs below the knees due to the explosion that had killed the rest of their team. He’d recovered physically, but still struggled emotionally.

He’d also never forgiven Lorenzo for saving him.

As Lorenzo closed the door, he spotted the tray of uneaten food and untaken meds near the bed. “Trying to starve yourself again, I see.”

Perez didn’t respond, didn’t even move a muscle.

Lorenzo toyed with something in his pocket, then pulled it out. “I brought you something.” He tossed the pink seashell as he walked towards the bed, and it landed softly on Hector’s bare chest.

At that, Hector turned his head and blinked at the small piece of beauty before his long, capable fingers picked it up. His voice was hoarse and unused when he spoke. “What the fuck? What’d you bring me this for?”

Lorenzo took a seat on the bed and angled to face him. “I didn’t. If you can get your head out of your ass for a minute, I’ll tell you who did.” Hector’s eyes flashed and Lorenzo wanted to cheer in triumph. Any emotion from him, even an angry one, was progress. “My daughter found it.”

Hector’s eyes popped wide. “What the fuck, Low?”

To keep Lorenzo’s identity a secret on transmissions, he’d been referred to as Captain or Low, a teasing nickname that referred to both his name and the fact that he was low on the royal succession list. He’d fucking loved it, since it made him feel part of the team. Even now, all the soldiers at MARC called him Low, Captain, or a combination of the two.

“What the fuck is right. Jesus, shit, Perez.” He told him what had happened on the beach that morning. “I’ve got a daughter, man. I cannot fucking believe it. I cannot fucking believe Lily didn’t tell me about her.”

Hector shifted up on the bed to sitting – more progress – and continued to finger the shell. “Why do you think she didn’t?”

Lorenzo shook his head, though he knew why. “I was fucked up when I got back, and that’s when I met her.”

“You’re still fucked up.”

“Yes, but not as fucked up as I was then. I was pulling myself out of that shit when I met her, fell in love. Then she left me high and dry without an explanation and it brought me back down again.”

He could see Hector’s eyes working, his fingers still caressing the shell. Hector’s voice was subdued and quiet. “You worried you’ll go down again?”

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