by Callie Rose
“Cole—” I started, but I was interrupted by the buzz of my phone on the mattress beside me. I cursed under my breath and reached for it, swiping to answer without looking closely at the number. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Talia Hildebrand?”
The male voice on the other end of the line was pleasant and warm, but I didn’t recognize it.
“Yes, it is.”
The guys all leaned in, and Cole took two steps away from the door like he might attack my cell phone if it tried anything shady. I shook my head to let them know it was okay.
“Wonderful. This is Gregory Nichols from the Pacific Contemporary Ballet. Is this a good time to talk?”
All the sound in the room seemed to disappear as if it’d been sucked into a vacuum. My grip on the phone tightened as blood rushed in my ears.
“Um, hi. Yes, now is fine.”
My stomach clenched so tight it hurt, and my chest felt like a heavy weight was bearing down on it. I wanted to stop him, to cut him off before he could say anything else. But I couldn’t make myself say the words.
“Fantastic.” I could hear his smile through the phone. “I’m calling because we really enjoyed your audition piece, and we’d like to offer you an ensemble spot in our corps de ballet. If I remember correctly, you said you’re finishing up school, but you’d be available to start in the spring after graduation, is that right?”
“Yes.” My lips moved automatically, before my brain could stop them. When I spoke again, the words grated against the lump in my throat. “I mean… no.”
“Oh.” He sounded surprised.
“I—I was in a car accident. I wish I could accept, but I—”
My words broke off. If I kept talking, there was a good chance I’d cry, and I couldn’t let myself do that.
“Oh.” Sympathy colored his tone this time, and his voice softened as he added, “I’m so very sorry to hear that, Talia. I hope you’re all right.”
“Thank you.”
My voice was tight, and as I swallowed, I realized I was surrounded. The Princes had all gathered close to me on the bed, each one touching me somewhere, their gazes locked on my face. I drew in a breath, forcing myself to hold it for a beat before letting it go.
“Thank you, Mr. Nichols. I really appreciate the offer. And I really wish I could take it.”
“I understand. I wish you a speedy recovery, and I hope you’ll audition for us again if you ever—” He stopped and started again. “Well, I hope we’ll see you again.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Goodbye, Talia.”
The line went dead, and I let the phone slip onto the mattress.
A sharp pain flared in my leg, and I didn’t know if it was real or imagined.
My body suddenly felt wrecked, useless, and I shifted on the bed, as if I could somehow escape the confines of my physical form.
I did it. I got in.
The pride that flared at that thought was eclipsed almost immediately by an overwhelming sense of loss, as though I were gazing through a window at the life I could’ve had.
It was so close.
So almost-real.
But it wasn’t mine.
My eyes stung, but I blinked away the tears that tried to well up. I wouldn’t let this ruin me. I wouldn’t.
I had missed one opportunity, but there would be others. With physical therapy and hard work, maybe I could audition again in a year or two—if not there, then somewhere else. My life wasn’t over.
“It’s fine,” I choked out, looking up to meet the Princes’ gazes. They had all moved even closer, gathering in a tight knot around me, and I could see the tension in their bodies as they watched me try to contain my emotions.
Mason shook his head, his green eyes blazing. They burned with intensity as he reached out with both hands to clasp my face, leaning in to rest his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, letting him soak up some of my pain. Our lips were so close that we shared breaths as he held me like that, quiet and still.
Then he moved again, pulling away so fast my whole body jerked from the loss of his. He was across the room in several long strides, and before I could register what he was doing, his fist hit the wall.
“No, goddammit! It’s. Not. Fucking. Fine!”
Each word was punctuated by another strike, until he’d made a hole in the plaster, leaving the white paint smeared with blood.
Breathing hard, he yanked the door open and stalked out, slamming it shut behind him.
Shock made me forget my sadness for a second, and I stared after him with wide eyes.
What the fuck just happened?
“What…?”
I didn’t finish my question, but Finn answered anyway.
“He just needs a minute, Tal.” He squeezed my hand, which he’d picked up while I was talking to Gregory. “He’s pissed as shit. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Mason’s a hard guy to talk out of things.”
A noise that was almost a laugh fell from my lips. “Yeah. I figured that out.”
“He thinks it’s his fault this happened to you. The wreck,” Cole said, his voice low.
A sudden memory sprang into my mind of Mason and him murmuring late at night in my hospital room. I couldn’t remember everything they’d talked about, but hadn’t Mason said something like that then?
“Why?”
Elijah shook his head. “What we did to you was fucked up, Talia. We basically gave the whole school the go-ahead to mess with you. We told them to do it. And Adena has always been one of the worst. She went after you so hard at first because she was trying to get in good with Mace. Trying to win him back, I guess. When that didn’t work, when he started paying more attention to you instead of her, she went after you out of spite and jealousy.”
“Yeah.” Finn snorted. “Although she’s not doing it to try to win his approval anymore. Not since what he said to her after she pushed you down the stairs.”
There was something about his tone that made my brows draw together. I assumed whatever confrontation he was talking about had happened after Mason had left my dorm that day. And judging by the way he spoke, whatever Mason had said to Adena had been… not nice.
“Just give him a little time,” the blond boy added. “He’s just mad. At himself more than anything.”
Then he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward him until my less injured side was tucked tightly against his body. I breathed in his clean, citrus scent and felt my muscles relax a little.
“I’m sorry, Legs,” he murmured against my hair, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “I really am sorry.”
“Adena won’t mess with you again.” Cole’s jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought he’d follow in Mason’s tracks by punching a wall and then bolting. But instead, he stayed planted right where he was, his sky-blue gaze burning into mine. “We’ll keep you fucking safe.”
Chapter 6
Jacqueline noticed the hole in my wall the second she stepped into my room the next day, as if it were a blinking red beacon instead of just a small, ragged indentation. Her eyes widened before her gaze flew to my hands, checking my knuckles for signs of damage.
There wasn’t any, obviously. But I didn’t say anything about what’d happened, and she didn’t ask. She just shook her head sharply and walked out. Maybe she thought I was turning into a crazy, vicious psycho like my mother had—but I’d rather let her think that than tell her Mason had done it. My grandmother could carry a grudge into the next lifetime, and she already hated me. I didn’t see any reason to put him on her list too.
The remaining week before spring semester seemed to simultaneously rush by and drag out.
Truthfully, I needed the extra time to keep resting up and healing. Two days after Gregory Nichols called, Philip drove me back to Roseland Medical to get my stitches taken out. The skin on my shoulder and chest where the seat belt had dug into me had been badly abraded, but it hadn’t been the kind of wound that
could be stitched up. There had been several deep cuts on my arm and side that had needed sutures though.
Doctor Garrett seemed pleased with how everything was healing, although the wounds were still pink and raw looking—their appearance seeming even worse somehow without the stitches covering them up. He was happy with how my leg and ankle were looking too, although I couldn’t even bring myself to glance down at the puffy, swollen flesh when he took the cast off to examine it.
I was quiet on the way home, and Philip didn’t press me to talk, which I was grateful for.
As much as I hadn’t wanted to go back to my grandparents’ house, I found myself sort of glad that I’d been forced to. Even though things had been getting better and less tense between me and my grandfather before all of this, we’d still felt like strangers in a lot of ways. But he felt more like family now, and I liked it.
Jacqueline was all set to have her driver take me to campus on the Sunday before school started, but the Princes offered to pick me up instead, and I accepted their offer immediately. It might’ve been more comfortable in the back of the big black SUV, but I was a little worried my grandmother would try to come with me, and I’d rather be lowered face-first into a pit of lava than be alone in a car with her.
I heard the sound of someone at the door around one o’clock and hopped off the bed as quickly as I could. Jacqueline had sent one of the house staff out to buy me clothes I could wear with my cast—lots of shorts and baggy pants—and I’d packed them all up in a small duffel, along with my medications and bandages. At least it would be easy enough to wear the cast with the Oak Park uniform, since the girls were all required to wear skirts.
As I was trying to maneuver the bag’s strap onto my good shoulder, a knock sounded at the door at the same time it swung open. Cole let out a noise like a growl and strode toward me quickly, plucking the bag from my grip and draping it over his shoulder.
“Ready?” he grunted.
“Yeah.”
The other three were waiting for us in the entry hall, chatting amiably with my grandfather, and as I hobbled in with Cole hovering close behind me, it occurred to me that at this point a year ago, I had disliked—if not actively hated—every person in the room.
Jesus. A lot can change in a year.
As if called by my thoughts, Jacqueline stepped into the foyer, coming from the doorway opposite the one Cole and I had entered through. My body tensed slightly as she entered, automatically going on the defensive like it did whenever I saw her.
Annnd… maybe some things will never change.
I didn’t spare her a glance as I joined the other Princes and headed for the door, but she stepped outside after us. She and Philip stood at the top of the steps as I worked my way slowly down them and slipped into the front seat of Mason’s car. He shut the door behind me while the others piled into the back. As we pulled away, I glanced out the window to see my grandfather putting an arm around my grandmother’s shoulders.
God. I don’t fucking get it. The way he is with her—the way she is with him. It makes me think she does have a heart.
So why can’t I see it?
Mason had put the top down on the convertible, and even though it wasn’t exactly top-down weather, I liked the feel of the fresh air rushing past my face, tossing my hair around. His hand fell on my knee while his other held the wheel, the gesture seeming almost unconscious. As if it reassured him to touch me, to know I was still here.
I didn’t say anything, didn’t even look over at him, just let the heat of his palm sink into my skin as cool air chilled the rest of my body.
As we pulled through the gates onto the Oak Park campus, a strange wave of emotion washed over me.
This would be my last semester here. And while the main reaction to that thought was an overwhelming sense of relief, there was a twinge of something like sadness too.
Almost from the first moment I had set foot inside this place, the Princes had been a huge part of my life—in both beautiful and ugly ways. Our worlds had become so enmeshed with each other’s that it was honestly hard to picture my life without the Princes in it.
But would they always be?
I knew I would see them nearly every day for the next fifteen weeks, but beyond that, I wasn’t sure. There was a good chance they’d go off to whatever fancy Ivy League colleges had accepted them, and I would move on with my life, wherever it took me. Our worlds would fracture and split apart.
And maybe that would be for the best. The highs and lows I’d experienced since meeting these four boys had left me with a bit of emotional whiplash.
But it still hurt to think about.
“Hey, it’s okay, Legs. We’ve got your back.”
Finn sat behind the driver’s seat, and he must’ve caught the pensive look on my face and misinterpreted it.
Cole reached around from the seat behind me and gripped my good arm. “We’ll deal with Adena.”
“Thanks.” I craned my neck to peer into the back, shooting them all a small smile.
If Adena truly had been the one to fuck with my brakes, I hoped she’d learned her lesson. Cruel pranks were one thing, but she had to realize that if she actually got me killed, there would be consequences no matter how rich her family was. I hoped it would make her more cautious, out of self-preservation if nothing else.
Since the assessor my grandpa had hired hadn’t been able to determine the cause of the brake failure, Philip had decided to blame the manufacturer, and had promised me he was planning to take the matter up with them.
And maybe he was right. Maybe that’s all it’d been—just a freak failure in the design, a piece of horrible bad luck.
But that thought didn’t bring me much comfort, and it didn’t mean I wouldn’t be watching Adena like a hawk.
Mason parked in one of the covered spots in the student lot, and Cole grabbed my bag from the trunk.
“Where’s all your stuff?” I asked as we trekked slowly across the quad, the guys taking half steps to keep pace with my awkward hobble.
“We already dropped it off,” Elijah said. “We all met up here, then went to get you.”
By the time we made it to Prentice Hall, my good leg was tired, and my arms and armpits were sore from the pressure of the crutches. Everyone called these dorms the Wastelands because they were separate from the main student housing, an overflow area the school used when the main dorms were full. They were on the very southwest edge of campus, and the trek felt especially long on crutches.
We took the elevator up to my floor, and the Princes made me sit on the couch as soon as we reached my little apartment. They unpacked and arranged everything under my guidance, although I blushed furiously when Cole went to pull my clothes out of the small bag I’d brought, knowing there were bras and panties in there along with my shorts and tops. He didn’t say anything though—didn’t tease me or get weird about it. He just pulled everything out and organized it in my dresser and wardrobe, only stopping when the bag was completely empty.
Then they all joined me in the living room. Elijah and Mason settled on either side of me, with Finn sitting to Mason’s right and Cole in a large chair nearby.
“So…” I glanced across Mason to Finn, wondering if it was okay to broach this subject. I didn’t think the Princes kept much of anything from each other though, so I plowed ahead. “What do you want help studying for? What classes do you need to pull your grades up in?”
He grimaced, running a hand through his golden blond hair. “All of ’em.” Then he huffed a laugh. “Although math, I’m okay in. But American Literature, History, Political Science…? I’m sort of tanking those.”
“Okay.” I sat forward a little to get a clearer view of him. None of the other Princes seemed surprised by his words or weird about our conversation, which made me sure I was right—they had all known about this. “History isn’t really my strong suit either, and thank God you don’t need help with math. But the literature stuff I’m pretty good with.”<
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“Cool.” Finn dropped his head back against the couch, gazing up at the ceiling. There was beat of silence, then he added, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t try. I just can’t get the words to make sense most of the time.”
My brows furrowed, and I leaned over even more. I was practically in Mason’s lap by now, but the green-eyed boy didn’t move. He just watched me with glittering eyes as I stared at Finn.
“Don’t make sense how?”
Finn shrugged. “I dunno. Like my brain can’t always figure out what a word is. It’s stupid.”
“Do you mean like… dyslexia?”
He shrugged again, his gaze cutting to me. He was still draped over the couch, his pose completely relaxed and casual, but something like shame hid behind his eyes.
“I dunno. Maybe. My dad doesn’t believe in that kind of stuff though—calls it hippie bullshit.” He grinned, then grimaced. “I honestly think he’d rather I failed out of school and have everyone think I’m just a jock slacker than tell people he’s got a kid with a learning disability or whatever.”
My body craned so far over Mason’s that I almost tipped over, and he reached out a hand to steady me. I barely noticed it though, because all my focus was on Finn’s face—on the look of resigned self-deprecation in his features.
“That’s… insane.” I shook my head. “That’s so stupid, Finn. I don’t even know if it’s considered a learning disability or not, but it doesn’t make you dumb. You shouldn’t be failing classes just because of that.”
“Well, I am.”
He chuckled, flashing his dimples, and I got the distinct impression he was trying to deflect, to play it all off so I’d drop the subject. Of course he doesn’t want to talk about it, if his parents make him feel like shit for having a hard time reading.
“Okay.” I leaned back, and Mason’s gaze tracked my movement as I settled against the couch cushions again. “Well, I’ll help you study. We’ll figure something out.”
“Thanks, Legs.” His voice was quiet, and he reached across Mason to squeeze my knee.
