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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Royal

“Christ,” I growl, tossing my phone onto the island at Briar’s house.

I’ve called in every fucking favor I’ve had, trying to find out where Jade is, and I’ve struck out with everything.

And now I see that she’s performed a couple of surprise songs in Vegas with Lily Maxwell.

Less than an hour’s flight from me, and I can’t get there.

Because I’m on babysitting duty.

It’s a school night, Atlas and Briar are on a business trip, Aspen is at The Sapphire Room, and Banks is on the road with the Vipers.

Dash is with a client who may or may not be Jade.

And I’m here with Frankie.

Normally something I love.

Uncle time is precious and yet…

I could bring her with me on the plane and be back in time?—

Right. Now I’m thinking not only like a pathetic asshole, but also like a bad godfather. I have responsibilities here. I can’t just bustle a three-year-old to the City of Sin so I can fix things with Jade.

If I can even fix things.

It hadn’t occurred to me until much later.

Fuck you, Royal Ewing.

She cursed at me.

Not that I didn’t deserve it. I sure as shit did, and far more.

But Jade had cursed.

Not Frack you, Royal Ewing. Nor Screw you, Royal Ewing. Not even Fudge you, Royal Ewing.

Certainly no Royal Pain-in-the-butt.

But the full shebang.

And I hate that part of me knows what it represented—I hurt her so deeply that I broke something in her.

I grip the edge of the counter and drop my chin to my chest, my exhale long-suffering.

I’m no good for her.

I should leave her alone.

I should?—

No.

I lift my head, reach for my phone again.

I’ll find her.

I’ll make it up to her. I won’t fuck up again.

How, asshole?

It’s Colt’s voice in my head.

How will you show her that she’ll be able to trust you again?

Therapy’s a given. I need to stop with this shit, with the anger that makes me lash out at the people I love.

Because Jade’s the rule, not the exception. I’ve hurt Banks and Atlas, Dash and Briar. I’ve even hurt Frankie. Not with sharp words, but by avoiding her and pulling back and throwing up walls.

And with Jade…

I did all of that.

So, I need to figure out my head, need to find a way to let go of…all the negativity.

Yes, my life took a turn. Yes, Amber is knocked up by Tony Blackthorn. Yes, I’ve been kicked out of the band I founded, that I helped make a success with blood, sweat, and tears.

But I haven’t been a part of Midnight Sun, not for a couple of years now, have I?

No.

Not since my accident, since I iced them out beyond anything I wasn’t contractually obligated to.

What were they supposed to do? Wait for me forever, when I’ll never be what I was?

Should I have heard the news from Amber?

Of fucking course not.

But when is the last time I’ve taken one of their calls?

I can’t remember.

Which…yeah, I fucked up with them too.

Sighing, I scrub my hands over my face.

I have a lot of work to do, too many relationships to fix, a shit-ton of amends to make. It all seems so big that it’s overwhelming, that I can feel that insidious panic just beneath the surface.

It would be so easy to sink into it, to let the darkness and pain drag me under.

It’s far less scary to be miserable than vulnerable.

My gaze catches on a picture taped to the fridge—the drawing that Frankie did at preschool. It’s simple, messy squiggles that form stick people: Frankie, Briar, Atlas, Dash, Aspen, Banks, me and…

Jade.

She’s a part of our family.

My family.

And I know that allowing the darkness to swell up and swallow me whole again is untenable.

Because it would mean a life without Jade.

I reach for my phone, and even though I have no way to get to Jade right now, I’m not completely useless. I can take one small step now.

No. Two.

The first is less scary than the second and I take the easy route, opening the health network app and typing out a message to my doctor—asking for the referral of physical therapy he’s offered at every appointment since the accident.

I don’t know if it’ll help my hand get any better, if I’ve truly plateaued, like I’ve been told, like I’ve been telling myself.

But I’m going to try, going to put the work in.

I finish the message. Hit send.

Then I’m looking at my list of contacts like a rattlesnake is going to jump out and sink its fangs into me.

Because the next step is harder.

And even though I have the number programmed into my phone, this isn’t like physical therapy, tried and put aside in frustration and rage when no further progress seemed to be in sight. This is…

Vulnerable and dark all over again.

This is pulling myself into the light.

I’ve never called the number, not even when the guys all but threatened to tie me up and drag me to the grief counselor’s office. But I did accept Atlas’s compromise of having it saved into my contacts in case I ever felt the need to use it.

Funny that it’s been years now.

And it’s taken until now to finally be ready to make the call.

I tap my finger against the screen, bring my phone to my ear, and listen to it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.

I’m mentally preparing my voicemail when the brusque feminine voice comes on the line.

“This is Catherine.”

“I—” But the words stopper up in my throat, and I find that I suddenly don’t know what to say.

I’m a fuck up. Please help?

“Hello?”

There’s a rustling sound, as though she’s going to hang up, and my throat loosens.

“Wait!”

“This is Catherine Wells. Who am I speaking to?”

Christ, why is this hard?

“R-Royal Ewing,” I finally manage to get out. “Atlas Delarosa gave me your number. I thought…” I lose my words again because I’m not sure what to say… I thought you might be able to fix me? That’s?—

Ugh.

It’s exposed, dangerous. Pathetic.

Jade’s hurt gray eyes flash into my mind.

No. I owe it to Jade.

To myself.

It’s the only way I can be a good enough man to trust that I won’t hurt her again.

I exhale, not missing that Catherine isn’t pushing me to finish the thought, just patiently waiting. “My mind isn’t in a good place. I’m struggling, and I’ve lashed out, hurt the people I love too many times.” Then I realize how that sounds, feel compelled to add, “Not physically, just…”

This time she does finish for me.

“With words?”

“Yes,” I rasp.

“Okay then.” A slight pause, which isn’t the worst thing considering that the no nonsense words leaves me reeling for a moment. “I can do a virtual appointment late tonight. Or if you prefer in person I can see you Monday or Tuesday of next week.”

Tonight is terrifying.

But…

It needs to be tonight.

I need to start now.

“I can do tonight,” I say, my voice still hoarse. “I’m babysitting my niece but she’ll be in bed by eight.”

A pause, and maybe I’m imaging it, but I feel approval coming through the airwaves.

A delusion, likely.

Still, I’m taking it.

“Great. We’ll meet at eight-thirty. I’ll text a secure virtual meeting link to this number. You’ll put in a payment method. My rates are…”

I stay on the line for the next couple of minutes, listening to her rate card, her cancelation policy, how to reach her in the case of an emergency, and the information buzzes around my mind as she says goodbye and hangs up before I can reply.

She’s…

Well… brusque .

Brusque may be a strange trait for a therapist, and yet, I know that if she was gentle or soft or sweet, I wouldn’t have been able to go through with this.

I need someone to match the jagged edges of me, someone who’s protected and not going to get wounded by my bullshit.

Someone who’ll push me so I can push myself.

That’s not my family’s job.

That’s not Jade’s either.

I need them to love me, and I’ll love them back.

I need her to love me, and I’ll give her the world.

I just…

Have to get to her first.

I exhale, rubbing the ache in my chest as I hear footsteps pound down the hall, signaling that Frankie’s daily love affair with Ms. Rachel has ended.

“Time for dinner, Tater Tot?” I ask as she runs into the kitchen.

“I want dino nuggets!”

I grin, despite myself. Her enthusiasm and brightness are impossible to not take to heart.

“Then you get dino nuggets.” I shoot her a look. “And carrots.”

Her nose wrinkles.

“Because we need veggies and because we need sharp eyesight so we can see the right notes to play.”

“Do carrots do that?”

I tug a strand of her hair, even though I don’t know if that’s true or just an old wives’ tale. “They sure do.”

“Okay! Can we have apples too?”

“With peanut butter?”

She nods so vigorously she resembles a bobblehead. “Yup.”

“Then definitely.”

It’s not until a half hour later, when we’re chowing down on carrots, apples and peanut butter, and those required dino nuggets smothered with plenty of ranch, that I get my first big break in my quest to get close to Jade.

And I can’t help but think that the universe is rewarding me for finally pulling my head out of my ass.

“Are you going with Auntie Jade to the Opera show?” Frankie asks, licking ranch off one finger.

I frown, ignore the pulse of pain at Jade’s name, and try to decipher that.

“What show, Tater Tot?” I ask.

“The Opera one,” she repeats, screwing up her face in concentration. “Mommy and Auntie Aspen were talking about a Grand Opera show that Auntie Jade has soon.” Her eyes come back to mine.

Grand Opera.

Grand…

The pieces slide into place.

The Grand Ole Opry.

Jade has a show there? Holy shit, that’s big. That’s amazing .

That’s…

Where she will be.

“Are you going?” Frankie presses.

I reach for my phone, text the operator of the private jet service I use, and then I meet Frankie’s eyes.

“Yeah, Tater Tot. I’m going.”