Page 17 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

ORSON

I’d been at my desk for hours, working through problem sets and triple-checking my calculations.

The familiar routine usually calmed me, but today something felt off, like that peculiar stillness before a storm that every New Orleans native learns to recognize.

That heavy, electric feeling where the air pressed against your skin like a wet blanket, and even the birds go quiet, as if holding their breath.

The kind of atmospheric tension that made the hair on your arms stand up and had you checking the sky, muscle memory from too many summers spent watching for that telltale green tinge in the clouds.

But why was I feeling like this?

Floris was out at some campus event he’d tried to drag me to, something about international students and cultural exchange.

The room felt different without his constant motion and cheerful chatter.

Quieter, but not necessarily in a good way.

I’d gotten used to his presence, his ability to pull me out of my own head when I started spiraling into perfectionist territory.

It amazed me how quickly he’d become such an essential part of my daily routine.

Mere months ago, I’d dreaded having a new roommate, and even more after meeting him, since he seemed so carefree and disorganized.

But Floris had this way of making everything brighter, whether he was explaining Dutch water management with surprising passion or teasing me about my “excessive” organization habits.

He slipped coffee onto my desk during late-night study sessions, dragged me out for actual meals instead of protein bars, and somehow knew exactly when I needed to be pulled away from my books before I drove myself crazy.

The friendship that had developed between us felt like finding an unexpected solution to a complex equation: surprising but perfectly logical once you saw all the variables.

The phone’s vibration startled me out of my concentration. I rarely got calls. Mom preferred texting, and Tia was usually too busy as a freshman in college to check in with me regularly. The New Orleans area code made my stomach clench.

“Hello?”

“Orson? It’s Principal Matthews.”

My heart stuttered. Principal Matthews had been Dad’s friend, had given Mom her job after… after Dad had died. He wouldn’t call unless?—

“What’s wrong?”

“Your mother collapsed during third period. They’re taking her to University Medical Center.”

The words hit like physical blows. Collapsed. Hospital . The room tilted sideways, and I gripped my desk hard enough to hurt. “Is she okay?”

“They think it might’ve been a heart attack. I called Tia and she’s already on her way to the hospital. Orson, if it was a heart attack…”

I swallowed thickly. “She may need surgery.”

“Yes. I know this is awfully inconvenient for you, but you need to come home. Your mom and sister need you. ”

“Yes, of course. I’ll figure something out.” The words came automatically while my mind raced. Flights. I needed to check flights. But last-minute tickets were expensive, and the emergency fund Mom insisted I maintained wouldn’t be enough.

“Glad to hear that. Tia was very distraught, so Mrs. Bowman, Tia’s counselor from senior year, is with her at the hospital now. She has offered to stay with her until you’re here or your mom is released. Is that okay with you?”

Why was he asking me? I wasn’t… Fuck, I was the adult now. With my mom unable to make these decisions and Tia being so young emotionally speaking, I had to make the call. “Yes. Thank you so much. I will… I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

I ended the call, my hands shaking so badly, I nearly dropped the phone. Mom. Hospital. Heart attack. The words swirled in my head, each one carrying echoes of that day on the roof, of water rising and choices that couldn’t be unmade.

Not again. I couldn’t lose someone else. Not like this. Not when I was too far away to help.

The door opened, and Floris walked in, his usual energy filling our small room. He stopped short when he saw my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“My mom…” The words stuck in my throat. Saying them would make it real. “She collapsed at school. They think it was a heart attack.”

Floris dropped his bag and was beside me in two strides. “Is she at the hospital?”

I nodded, my hands still shaking. “In New Orleans. My sister’s there, but she’s only twenty and has some developmental delays. She can’t handle this. I need to…” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to focus. “I need to book a flight. I need to go home. ”

“Let me help.” His voice was steady, grounding. “I can call my travel planner?—”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “I can’t… I don’t need…”

“Orson.” His hand landed on my shoulder, warm and solid. “Let me do this. Please.”

I looked up at him then, really looked. His green eyes were serious, none of his usual playfulness present, only genuine concern and a steadiness I desperately needed right now.

“I can’t pay you back right away,” I said finally, hating how my voice shook. “Flights are expensive, and the emergency fund?—”

“Stop.” His grip on my shoulder tightened slightly. “Money isn’t an issue. What matters is getting you to your family.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’m calling my travel planner right now.” He was already pulling out his phone. “Give me your passport so I have your info.”

“I… I don’t have a passport.”

“Your driver’s license, then.”

Right. I had that. I handed him my whole wallet.

“Okay. Pack what you need. I’ll make sure you’re on the first flight home.”

I wanted to argue, to insist I could handle this myself, but the room was starting to spin and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Mom. Hospital. Heart attack . The words kept cycling through my head, each rotation bringing fresh waves of panic.

“Breathe,” Floris said softly, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. “We’ll get you there as soon as we can. Focus on packing, okay?”

I nodded, grateful for the direction. This, I could do. Pack. Simple steps. Logical sequence. One thing at a time .

In the background, Floris had switched to Dutch. It was such a harsh language, like he was choking.

When I had packed my bag, he finished his call. “Let’s go.”

“You got me a flight?”

He nodded. “You’re all set. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“How… what…” I struggled to form coherent questions as Floris grabbed my bag and steered me toward the door. “From Logan? You’re driving me to Boston?”

“No. I arranged for a private charter from Worcester Regional Airport. It’s leaving as soon as you get there, so we need to hurry.

” His hand was steady on my elbow, guiding me down the stairs I usually took two at a time.

“The pilot is already filing the flight plan and running the pre-flight checks.”

Private charter. The words penetrated my fog of panic. “Floris, I can’t?—”

“You can and you will.” His voice was firm but gentle. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

Something in his tone made me look at him. His eyes were intense, almost pleading. “Why?”

“Because you’re my friend, and your family needs you.” He led me to his car, opening the passenger door. “And because I can help. It’s that simple.”

Nothing was ever that simple. But my phone buzzed with a text from Tia—it had been a heart attack, and Mom was in surgery now, needing a bypass—and suddenly, I couldn’t argue anymore. I needed to get there.

The drive to the airport was a blur. Floris handled everything, speaking quietly to airport personnel who seemed to materialize out of nowhere to escort us through security and onto the tarmac. A sleek private jet waited there, its engines already humming.

“I’ll let your professors know what’s happening,” Floris said as we reached the stairs to the plane. “Don’t worry about anything here, okay? Focus on your family.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Then, before I could think better of it, I pulled him into a fierce hug. “Thank you,” I whispered.

His arms came around me, strong and steady. “Text me when you land?”

“Yeah.” I pulled back, trying to ignore how right it had felt in his arms. “I will.”

The flight was surreal. I’d never been on a private plane before, and in any other circumstance, I might’ve been fascinated by the luxury surrounding me. But all I could think about was Mom, lying in a hospital bed while I was trapped in the air, useless.

The flight attendant kept offering me drinks and snacks but my stomach was too knotted to even consider food. I kept checking my phone, even though I knew it wouldn’t work at this altitude. What if something happened while I was in the air? What if…

No. I couldn’t think like that. Mom was strong. She’d raised two kids alone, worked full time, kept us all together after Dad… She wouldn’t leave us. She couldn’t.

But the memory of that day on the roof kept creeping back, the way the water had risen so fast, how quickly everything had changed. One minute, life was normal. The next…

My phone buzzed the moment we landed, making me jump.

Tia

She’s out of surgery. Doctor says it went well. Where are you?

My hands shook as I typed back.

Me

Just landed. On my way.

I hadn’t even thought about how to get to the hospital from the airport, but I didn’t have to.

A uniformed driver was waiting for me, holding up an iPad with my name on it.

Floris had arranged a car for me, and my heart filled with gratitude all over again.

The black, sleek car was another luxury that would’ve embarrassed me if I’d had the capacity to feel anything beyond desperate urgency.

The driver seemed to sense my state, breaking several speed limits as we headed toward the hospital.

New Orleans rushed past the windows, familiar and strange at once. The heavy air hit me as soon as I stepped out of the car, that distinctive mix of humidity and history that always meant home. But right now, even that felt wrong, twisted by worry and fear.

I found Tia in the cardiac ICU waiting room, curled up in an uncomfortable-looking chair with Mrs. Bowman beside her. My sister looked so young, her face pale and drawn, and something inside me cracked at the sight.

“Orson!” She launched herself at me, and I caught her in a tight hug. She was shaking, or maybe I was. Maybe we both were.

Whether it was because she’d been a preemie, because she’d been sick a lot as a child, or simply because she was born that way, Tia was sweet and lovely, but very young for her age. She’d been held back twice, and even now, Mom had hesitated letting her attend the local community college.

“How is she?” I asked into her hair, not ready to let go yet.

“Stable.” Tia’s voice was muffled against my shirt. “They did a triple bypass. The doctor said she’ll need to be here for about a week, and then…” She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “How did yo u get here so fast? I thought it would take you hours to get a flight, maybe till tomorrow.”

“My roommate helped.” That felt like such an inadequate description of what Floris had done, but I couldn’t find the right words to explain how he’d swept in and taken control when I was falling apart. “Can we see her?”

Tia nodded. “They said family can visit for five minutes every hour. She’s still pretty out of it from the anesthesia, but…”

“But she’s alive,” I finished, and my voice cracked on the last word.

My sister grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. “She’s alive.”

Mrs. Bowman touched my arm gently. “Now that you’re here, I should head home. But call if you need anything, okay?”

I managed to thank her, grateful for how she’d stayed with Tia during those terrifying hours when I was too far away to help. Then a nurse appeared to tell us we could see Mom.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for how she looked, so small and pale against the white hospital sheets, surrounded by beeping machines and tubes. But her hand was warm when I took it, and her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm.

“I love you,” I whispered, not sure if she could hear me through the sedation. “We’re here, Mom. We’ve got you.”

Tia’s hand found mine again, and we stood there together, watching our mother breathe, each beep of the heart monitor a reminder that we hadn’t lost her. Not today. Not like this.

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text from Floris.

Floris

Landed safely?

Me

Yes. She’s out of surgery. Stable.

Floris

Thank god. Take care of yourself too, okay? Let me know if you need anything.

Me

I will. Thank you again. For everything.

Floris

Don’t mention it.

A warmth spread through me. I didn’t deserve this kindness, this friendship that asked nothing in return. But god, I was grateful for it.

“Your roommate?” Tia asked, noticing my expression.

“Yeah.” I squeezed her hand. “He’s… He’s a good friend.”

That felt like the biggest understatement ever, but it would have to do for now. I had more important things to focus on, like making sure history didn’t repeat itself, like keeping our family together, like being the person Dad would’ve wanted me to be.

Mom stirred slightly, her fingers twitching in mine, and I held on tight.

We’d get through this. We had to.