Page 46 of Royal Trouble
For once, Everly didn’t hesitate. That had to be a good sign, right? Did it mean she’d seen a different side of him, one that wouldn’t be so easily written off as a spoiled, arrogant princeling?
He sure as fuck hoped so. Because if today hadn’t changed her mind, nothing would.
They walked side by side, their fingers brushing lightly. Everly was quiet, seemingly lost in thought as they stepped into the shadow of the palace cast by the late afternoon sun. The silence stretched between them as they crossed the lawn, and by the time they passed through the rose garden with its fragrant, multicolored blossoms, what had started as a comfortable silence became so wrought with tension his nerves were ready to snap. He wanted to ask what she thought of the Blue and Gold Foundation, but he didn’t want to rush her.
Bollocks.
Who was he kidding? He was bloody nervous. Though whether it was about her reaction to the foundation or to him, he couldn’t say.
His palms were sweating, and his heart slammed against his rib cage, physical proof that despite his best efforts to remain detached, he cared what she thought. Of the foundation. Of him.
He cleared his throat and said, “Thanks for coming today,” at the same time Everly said, “So, the Blue and Gold Foundation.”
Xander chuckled, and after a moment, Everly joined in, her melodic laughter erasing the tension.
“You go first,” he insisted. It was a selfish move, but he was anxious to hear her thoughts. An outsider’s perspective could be incredibly valuable as he began the work of shaping the foundation.
Plus, he didn’t want to fuck it up by saying the wrong thing.
“I was just going to say that the Blue and Gold Foundation sounds like a wonderful charity.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Actually, I can’t believe the Valerian army or the crown doesn’t have something like that in place already.”
He nodded, his nerves abating. “It’s long overdue. Valeria hasn’t seen a serious conflict in decades. Prior to New Brighton, the last time we even experienced a casualty was a decade ago, and that was a training accident. We’ve been fortunate to avoid international conflict.” He sucked in a deep breath, pushing the memories down. “But the attack at New Brighton was a wakeup call.” The worst possible kind. Hell, he still had nightmares about it. “We need to be better equipped to support our soldiers and their families. Not just during wartime, but at all times.”
He was the most debauched royal Valeria had seen in a century, but this he could do.
Everly nodded, her face solemn. “Well, from what I saw today, you’re on the right path. Giving the New Brighton families a voice in shaping the foundation, providing additional resources, even just being present to show your support. All of those things can become outlets for managing grief and promoting healing.”
She was right, but…
“It’s not nearly enough,” he said, doing his best to sound casual as he stopped to pluck a fuchsia peony from the bush at the entrance to the sunken garden. “No matter what I do, I’m not sure it will ever be enough.”
The vibrant blossom reminded him of his first encounter with Everly. It was the same shade of pink as the dress she’d worn that night. The one that through unfortunate circumstances had brought them together and landed him in the populars. He offered her the blossom, and she took it, lifting it to her nose and inhaling deeply.
When she looked up at him from under her lashes, eyes bright and sun-kissed cheeks flushed, his heart nearly stopped. He definitely didn’t deserve this woman. But damn if he didn’t crave her anyway.
The more time they spent together, the more he wanted her.
“Can I ask you something?”
Xander closed his eyes, the moment shattered. Nothing good could come after a question like that. If she was asking permission—if she needed a lead up—it was because whatever came next was too heavy to stand alone.
“You can ask me anything, Evie.” He opened his eyes, staring directly into hers. “I’ll never lie to you.”
He’d learned long ago it was better to disappoint people up front.
There was a softness in her voice when she asked, “Why did you resign your commission?”
The question hung between them, the only sound the burbling of the fountain at the center of the garden.
He raked a hand through his hair and gestured to one of the stone benches facing the fountain. Everly took a seat on the bench and crossed her long legs, turning her body toward the empty spot she’d left for him. He lowered himself to the bench and clasped his hands together. What the hell had he expected inviting her here today? He’d known she might ask difficult questions, but the prospect of speaking the words aloud still left him unsettled.
Coward.
“What happened at New Brighton,” he said, rubbing his palms together, “the news reports didn’t tell the whole story.”
He figured she’d guessed as much, but he needed to start at the beginning. To build up to the hardest parts. Otherwise he’d never get through it.
“When news of the earthquake came in, General Anderson committed troops to help with disaster relief. It’s not unusual for the military to put boots on the ground when a natural disaster strikes, especially one of such severity. It’s good to mobilize our forces once in a while, and with so many missing and unaccounted for, they figured the more infantrymen, the better. My company and one other volunteered for the mission. We wanted to help, you know?”