Wicked princess

Chapter 7

The room is dark when I open my eyes and the uneaten tray of food on my tray table tells me I must have slept straight through di

I reach for the new phone Jace got me since mine was destroyed in the accident, but I notice a tall, shadowy figure in my peripheral vision.

“Jesus.” 

“H-h-hey.” 

I nearly swallow my tongue when I realize. “Holy shit. Liam?”

Despite the pain coursing through my hips and thighs, I sit up in bed. 

“You’re here.”

No surprise, the adult version of Liam looks just like his identical twin.  

God, there are so many things I want to say, but I have no idea where to begin. It feels like an eternity since I’ve seen him. 

 “How are y-y-you feeling?” he asks after another moment passes. 

 “Okay, I guess…considering.” I give him the biggest smile I can muster.  “Better now that you’re here.” 

“That’s—” He clears his throat. “T-t-that’s good.” 

I decide to make small talk to break the ice. “How’s school?” 

He shrugs. “Fine.” 

He’s a lot less talkative than I remember. 

Then again, I’d have no idea what to say to someone who lost their memory either. 

“I have something called retrograde amnesia,” I tell him, because I’m not sure what else to talk about.  

Concern lines his features. “I k-k-know.” 

An awkward silence stretches between us for what feels like forever and I can’t help but wonder why my favorite person suddenly feels like a stranger.  

“Are you mad at me?” 

I need to know why things feel so strange between us. 

Why he won’t look me in the eye. 

Why he looks so miserable right now.

Like he hates himself for being here.

Rocking back on his heels, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “No.” 

My heart sinks because the Liam I remember was a mush who would have wrapped me up in a big bear hug and assured me everything was fine. 

This Liam is detached and distant. 

Almost cold. 

Like he can’t stand to be near me.

Peering up at him, I study his face. 

He has the same sharp features, same ink-black hair, same green eyes, same pale skin with scars…wait a minute. 

“Your scars. They’re gone.” 

His eyes widen. “I-uh…I used a r-r-really good c-c-cream.” 

The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach intensifies. 

I might not remember most things, but I trust my instincts enough to know this feels all wrong. 

“Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you acting so different?” 

He crosses his arms. “I’m not acting different.” 

Liam looks as surprised as I feel when a sob breaks through the tension. 

Everything in my life is upside down, so I don’t know why I expected any less when it came to him.

Maybe it’s because I always thought of him as my constant, and therefore never figured our bond could be broken. 

But it is. 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. “I’m just really emo—” 

The hug comes then, but that feels different too.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

He sounds so earnest, I’m the one feeling bad now. 

“It’s not your fault. My emotions are all over the place lately.” I grab a tissue from the box. “I feel like someone stuck my life in a snow globe and shook it.”

Only instead of creating something enchanting and beautiful…it’s just one big, ugly mess. 

“I know everything sucks balls right now.” He kisses the top of my head. “But you are going to be fine.”

I wish I had the bright outlook he does. “I’m not so sure about that.” 

“Come on.” He grins. “You’re a Covington, dammit. We’re resilient assholes who survived the worst things imaginable then stood up and asked the universe if that was all they had because they hit like a little bitch.” 

I start to laugh…until it hits me. 

Not only is he not stuttering anymore, that sounds exactly like something Cole would say. 

I stare down at the logo on his t-shirt.

Liam doesn’t like sports, therefore he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a Patriots t-shirt. 

“You’re not Liam.” 

Cole has the good grace to look sheepish. “You’re right.” He blows out a breath. “I’m not.” 

I close my eyes against the surge of anger streaming through me. “Why the hell would you pretend to be—”

The door opens and the light flicks on. 

“Everything okay?” Jace questions, his gaze ping-ponging between us. 

Cole tries to speak, but I don’t give him the chance. 

“No, it’s not.” I glare at Cole. “Cole tricked me into thinking he was Liam.” 

Jace looks like it’s taking every ounce of his strength not to walk over and throttle him. “You did what?” Eyes narrowed, he takes a step closer. “Why the fuck would you do that?” 

Muttering a curse, Cole pinches the bridge of his nose. “I was only trying to help—”

“Help? How the fuck is pretending to be Liam going to help her recover?” Jace roars. “I told you we needed to listen to the doctors.”

Well, shit. Jace seems mad enough for the both of us. 

However, I don’t need him to fight this battle for me because while I don’t understand why he pretended to be his twin; it’s obvious Cole meant no harm. 

I’m about to tell them both to calm down, but Cole grunts, “I know we’re supposed to listen to the doctors, but she was really upset earlier. I thought…I don’t know. I was just trying to give her a little normal before—”

“Before what?” I question, because it’s clear I’ve been left in the dark about something. 

Or rather, someone. 

“Where’s Liam?” 

“Good job, asshole,” Jace mutters before he looks at me. “Everything is fine.”  

“Don’t lie to me.” I look at Cole. “Why were you pretending to be Liam?”

Jace shoots him a murderous glare. “Hallway. Now.” 

“No,” I snap. “So help me God one of you better tell me wh—” 

Pain pulses through my temples. It’s so severe, it renders me breathless.

Something’s wrong. 

Jace is saying something, but I don’t hear him.

I’m too scared. 

I pound on the tray table. “Let me in!”

Past…

“What’s going on?” I scream, the fear nearly crippling me.  

“Go downstairs and call 911!” Jace yells on the other side of Liam’s bedroom door. 

I’m so scared I can barely breathe. 

What happened to him?

Heart and stomach full of terror, I run down the staircase on unsteady legs and make a beeline for the phone in the kitchen. 

My fingers shake so bad, I drop the phone before punching in the numbers. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” some lady on the other line answers.

“I need—” My voice is so jittery I can barely speak. 

I clear my throat and try again. “I need an ambulance for my brother.” Remembering the time Mom spent two whole days teaching me our address in case of an emergency, I quickly add, “We live at 101 Royal Manor Lane. Please come quick.” 

“Got it. Can you tell me what happened, sweetie?” 

Didn’t she hear me before? 

“Something is wrong with my brother. He’s twelve.” 

“Okay, honey. An ambulance is on the way. Do you know what happened so I can tell the EMTs?”

“I don’t know,” I scream. “No one will tell me. Please hurry.”