Broken Prince: A Novel (The Royals Book 2)

by Erin Watt

  “Rachel.” He grins sheepishly. “And her friend Dana.”

  I snicker. “Guess you shouldn’t have smashed up your Porsche last night, then. But you did, and now you’re stuck being my bitch boy until you have wheels again.”

  He gives me the finger. “I’m late for a threesome because of you, Royal. I’ll never forgive you.”

  “I’m crying a river.” I leave the keys in the engine and open the door. “Wait here. I won’t be long.”

  “You better not be.”

  The bakery is surprisingly deserted when I stride inside. Usually it’s packed around this time, but I spot only a couple of Astor Park kids, plus a trio of old ladies at a table in the corner.

  Ella’s former boss frowns as I approach the counter. “Mr. Royal,” she says politely. “How can I help you?”

  I take an awkward breath. “I’m here to apologize.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “I see. I’ll be honest—you don’t strike me as the type of boy who knows the meaning of that word.”

  “Trust me, I know how to say I’m sorry.” I offer a rueful smile. “I’m pretty sure those are the only two words I’ve been saying lately.”

  That gets me a reluctant smile in return.

  “Look, it’s my fault Ella ran off,” I explain in a rush. “I don’t know if she told you, but she and I were sort of going out.”

  Lucy nods. “She didn’t tell me, but I knew she was seeing someone. That last week before she left, I’d never seen her look happier.”

  Guilt arrows through me. Yeah, Ella had been happy. Until I took that happiness and turned it into something ugly. Like I always do.

  “I messed up.” I force myself to man up and look Lucy in the eye. “Ella wasn’t sick. She ran away because I didn’t leave her any other choice. But I’m telling you right now—she feels terrible about letting you down.”

  “Did she send you here to tell me that?” Lucy asks, frowning again.

  I choke out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? She’d kill me if she knew I was here. Have you ever met anyone with more pride than Ella Harper?”

  Lucy presses her lips together as if fighting back a laugh.

  “She loved this job,” I say earnestly. “Everyone in my family, myself included, didn’t want her to work. It’s, uh, a status thing.” I’m a prick. We rich people are the worst, I realize. “But she took the job anyway, because that’s the kind of person Ella is. She doesn’t like accepting handouts or sitting on her ass all day like everyone else at Astor Park. And she really liked having you as her boss.”

  “I enjoyed having her here,” Lucy says grudgingly. “But. That doesn’t change the fact that she left me short-handed for more than two weeks.”

  “My fault,” I repeat. “Seriously, I take all the blame for this. And I feel sick about it, too. I hate that I cost her a job she really cared about. So I’m asking you to reconsider firing her. Please.”

  “I’ve already hired a replacement, Reed. I can’t afford to take on two employees.”

  Disappointment fills my gut. “Oh. I understand.”

  “But…”

  Just like that, I feel a burst of hope. “But what?”

  “Kenneth is only able to work afternoons,” Lucy says, and it’s obvious she’s not thrilled with that. “I haven’t been able to find anyone who can fill the five-thirty a.m. shifts that Ella used to do.” She smiles. “Not many teenagers want to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Ella does,” I say instantly. “Her work ethic is intense. You know that.”

  Lucy looks thoughtful. “Yes, I guess I do know that.”

  I rest both hands against the counter and eye her hopefully. “So you’ll give her another shot?”

  She doesn’t answer right away. Then she says, “I’ll think about it.”

  Since that’s all I can ask for, I shake her hand, thank her for her time, and leave the bakery with a smile on my face.

  For the first time since the engagement and pregnancy news, our house is Brooke-free. Brooke and her evil henchwoman, Dinah, are going to Paris for two weeks to look for a wedding dress. When Dad tells us the news, the twins release a happy whoop. Our father glares at them, then announces that we’re all having dinner together on the patio. I shrug and head outside, because as long as Brooke and Dinah aren’t eating with us, I’ve got no issues with dinner.

  Our housekeeper, Sandra, places two huge casserole dishes on the patio table, which is already set for seven. “I’m heading out now,” she tells Callum. “But I left enough food in the freezer to last you boys until the end of the weekend.”

  “Aw, Sandy, no. You’re going on vacation again?” Sawyer asks in dismay.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it a vacation.” She sighs. “My sister just had a baby and I’m going to San Francisco to help her out for a week. I foresee many sleepless nights in my future.”

  “Take as much time as you need,” Dad says with a warm smile. “An extra week, if you need it.”

  Sandra snorts. “Uh-huh, and then I’ll come back and find out that these two,” she gestures at the twins, “tried to burn down my kitchen again.” Her tone firms. “I’ll see you all next week, Royals.”

  Dad chuckles as the plump, dark-haired woman marches to the back door. Voices waft out of the kitchen, and then Ella hurries out the French doors.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she says breathlessly. “I was on the phone.” She slides into the seat next to Callum’s. “You won’t believe who called me!”

  Dad gives her an indulgent smile. I, on the other hand, am hiding my grin, because I don’t want to give anything away. But I’m pretty sure I know who called.

  “Lucy!” Her blue eyes dance with excitement. “She’s willing to give me a second chance at the bakery. Can you believe that?”

  “Really?” I say blandly. “That’s great news.”

  From the corner of my eye, I notice East shooting me a strange look, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “It’s news, all right,” Dad says in an unhappy voice.

  Ella frowns at him. “You’re not happy that I got my job back?”

  “I never wanted you to have a job in the first place,” he grumbles. “I’d like it if you focused all your time on your studies.”

  “Are we back to this again?” She sighs loudly and reaches for the serving spoon. “I’m perfectly capable of holding a job and going to school at the same time. Now who wants lasagna?”

  “Me,” the twins say in unison.

  As Ella serves up food for everyone, I notice that my father and brothers are watching her every move. The twins are smiling. Dad looks pleased. East seems upset, though. Is he not glad that Ella’s back? He lost his freaking mind after she ran, so shouldn’t her presence make him happy?

  “Why so quiet, East?” Dad prompts once we all start eating.

  My brother shrugs. “Got nothing to say.”

  The twins snicker. “Since when?” Seb cracks.

  Another shrug.

  “Is everything okay with you?” Dad pushes.

  “Uh-huh. Everything’s A-okay in Easton Land.”

  His cheerful tone worries me. I know my brother. I know he’s hurting right now, and when he’s hurting, he gets out of control. After Mom died, he hit the bottle hard. Then he started with the oxy. The gambling. The brawls. The never-ending stream of hookups.

  Gideon and I managed to rein him in. We flushed the pills down the toilet. I started fighting more so I could keep an eye on him when he was down at the docks. I thought we’d gotten him under control, but now he’s spiraling again, and it kills me to see it.

  Dad gives up on East and turns to Sawyer. “I haven’t seen Lauren around lately. Did you two break up?”

  “Nah, we’re still together.”

  That’s all Sawyer is willing to share on that subject, and Dad once again hits a wall. “Reed? Easton?” he prompts. “How’s the season going? I’m hoping to catch the game this Friday. I’ve already asked Dottie to clear my schedule.
”

  I can’t hide my surprise. Dad used to come to all our games when Mom was alive—they’d sit behind the home bench together and cheer like maniacs—but ever since she died, he hasn’t stepped foot in the stadium. It’s like he just stopped caring. Or maybe he never cared to begin with, and Mom was the one who dragged him to the games.

  Beside me, East is equally skeptical. “What’s your angle?”

  Dad’s expression collapses. I think he might be genuinely hurt. “No angle,” he says tightly. “It’s just been a while since I’ve seen my boys play.”

  East snorts.

  An uncomfortable silence falls over the table, until Ella finally breaks it in a tentative voice. “Callum,” she starts. “Can we talk after dinner?”

  “Of course. What about?”

  She stares down at her plate. “Um. About my…inheritance. I had some questions for you about it.”

  “Of course,” he says again, but this time his expression is brighter.

  The rest of dinner passes quickly. Afterward, the twins disappear into the game room, while Ella and my dad duck into his study. That leaves me and East to clean up. Normally, we’d be trying to make the task less boring by cracking jokes and talking about bullshit, but East doesn’t say a word as we load the dishwater and shove the leftovers in the fridge.

  Fuck. I miss my brother. We’ve hardly spoken since Ella came back. Hell, we were barely speaking before that. I hate it. My life feels unbalanced when East and I are on the outs.

  He closes the fridge and stalks toward the doorway, but I stop him before he can leave the kitchen. “East,” I say roughly.

  He slowly turns around. “What?”

  “We ever gonna be cool again?”

  Either I imagine it, or I glimpse a flicker of remorse in his eyes. But it’s gone before I can be sure. “I need a smoke,” he mutters.

  My chest sags in defeat as he turns away again. But he doesn’t walk out. He speaks without looking at me. “You coming?”

  I hurry after him, hoping my eagerness doesn’t show. But hell, this is the first time he’s wanted to be around me in ages.

  We leave the house through the side door and walk out to the carport. “Where we going?” I ask.

  “Nowhere.” East flicks the back latch of his pickup, then hops up to sit on the truck bed. He fishes a small tin out of his pocket, flips it open, and pulls out a neatly rolled joint and a lighter.

  After a beat, I hop up beside him.

  He lights up and takes a long hit, then speaks through the curls of smoke that seep from his lips. “You got Ella her job back.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Wade.” He passes me the joint. “I went over to his place after school.”

  “Thought he had a threesome lined up.”

  “Turned into a foursome.”

  I exhale a cloud of smoke. “Yeah? I thought you were only interested in tapping Royal exes these days.”

  He simply shrugs. “Nobody ever said I was smart.”

  “Nobody ever said you were vindictive, either,” I point out quietly. “I get it. You’re pissed at me, and that’s why you made a move on Abby. But Savannah? You know Gid’s not over her.”

  East has the decency to look guilty. “Wasn’t thinking of Gid when I hit on Sav,” he admits. “Wasn’t thinking at all, actually.”

  I hand the joint back. “You gonna be honest and tell Gid about it?”

  My brother offers a harsh smile. “I’ll be honest with Gid when he decides to be honest with me.”

  What the hell does that mean? I don’t touch the comment, though, because I didn’t come out here to fix East’s relationship with Gideon. I came out here to save my relationship with East.

  “I was wrong,” I tell him.

  He wrinkles his forehead. “Wrong about what?”

  “Everything.” I grab the joint and take a deep pull that leaves me light-headed. On the exhalation, I blurt out every bone-headed move I’ve made this year. “I shouldn’t have hooked up with Brooke. Shouldn’t have hid it from you. Shouldn’t have hid it from Ella.” The weed loosens not just the cobwebs in my head, but my tongue. “It’s my fault she ran off. I drove her away.”

  “Yeah. You did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “I know it scared you when she left. It hurt you.” I turn to study his tense profile, and I tense up too as something occurs to me. “Do you love her?” I ask hoarsely.

  His head whirls toward me. “No.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I don’t. Not the way you do.”

  I relax, just slightly. “Still. You care about her.”

  Of course he does. We all do, because that girl flew into our house like a whirlwind and made everything come alive again. She brought steel and fire. She made us laugh again. She gave us a purpose—at first, it was us uniting against her. Then it turned into us standing beside her. Protecting her. Loving her.

  “She made me happy.”

  Helplessly, I nod. “I know.”

  “And then she left. She left us and she didn’t look back. Like…”

  Like Mom, I finish for him, and a jolt of agony arrows through my chest.

  “Whatever,” East mumbles. “It’s no biggie, okay? She’s back now, so it’s all good.”

  He’s lying. I can tell he’s still terrified that Ella might pack up and leave again.

  It terrifies me, too. Ella’s barely spoken to me since the night we kissed. The night she cried. Cried so hard that it broke my fucking heart. I don’t know how to make it better with her. I don’t know how to make it better for East. Or for Gideon.

  But what I do know is that this isn’t just about Ella. Easton’s abandonment issues run deeper than that.

  “Mom’s not coming back,” I force myself to say.

  “No shit, Reed. She’s goddamn dead.” Easton starts to laugh, but it’s a hard, humorless sound. “I killed her.”

  Jesus. “How many joints did you smoke today, little brother? ’Cause you’re talking crazy right now.”

  His eyes are grim. “Nah, I’ve never been saner.” Another laugh pops out, but we both know he’s not getting amusement out of any of this. “Mom would still be here if it weren’t for me.”

  “That’s not true, East.”

  “Yeah, it is.” He takes a quick drag. Blows out another gray cloud. “It was my oxy, man. She took it and OD’d.”

  I look over sharply. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “She found my stash. A few days before she died. She was in my room putting away some laundry, and the shit was in my sock drawer and she found it. Confronted me, confiscated it, and threatened to send me to rehab if she ever caught me with ’scrips again. I figured she flushed the pills, but…” He shrugs.

  “East…” I trail off. Does he really believe this? Has he believed it for two whole years? I draw a slow breath. “Mom didn’t OD on oxy.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Dad said she did.”

  “That was just one of the things she was on. I saw the tox report. She died of a whole combination of shit. And even if it was just oxy, you know she could’ve easily gotten her own prescription.” I snatch the joint from his lax hand and suck deeply on it. “Besides, we both know it was my fault. You said it yourself—I’m the one who killed her.”

  “I said that to hurt you.”

  “Worked.”

  Easton studies my profile. “Why’d you think it was you?”

  Shame crawls up my spine. “Just felt like I wasn’t enough,” I admit. “I knew you were hooked on pills. I knew something was wrong with Gid. Night before she died, she and Dad argued over a fight I got in. My fighting bugged her. I liked it too much. She knew that and she hated it. I… I was just added stress for her.”

  “You’re not the reason she died. She was messed up way before that.”

  “Yeah? Well, you’re not the reason either.”

  We go quiet for se
veral moments. It’s awkward now, and my skin is starting to itch. Royals don’t sit around talking about their feelings. We bury them. Pretend nothing touches us.

  East taps out the joint and tucks the roach into his little tin. “I’m going inside,” he mumbles. “Turning in early.”

  It’s barely eight o’clock, but I don’t question him. “’Night,” I say.

  He pauses near the side door. “You wanna ride to practice tomorrow?”

  I almost choke on a sudden rush of happiness. Fuck, I’m a sappy loser, but…we haven’t ridden together in weeks. “Sure. See you in the morning.”

  He disappears into the house. I stay seated on his truck, but my joy and relief are short-lived. I always knew I’d fix stuff with East. I expect to fix things with Ella, too. And the twins. Gid. My brothers never stay pissed at me for long, no matter how royally I screw up.

  But sitting here trading confessions with East reminds me that I’m still keeping a secret from my dad. Worse, I was so desperate to make sure that secret stayed hidden that I actually encouraged him to bring Brooke back into our lives.

  I suddenly feel like hurling, and it has nothing to do with emotions or all the weed I smoked. Brooke’s back because I was too chickenshit to own up to my mistakes. Why didn’t I just tell her to screw off? So what if she tells the world that I’m the father of her kid? One DNA test and her story would go up in flames.

  Instead, I made a deal with her. I urged my father to take her back just so he wouldn’t find out what I did. So Ella wouldn’t find out. But Ella knows the truth now. And…I take a breath…maybe it’s time Dad knew the truth, too.

  23

  Ella

  After a pointless and frustrating conversation with Callum, I stomp upstairs and throw myself on the bed. Callum is ticked off that I got a job and that I want to give my inheritance back. He lectured me for twenty minutes about it before I interrupted by asking him if he’s trying to control me because he can’t control his sons. That went over really well.

  I don’t get what the big deal is. It’s my inheritance, isn’t it? And I don’t want it. As long as I have Steve’s money, people like Dinah and Brooke will always be trying to take it from me. So let them. What do I care?