best way to get her warm quick when she stiffens, listening carefully to voices in the hall. She puts a finger to her lips, asking me to be quiet. I hear a baby crying and what is most likely the baby’s parents talking, but I can’t make out who it is or what they’re saying. There’s a couple of babies and a toddler (who can still wail like a baby when she wants to) staying at the palace.
After they pass, she relaxes. “My sister and her family. She always goes by my room on her way up to hers.”
“And you don’t want to see her?”
“I don’t want her to see me like this.” Her voice chokes, and my chest tightens. Something happened to her, and all I want to do is make it better. “I just can’t deal with any more drama today, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s my big sister, but she raised me, so she’s like my mom. She’ll make a big deal.”
What happened to her parents?
She takes off my jacket and hands it back. “Thanks. I’m going to get changed. I’m at the end of the hall.”
“Sure you don’t need some help?”
“I’m fine.” She opens the door, peeks out, and quickly shuts it. “She’s knocking on my door.”
“Do you want me to tell her you went somewhere?”
She pulls her phone from her back jeans pocket. “I’ll text her I’m studying in the library.” She stares at her phone for a long moment, seeming to be reading a text, bites her lower lip, and texts rapidly.
Her expression caves, her teeth chattering again. I put my jacket back around her shoulders and glimpse a text over her shoulder. I need to not see you for a while, okay?
I step away. That doesn’t sound like something an older sister would say. It sounds like a guy cutting her loose.
After a few moments, she lets out a shuddering breath and lifts her head. “All s-set.” Then she just stands there, clutching my jacket around her, looking lost.
“Go take a hot shower in my bathroom. You’re gonna catch a chill.” I head for my dresser and pull out a long-sleeved cotton shirt and jogging pants. I jerk my chin for her to follow. “Come on. I’ve got a warm change of clothes for you.”
I turn the water on, hoping she follows. I really don’t think she should wait any longer to warm up. Besides, I want to talk to her to make sure she’s okay and see if there’s anything I can do to help.
“Thanks,” she says softly, stepping into the bathroom. She left my jacket behind, and she looks so small and vulnerable in her soaking wet state, shivering, her expression strained. I just want to scoop her up and battle the world back so nothing bothers her again. I’m not usually so heroic, but something about her brings that out in me.
“I’ll go,” I say, realizing I’m keeping her from the shower.
While Chloe showers, I finish getting dressed. Christmas dinner is in the formal dining room, which means you have to wear a blazer, dress shirt, and dress pants. I draw the line at a tie. Ties and I don’t get along. It always feels like I’m one step away from a noose.
I take a seat on the gray sofa in the sitting room of my suite, prop my feet up on the coffee table, and pull out my phone. A while later, I hear the hair dryer—this place comes fully stocked for guests—and realize she’s almost ready. I try to think of how to get her talking. It belatedly occurs to me she could have cuts that need attention. It looks like she fell. Did she get thrown from a car? A motorcycle? A bike? Those are very different levels of injury. And what happened to her shoes?
I hear the bathroom door open, and a few moments later she appears in front of me. She’s drowning in my clothes, even with the shirtsleeves rolled up and the jogging pants rolled at the ankles. It’s comical but also damn cute.
She holds out her arms and smiles. My heart thumps harder. She’s beautiful when she smiles. It lights up her face. “I know I look ridiculous, but I feel so much better, thanks.”
“No problem. You wanna tell me what happened? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Her smile drops. “I’ll survive.”
I gesture to the sofa. “Have a seat.”
“I should go.”
I stand. “You sure you’re okay?”
She raises her palms, the long sleeves hanging low under her arms like