“Can I touch him?” I ask the paramedic.

He nods. “He’s sedated.”

I lace my fingers with Jace’s larger ones, noting the green staining the skin. I lean forward, so that I’m close enough to him no one else in the close confines of the ambulance will be able to hear the words I’ve wanted to say to him for a lot longer than I care to admit.

“I love you, Jace.” I lean back, but continue holding his hand, feeling the tears slip silently down my cheeks. I thought I was protecting us both by holding those words back, but keeping them contained brought about their own pain. And they’re words he deserved to hear.

We arrive at the hospital to a flurry of activity. More reporters are lingering outside the emergency room entrance, but I ignore them as I rush after Jace’s gurney into the hospital.

“Twenty-two-year-old male with head trauma…”

I tune out the medical jargon that follows, turning to one of the doctors that’s come over to examine Jace. “Is he going to be all right?”

“Ma’am, we’re going to take him to do some tests. Are you family?”

“Yes,” I lie.

The doctor eyes me dubiously, but decides not to argue with me. It’s a wise choice. I can be unpleasant to deal with when I’m in the best of moods. I’m far from that right now.

“Okay, we’ll have someone come find you as soon as we know more,” the doctor tells me before following the nurses wheeling Jace farther into the hospital. A sob bursts out of me, and I feel a gentle hand rest on my back.

“He’ll be fine, Princess,” Thomas comforts. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to see where we should wait.”

Thomas walks over to the front desk, where I see the woman from the Sharks has arrived and stands speaking with a couple of nurses. The man who was with her previously has also arrived and looks over at me. Thomas joins their conversation for a few minutes, then returns and guides me down the hallway into a carpeted room lined with about twenty chairs. I sink into one and rest my head in my hands.

I hear Thomas take the seat next to me as I study the fibers that comprise the faded carpet.

“I didn’t—I never—I never told him how I felt…how I feel,” I admit in a whisper. More tears streak down my face, coating my hands with salty liquid. “Now he might never know.”

“I’m sure he knows, Princess,” Thomas comforts me. After a moment, he adds, “You’re quite skilled at hiding your emotions regarding everything…except him.”

We sit in silence, until the door opens and I glance up to see my parents enter the room along with their entourage of security. The Vanderbilts follow them inside, glancing around the waiting room.

“What on earth is going on, Vivienne?” my mother demands as soon as the door shuts. I’ve never heard her sound so angry, and the Vanderbilts all shift uncomfortably at the sound of her furious voice. They choose to take seats against the far wall of the waiting room. “This behavior is absolutely unacceptable. Are you having a sort of nervous breakdown? You can’t just run off like that, and then to come here of all places? In front of the American press? We had to pass through dozens of them to get in here. Is there something wrong with you? Do you need medical attention?”