Page 38 of Shameless Royalty

I hear the door creak open, but I don’t bother looking up. It’s him.It’s always him.The heavy thud of his boots against the floor is unmistakable, and even if it wasn’t, who else would it be? He’s the only one who ever comes in here for no reason.

I stay curled up on the bed, my knees pulled up to my chest, my gaze fixed on the floor. The air feels heavier with him in the room, like his presence takes up all the oxygen. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, probably watching me with that infuriating smirk he always wears.

But this time, he doesn’t call me Babyface. He doesn’t say something sarcastic to rile me up. Instead, he crouches down, sitting back on his haunches next to the bed, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“What’s wrong, Malachi?” he asks, his voice softer than I expected.

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. My throat feels tight and the feeling in my chest is heavier than ever.

“Malachi,” he says again, more insistent this time. “Come on, talk to me. Did someone say somethin’? Did I… do somethin’?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head again. I don’t want to talk. Not to him, not to anyone.

“Jaysus, Malachi,” he mutters, and then I feel his fingers brush against my forehead. He swipes the hair out of my eyes, his touch gentle despite the frustration in his tone. “At least look at me.”

I don’t. I can’t. But when his hand lingers, his palm warm against my temple, I find myself leaning into the touch. The tension in my shoulders eases just slightly, and I let out a soft sigh before I can stop myself.

Connor’s breath catches, but he doesn’t pull away. “Hey,” he says softly, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin. “Talk to me. Please.”

When I still don’t respond, he shifts, sitting more fully on the edge of the bed. “Look,” he says, his words coming faster now, like he’s trying to fill the silence. “I’m sorry, alright? For leavin’ you alone. I didn’t think you’d even notice, let alone care, but I guess I was wrong, and—fuck—I should’ve known better. I just thought maybe you’d want the space, or that I’d…”

I close my eyes, listening as he keeps talking, his voice laced with guilt. He thinks this is his fault. The thought hits me like a punch, but I can’t bring myself to interrupt him. Not yet.

“…and maybe I fucked up,” he’s saying now, his words spilling out in a rush. “I mean, clearly I did because, look at you. I just—damn it, Malachi—I didn’t mean to—”

“Connor,” I say quietly, cutting him off.

He freezes mid-sentence, his mouth snapping shut as his eyes dart to mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the rain filling the silence between us.

“It’s not you,” I say finally, and look at his blurry form. “This isn’t… it’s not about you.”

His brows furrow, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Bullshite.”

“It’s not,” I insist, sitting up slowly. “I’m just… feeling down. It happens. It’s not your fault.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I say, the word sharper than I mean it to be. I run a hand through my hair, sighing. “You think everythin’’s about you, don’t you?”

His lips twitch into a faint smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, isn’t it?”

“Not this time,” I mutter, shaking my head. “This is just…me.”

He leans back slightly, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. “So, what do we do about it?”

I blink, caught off guard by the question. “Wedon’t do anythin’.”

His brows draw together, like that answer personally offends him. “The fuck do you mean,‘we don’t do anythin’’?”

I exhale sharply, dragging my hands over my face. “I mean exactly that. You don’t get to care, Connor. You don’t get to give a shit about why I’m like this, not when you’re part of the reason.”

His whole body stiffens. “Part of the reason? What the fuck?”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. Only when I finally look at him properly, do I realize how close he is. He’s alltensed-up arrogance and frustration, like he actually doesn’t understand. Like he hasn’t thought this through.

“Are you serious?” I scoff. “You kidnapped me. Why do you even care?”

“I just do,” he mutters.

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