Page 24 of Defying the Crown
Caleb’s beanie slipped sideways as he tilted his head. "He know about what happened with Alex?"
My mouth went dry but the words kept coming, sharp and raw like picking at a half-healed scab. "Yeah, he knows everything. Not just the Alex-shaped dumpster fire.' My fingers found the edge of my sleeve, twisting the worn fabric. 'The hospital stay. The...' I made a jagged slash motion across my left forearm, thumbnail catching too hard on skin. 'The Bad Year™."
Jayda's iced coffee hit the table with a clatter. "Danny, Jesus—"
Caleb froze mid-sip, his chai latte suspended halfway to the chipped lipstick stain on the mug's rim. I watched understanding click through them both like a padlock snapping shut—Jayda's manicured hand flying to her mouth, Caleb's Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed wrong.
The old scars itched beneath my sweater. I forced a shrug, pulse hammering where the zipper of my hoodie dug into my collarbone. "Relax, it's not like I showed him the scar collection. Yet." The joke landed like a lead balloon, my voice cracking on the last syllable. Across the room, the radiator hissed like it was laughing at me.
The radiator's metallic laughter followed me into the kitchenette. I kept my back to them as I yanked the coffee bag out of the cabinet—beans scattering across the counter like retreating cockroaches. The machine beeped its usual protest when I slammed the portafilter too hard.
Jayda's bare feet scuffed against the linoleum as she followed me tentatively. I braced for the interrogation, but her arms circled my waist instead, chin hooking over my shoulder. Her vanilla-scented curls tickled my neck.
"No disappearing into your head, okay?" Her hug tightened, trapping my arms against my sides. "Just wanted you to know...it’s good. The scary kind of good. If you feel safe enough to share that with him, then he must be the real deal."
My thumbnail found a groove in the coffee grinder. "Good like kombucha or...?"
"Good like watching anime intros without skipping." She released me to spin the mug carousel, plucking out the chipped #1 Barista one from her old job. "Had to spill your darkest trauma to get me finally doing that."
The coffee maker shrieked while I fussed over a brew I had no real desire for. My mind wandered to my conversation with Harald yesterday evening, and unexpected thrill rushed through me at the prospect of his physical visit.
Jayda noticed my change in mood, and her reflection appeared in the chrome. "You’re smiling."
"Am not."
"You’ve got that post-crush glow. Like when Caleb discovered artisanal pickles."
"Hey!" Caleb lobbed the fallen pillow at her. "Those pickles revolutionized my charcuterie boards."
I stared at the crema swirling in my cup. "Harald’s different. Listens like he’s actuallyinterestedinstead of waiting for his turn to trauma-dump."
Jayda hip-checked me away from the machine. "Okay, lover boy. Let’s get pancakes in you before you float away."
Caleb snapped his fingers. "Extra syrup for the human Disney princess."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Three rapid vibrations—Harald’s signature text pattern. I let it ring out, savoring the secret and grab my phone to see what he sent.
Jayda's eyes track my movements across the screen. "You seem serious all of a sudden," she observes, making me realize I'm probably wearing it all over my face like a neon sign.
"Maybe." The truth catches in my throat like a hairball. "I just... he says he is coming here today." I pause, running my fingers nervously through my messy curls. "He wants to meet up."
Caleb stands, moving toward me with that signature mix of warmth and protective intensity that only someone who truly cares about you can do. He places a hand on my shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, dude. Whatever happens, happens." His voice is steady but his eyes hold something else – concern wrapped in care.
Jayda joins us, sliding her arm around my waist. "And if he's the one who makes you as happy as Caleb does for me," she winks, "then that's pretty damn good news."
I nod, still staring at Harald's latest message: "Can't wait to see you in person, for real" The words make something twist in my chest, somewhere between fear and hope.
Chapter 10
Harald
"Get it moving, please!" I drummed my fingers on the marble bar top as the jet crew finalized preparations. The royal insignia gleamed on every surface—mocking me, declaring my importance while I fidgeted like an impatient child. My nerves were frayed at the edges, anxiety coiling in my stomach like a restless serpent. Father would call this behavior beneath my station, another disappointment to add to his mental tally of my failings. But I couldn't help it. Every minute spent in this gilded cage of privilege only tightened the invisible noose around my neck. I watched the ground crew scurrying about outside the window, envying their simple purpose and clear direction—something I'd never truly had despite the crown that awaited me.
Erik raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness, these safety protocols exist for a reason."
"I know, I know." I ran my hand through my hair, messing up the careful styling my personal groomer had insisted upon this morning. "It's just..."
Just that Daniel was waiting. Daniel with his messy morning hair and infectious laugh that made my chest tighten with something I hadn't felt in years. Daniel who knew me as Harald, just Harald, not the Crown Prince of Denmark with all the crushing expectations that title carried—who'd helped me through that anxiety-inducing speech without even knowing it. Who'd texted me simple encouragements thinking I was just nervous about some corporate presentation, not realizing his words were steadying my hands before I addressed diplomats and dignitaries. In those moments with him, I could breathe. I could be someone other than the carefully constructed public figure my father had molded me to be.
