I spin around and look for something she can barf into. I see nothing but a discarded lunch tray with most of the food uneaten. I shove it on her lap just in time. She tries to retch onto the tray, but it gets messy. Tears stream down her pale face.

I curse and press the call button. “Hartley Wright needs some help in here.”

I dart into the bathroom and grab some towels that I use to wipe her face with. She cries harder.

“What can I do?” I plead. “Do you want some water? Should I carry you to the shower?”

“Go. Just, please go,” she gasps out.

The door to the room bursts open as the round-cheeked nurse rushes in. A serious expression has replaced her jolly one. She spears me with a heated look. “You can leave now, Mr. Royal.”

The nurse calls for backup and soon the room is filled with people pushing me out of the way as they try to help Hartley. I stand there like an idiot, with wet towels in my hands as sheets are pulled off and washcloths are applied. An orderly grabs me by the shoulder. “Sorry, buddy, but we’re going to have to ask you to go. Patient needs some treatment.”

“But I—”

“Nope,” he doesn’t let me finish, and somehow I find myself in the hall staring at the closed door with the dirty towels still in my hand.

“Did you have a nice visit with your girlfriend?” a viper says behind me.

I spin around and scowl at Felicity Worthington. “What are you doing here?”

She shoots me a fake smile. “My grandmother broke her hip and she’s here recovering from surgery. She might die because of her old age and brittle bones, but thanks for asking.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. Of course, I’d mess this up too. I shift uncomfortably, and the odor of vomit rises up between us.

“You smell like you took a bath in day-old moonshine and puke. Haven’t you showered since the accident?”

I take a sniff. Shit, I do reek. Is that what made Hartley sick? I ball the towels up. There are showers next to the waiting room. I might as well make use of those. Then I can go back and apologize to Hartley.

“What have you been doing?” Felicity dogs my steps.

“Thanks for your non-genuine concern, but I’ve been worried about Hartley and my brother.”

“When he does wake up, he’ll be sent back into his coma the minute he catches wind of you.” She waves a hand in front of her face. “I can’t believe I seriously considered you boyfriend material. You’re foulmouthed and foul-smelling. Gross.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a shit.”

She wrinkles her nose and drops back. “I’d tell you to shower before you go see Hartley again, but it probably won’t matter. She still won’t know who you are.” She gives me a smirk and starts to turn away.

How the hell does Felicity know what went on in Hartley’s room? I grab her by the shoulder and spin her around. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Ugh, stop touching me.” She shrugs my hand off.

“Repeat what you just said,” I demand.

“You didn’t hear?” she asks with saccharine sweetness. “Your girl has amnesia. She doesn’t remember a thing, including how your entire family would like to see her blotted off the face of the earth. But don’t worry, sugar, because I set her straight.”

“You set her straight?” I seethe. If Felicity so much as stepped foot in that room to fill Hart’s head with a truckload of lies, I’m going to choke her until all her diamonds fall off.

“Are you still drunk? My God, I bet you are. This is hilarious. I bet you scared the pants off of her. A big, stinking hulk like you in her room declaring your undying love.” As I grind my back teeth into fine dust, Felicity laughs with genuine, evil delight. “I didn’t realize Santa was bringing one of my Christmas presents early.” She skips down the hall, her long hair waving like a flag behind her.

The fucking injustice of it, I seethe. I haven’t drank since the night of the accident. As I rein in the urge to go tackle her, I hear the doors behind me open and close. I twist and catch a glimpse of an angry nurse stomping down the hall. I run after her.

“No visitors right now,” she says, anticipating my question.

“Fine, but what’s wrong with her?”

“She’s suffering from short-term memory loss, and whatever the two of you were talking about in there triggered a vestibular disorder that caused her to vomit. Doc Joshi told you to let her remember at her own pace.”

“I didn’t say anything…” But I trail off, because I did. I held her hand. I kissed her fingertips. I told her that I’d been worried out of my skull for her.

The nurse pounces on my hesitation. “Whatever you did say made her sick, so be careful next time or we won’t be able to keep letting you into her room.”

“Right,” I grit out and let her go. I want to shout but the nurse already dislikes me so I can’t give her more reasons to keep me out of Hart’s room. I try to gather my thoughts and focus. First things first. Hart’s ill. She needs me to be strong for her. Seb’s in a coma. He needs me to keep it together. I tell myself to breathe. I’ve got to focus on the positive. Everyone’s alive. Sure, they’re banged up, but they’re all breathing. This is going to work out.