It’s evening before they let anyone see her. There are very strict rules, two at a time, no one can stay for more than a few minutes.

She hasn’t woken up. Meaning that she’s now officially in a coma, not still simply out from anesthetic. Meaning that they don’t know when or if Aurora is going to wake, or what she’s going to be like if she does.

She could have brain damage so irreparable that she’ll be a vegetable forever. She could have reverted to having the mind of a five-year-old. Until she wakes up — if she wakes up — we won’t know any of the answers.

Her parents see her first, the doctor escorting them from the lavish waiting room. I’m sitting in a chair, elbows on my knees, staring at the carpet.

I should have done something I think, over and over again.

Not that I know what the fuck I could have done — she was safe in the car, seatbelt buckled and everything, just a freak accident — but I somehow feel responsible for Aurora, so guilty I can barely see straight.

Maybe if I hadn’t kept her up late most nights.

Maybe if I hadn’t sneaked into the limo for just one more taste.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

After a bit, Stefan starts fussing. Mechanically, Ella grabs him and starts feeding him, staring off emptily into space as she does. The King and Queen come back — the King’s eyes filled with tears, the Queen openly sobbing.

Grayson stands. He looks at Ella. Ella looks down at Stefan, still breastfeeding, then nods at me.

My gut clenches, like a lead weight’s been dropped into my stomach, and suddenly I don’t want to go. I don’t want to see Aurora unconscious on a hospital bed, tubes sticking out of her. I don’t know what to say to her, in front of Grayson.

But I stand. I follow Grayson to the door, down the hall. We both stand outside Aurora’s room for a long moment, listening to the beeping coming from outside, both steeling ourselves in different ways.

And finally, we go in.

It hits me hard. Harder than I expected, like a baseball bat to the chest, the air rushing out of me. She looks smaller than I thought possible, more fragile, lying on the bed like a broken bird. Her arms are by her sides, obviously placed there, an IV dripping into each one.

There’s a tube going into her nose, a brace around her neck, and the right half of her face is swollen and scratched so much that she’s nearly unrecognizable. Grayson and I stand there, frozen.

I want to go to her, take her hand, talk to her, tell her everything is going to be okay. Beg her to wake up.

But I’m afraid. I’m afraid that bumping even one of those tubes or monitors could spell absolute disaster, that somehow, I’d be the one to finish destroying the love of my life.

“Can she hear us?” Grayson asks the nurse, his voice rough with tears.

“We’re not sure,” the nurse says. “But it can’t hurt to try.”

Together, we approach the bed where Aurora’s lying. She’s still breathing on her own, at least, and as carefully as I can, I kneel next to the bed and take one of her hands in mine.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the only thing I can think to say, and I press her knuckles to my forehead.

I stay that way until the nurse comes over, puts a hand on my shoulder. Before I leave I kiss Aurora’s knuckles tenderly, place her hand back on the bed, still terrified I’ll hurt her, and Grayson and I walk back to the waiting room together.

When we get there, he looks at the door, then looks at me, jerks his head further down the hall, and I follow him into an empty hospital room, bright white and reeking of disinfectant.

“When were you going to tell me?” he rasps, arms across his chest. He can’t even look at me, his eyes bloodshot.

I nearly say tell you about what? But then I realize I shouldn’t fucking bother.

“I wanted to ask for her hand,” I say, my voice stark and hollow.

Grayson stares at me. He stares for a long time, his eyes and face blank.

“You’re kidding,” he finally says.

“She wanted me to wait because she was afraid your father would say no,” I go on.

Now I’m the one who can’t look at Grayson.

“She knew you’d both be furious if our — if our affair came out, so she was afraid to risk it yet,” I say.

Our affair seems like the wrong thing to call it, but right now, I can’t think of anything better.

Grayson just looks at me, long and hard, his hands in his pockets as he stares.

“She’s my little sister,” he finally says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She’s— She shouldn’t be with you, Declan. I know exactly who you are and what you’ve done, and if I had my way, you’d never have touched her in the first place.”

His words are angry, but he’s not. He sounds tired, defeated, the specter of Aurora in the hospital bed in both our minds.

“But I know all about falling in love with someone you don’t deserve,” he says. “If Aurora wakes up and this is what she wants, you’ve got my blessing.”

God, I thought about this moment again and again, about Grayson or his father inexplicably saying yes to our union, meaning I’d get to keep her forever.

But like this, it’s fucking hollow. Right now, I’d agree to never see her again if it only meant that she’d wake up, get to live the rest of her life.

“Thank you,” I say.

Grayson doesn’t say anything, but he reaches out, takes my shoulder, pulls me in for a long hug.