The Help (Kings of Linwood Academy 1)

HUNTER: But hey! It’s only one year and then college! We should apply to some of the same schools. Just so we have the option. We can be roomies lolol

Her response draws a half-smile to my lips, although it slips away quickly. I pick up the joint and take another hit as I type out a response, wishing I could tell her what’s really going on with me, half-tempted to just ignore Lincoln’s warnings and threats and spill my guts about everything.

ME: Yeah I like that idea

One of the metal bars of the bleachers clangs softly, and my gaze pops up, prepared to find one of the school admins glaring down at me.

But it’s just Dax and Chase.

They look different, and I’m not sure if it’s a change in their actual appearance or just a change in the way I see them.

As if I can see more of them now, somehow—can see through the layers of bullshit they wear on the outside, down to what’s beneath.

Neither of them are smiling, and Dax’s gaze lands on my phone as his eyes narrow.

“I’m not fucking texting the cops, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I say dully.

I glance down at the screen to see that Hunter has replied to my previous message, but I tell her I have to get to class and that I love her and miss her and will text her again later. Then I hold it out toward Dax for a second to show him before slipping it back into my bag.

He grunts and shrugs. “I never said you were. Who’s Hunter?”

“My best friend back home.”

“You miss him?”

“Her. And yes.”

His features relax slightly at my correction, and I have a sudden memory of his lips brushing over the bare skin of my shoulder. Of his body curving around mine, strong and protective and masculine. I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair, looking away.

Chase ducks beneath the bleachers, crawling forward to sit across from me. He takes the joint without asking and sucks a deep drag from it as his twin joins us.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, passing the joint silently around our tiny circle.

The weed helps—I refuse to let myself think it might be Chase and Dax’s presence that’s calming me down—and by the time I stub out the butt, I feel like I might actually be able to keep some food down. I even feel a little hungry.

“What do you want?” I ask, my gaze flicking between the twins. If experience with the kings of Linwood has taught me anything, it’s that they always want something.

“Are you okay?” Chase asks instead of answering my question. His angular features are serious, his brows slightly drawn together. “You were i

n rough shape the other night.”

I don’t want to think or talk about Saturday night, don’t want to acknowledge that I kissed him, don’t want to have them tell me again to keep my mouth shut.

“Yeah.”

He and Dax share a look, their too-similar faces communicating something without words. Then Chase reaches across the small space between us to rest a hand on my knee. “You don’t have to lie to us, Harlow. We were there.”

The warm weight of his palm feels good. My body tortures me with lies about what that touch means, about what any of this means—tries to convince me these two boys could be good for me. That they might save me somehow.

But that can’t be true.

They can’t be my destruction and my salvation at the same time.

I pull away from his touch, putting as much steel in my voice as I can. “Then I don’t know why you’re asking. Like you said, you were there. Of course I’m not fucking okay.”

A flash of pain flits through his eyes, and he reaches for me again, but I stand quickly, hunching over so I don’t hit my head. Then I grab my backpack and duck out from under the bleachers, walking quickly back toward the school.

I didn’t ask for this. Any of it. Not this crushing secret. Not the bond I can’t seem to shake or ignore that pulls me toward these four dangerous, overwhelming boys.