The Risk (Kings of Linwood Academy 3)

“It is what it is,” Chase says with a shrug, opening his door as soon as Dax pulls into the garage. He slams it behind him and then opens mine, and I examine his face as he helps me out of the car.

Neither he nor Dax seem particularly broken up about the fact that their parents don’t really seem to care about them. Instead, they seem… nothing about it. Blank. As if they don’t have any dashed hopes because they’ve taught themselves never to hope for more.

I hate it.

It makes me want to introduce them to my mom, to watch her pester them with questions about what kind of music and movies they like and give them shit about their uncanny ability to communicate without words.

That image makes my chest ache for about a dozen different reasons, so I push it out of my mind as the guys lead me into the house.

It’s big, and somehow even more ostentatious than Linc’s house, which is pretty fucking fancy in its own right. I don’t even know if this place is worth more than the Black mansion, but it’s more about how it’s decorated, how it’s laid out, that gives the impression of extreme opulence.

The twins don’t even seem to notice, striding inside as if the place is no more extravagant than the dumpy little house I used to share with Mom. There’s a table made of dark shiny wood under a massive mirror in the foyer, with a large vase of fresh flowers sitting on it.

Dax grabs a note that’s tucked under the vase at one corner, reading it quickly before tossing it back on the table.

“Mom and Dad left for a party.” He shoots me a look. “So I don’t think you have to worry about crashing our holiday celebrations. There’s not a Christmas goose cooking in the oven or anything.”

Before I can respond to that, the door we just entered through opens again, and Lincoln and River burst into the house. Neither of them seem awed by their surroundings either. In fact, neither of them seem to notice anything but me.

Linc’s long legs eat up the floor as he strides toward me, his face set and his nostrils flared wide. I expect him to collide with me, to knock me off balance with the force of his embrace, but instead, he slows when he reaches me, cupping my face in both hands and examining me with a wild look in his bright amber eyes.

“What the fuck?” He skates his fingertips over every inch of my face, like he’s trying to read what happened to me in the contours of my features and the rising swell of my bruise. “What the fuck is going on, Harlow? You tell me you got in an accident, but nobody will fucking tell me why—”

His grip on my jaw tightens until he breaks away, stepping back and scrubbing a hand over his own jaw, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt me if he keeps touching me.

I don’t care if he does. My head still throbs dully, and the brush of his hand over my bruised skin did hurt, but I need him to touch me more than I need to avoid that pain.

Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around him, and that seems to be the only encouragement he needs. His arms band around my waist, hugging me tightly to him. I can feel his heart pounding hard against my chest, and I’m amazed he had the restraint not to bust into the ER and demand answers right then and there.

A gentle hand strokes my hair, and when I turn toward the touch, River’s gray gaze meets mine. His eyes are beautiful and full of emotion, just like I pictured them in the car.

He palms the back of my head and kisses me, making no effort to pull me from Linc’s embrace as he does. Lincoln loosens his grip a little to let me face River more fully, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in the two of them.

It’s like a drug, being with them like this, and I know I’m self-medicating right now, trying to block out all the bad things in my life by indulging in the things that feel so damn good. But I need it. I need River’s lips on mine and Linc’s hands on my hips, skating down over the swell of my ass.

When River finally breaks away from my lips, he rests his forehead against mine, and the three of us stand huddled together like that, softly breathing the same air for a moment.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come for you, Low,” River murmurs, and the pain and self-recrimination in his voice make me disentangle from Linc enough to reach for him.

“You did come for me.” I lean forward to press another kiss to his lips before pulling back again so he can read mine as I speak. “You’re here now.”

Dax and Chase stand close by, their expressions unusually serious, and when the two other boys step away from me slightly, the twins lead us all into a huge living room.

Chase disappears for a second and comes back with Advil and a glass of water for me. I gulp the pills down grateful

ly, and as soon as the glass leaves my lips, Lincoln’s gaze catches mine.

“Harlow. Tell us what the hell is going on.”

So I do.

All of it.

4

It gets easier to process the truth every time I tell the story, like the repetition is grinding it into my brain, forcing it past the wall of shocked disbelief.

I watch River and Lincoln’s faces follow the now-familiar path from confusion to disbelief to anger.