The Risk (Kings of Linwood Academy 3)

I slip my poker face back on, hiding my anger and pain behind it, and Hollowell steps around me to continue on his way. But as soon as he’s gone, my facade crumbles again.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. That fucker.

I can barely keep it together. I’ve never felt this combination of helplessness, anger, and fear before. It makes me think of the way wild animals look when they’re trapped, when they’re boxed in with no way out.

Like they’ll make a way out, even if it kills them.

“Low? Harlow!”

I blink and look up in time to see Lincoln and River striding toward me.

It’s the look in Linc’s eyes that jars me back to reality. He looks worried, and I realize I’m standing in the middle of the hallway, clutching my winter coat in both hands and shaking from head to toe.

He and River reach me in a few long strides, and instead of questioning me or saying anything at all, they pull me through a nearby door marked STAIRS.

The door closes behind us with a heavy thud, and Lincoln’s arms come around me immediately from behind, caging me against his body—keeping me from running or fighting or collapsing, I’m not sure which.

River is in front of me, cradling my face in his hands as his gaze finds mine. “What happened?”

“I saw—Hollowell.”

I’m breathing heavily, but it’s like the atmosphere has thinned. I can’t get enough oxygen.

“Fuck.” He glances from me to Linc, whose chin rests by my temple, my back to his front. When he focuses on me again, his fingers tighten just slightly on my cheeks. “What did he say? Anything?”

“He asked me how—the trial was going,” I whisper, my voice raspy. “He wanted to know if the advice he gave me—helped.” My head shakes back and forth, pushing against River’s hands. “I can’t do this. I don’t know how to do this. He’s gonna find out what I know and go after Mom, go after me. Fuck! I’m a good goddamn poker player, why can’t I do this? Why can’t I bluff?”

River doesn’t stop me from shaking my head, but he doesn’t release his grasp either, moving with me as his gaze tracks mine. Lincoln’s body behind me is steady and solid, his arms a tight band around my waist.

“Because this isn’t a poker game, Low,” the boy in front of me says softly. “It’s your life. Your mom’s life. It’s fucking terrifying, and there’s no reason you should be able to handle this. But you’re doing good. You’re doing great. Just breathe.”

I suck in a gasping lungful of air, losing myself in River’s gray irises as I fight for control.

“That’s it. Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

Linc’s voice rumbles against my back. I can feel him breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest like a demonstration of how to do it.

But I’m still unraveling.

I’m still that trapped animal with no way out. I’m a rat on a sinking ship, scrambling for higher ground over and over as the water rushes up around me.

I’m drowning.

Then River drops his head and presses his lips to mine.

I jerk slightly in surprise, but that little shock lets air flow into my nostrils, flooding my body with desperately needed oxygen. It’s like he flipped a switch, opened a latch, and allowed it in.

His mouth moves against mine, gentle and patient as always, as my breath finally comes back to me, slipping in and out through the gaps between our lips. My body relaxes in Lincoln’s hold, and I sag against him, the fight-or-flight instinct fading.

River brushes my hair back from my face and moves to pull away from me, but I chase his lips, not ready to let go yet.

I need this.

I need this more than the oxygen he just gave me.

He takes a step closer, encasing me fully between his body and Linc’s, stroking my hair as he kisses me. Lincoln’s hands splay over my ribs, and I feel his head pressed against mine, his cheek at my temple, so close to the kiss I’m sharing with his friend.

When my lips finally part from River’s, they’re tingling slightly, and I only pull back enough to let him see my face before I whisper four words.