by Callie Rose
I raise my eyebrows, blinking in surprise. “Holy fuck. That’s…”
“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 gratefully, 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.
There’s fear in their expressions too. Not for themselves, but for me. An echo of the fear I felt when I realized I was alone in a house with a cold-blooded killer.
When I finish speaking, Linc surges off the couch and begins to pace around the room. He’s never been one to keep his emotions under wraps unless he has to, and right now, agitation is pouring off of him in waves.
River moves closer to me, his hand finding my knee and offering silent comfort as his gaze bounces from Linc to me to the twins, watching for the movement of our lips.
Lincoln stops abruptly mid-stride and turns to me, his eyes blazing like embers in a fire.
“You’re sure he doesn’t know?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure of anything right now, Linc. I told him I was just stressed because of my mom, and he seemed to buy that. But I don’t know. I’m good at spotting tells, but he’s got a crazy good poker face.”
He curses under his breath, scrubbing a hand through his dark, almost black hair. “Fuck. We can’t risk it.”
Then he turns toward River, making sure his friend is looking at him before speaking. Of course River is, because he’s amazingly good at following conversations even though he can’t hear most of what’s being said. Good enough that I didn’t figure out he was hearing impaired for several months, and most people at our school still don’t know.
“We need to get Harlow’s stuff from your place,” Linc says firmly. “Tonight.”
“What?” I blink, my gaze swiveling between the two of them. “Why? Where am I going?”
“Far away from here,” he growls.
“No.”
His gaze snaps to me, and I see something in his expression similar to what I saw the night Iris died. Lincoln is one of the most commanding guys I know, and he’s almost always in control. But he wasn’t that night, and he isn’t right now either.
“Yes, Harlow.” He moves toward me, his strides long and determined. “For all we know, Judge Hollowell knows everything. I’m not letting you stay here with a giant fucking target painted on your back. I’ll ship you off to another damn country if I have to.”
It sounds like he’s exaggerating, but one look into his eyes tells me he’s not.
But I shake my head again. “No.”
“Dammit—”
“No. I can’t go anywhere, Linc. I’m not leaving my mom behind. If I go, she stays in prison. Her trial comes and goes and Judge Hollowell pulls whatever strings he has to do make sure she gets convicted. I’m the only chance she has.”
He stops several feet away from the couch where I’m sitting next to River. The twins are in two chairs nearby, and all three boys watch the silent standoff between me and Linc.
“I get why you want me out of here,” I say softly, lowering my voice. “I wish it was that simple. But I can’t leave Mom. I ca
n’t leave you guys.”
A dozen different emotions flash across his face, but it’s the last one that catches my attention most strongly. It’s something I can’t quite pinpoint, but it blazes strong and hot in his expression. It’s like possessiveness and pride all mixed into one.
I’ve never been one to slink off into the shadows or hide from a fight, and Linc likes that about me. He may hate it right now, but he can’t change who I am.
He chews on his lower lip, still staring at me intently for a few moments. Then he dips his head once. “Fine. You stay here. But”—he lifts a hand, the line of his brow hardening—“if we get even a hint that Judge Hollowell does know, that he’s planning on coming after you, I’m shipping you off myself.”
I nod. I hate this bargain, but I know Lincoln needs something to hold on to. And he may be right. I can’t help my mom at all if I’m dead.
On my right, River makes a small noise of defeat, and when I turn to face him, he’s shaking his head.
“Harlow… you should still probably get your stuff from my house. I don’t know if you should stay with me anymore.” His gray eyes churn like storm clouds. “My dad is pissed as fuck about my car. The towing company called him to confirm the drop-off at the mechanic, and he about lost his shit.”
My stomach clenches. River dismissed the damage to his car so quickly I pretty much forgot about it, but the truth is, I wrecked a vehicle that must’ve cost at least a hundred grand. And if the “you break it, you buy it” policy is in effect, I’ll be paying that shit off till the day I die.
“Shit, River. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse between you and your dad.”
He snorts a humorless laugh. “I don’t know what he’s so mad about. I never drove that stupid thing, I didn’t even want it, and he can afford to replace it without even blinking an eye. But it’s not about the money for him, it’s about the principle.”
I can believe that. River’s parents aren’t as disconnected from him as Dax and Chase’s are from the two of them, but I sometimes wonder if it’d be better if they were. I’m not sure if it’s related to River’s hearing impairment or something else entirely, but it seems like Mr. Bettencourt decided a long time ago that his son was a disappointment, and I don’t know if anything would change his mind.
“He’s been giving me a hard time lately about you staying at our house, and when the call came in about the car, he went off.” River shakes his head, looking almost ashamed, like he’s letting me down somehow just because his dad is an asshole. “He knows you borrowed it and were driving when it wrecked. He’s… not the biggest fan of yours.”
I allow a sardonic smile to tilt my lips, reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers together. “Oh, he’s not a fan of the girl who crashed at his house for weeks like a squatter, then borrowed your car and wrecked it? Gee, shocker.”
River’s expression loosens slightly, and he grins back, tightening his fingers around mine. Good. It sucks that his dad is pissed at me, and it sucks even more that he’s probably pissed at River for all of this too. But I don’t want the serious, brown-haired boy to feel bad about it. It’s not his fault.
“She can stay here,” Chase puts in, shrugging lightly. “It makes the most sense. Our parents won’t give a shit what she does. She could tap dance naked through the living room, and they probably wouldn’t even notice.”
“Shit’s still messed up at your house, with Paige and all?” Dax asks Linc.
Lincoln grimaces. “Yeah. She’s still threatening to blackmail dad over the baby. I don’t know what he’s gonna do about it.”
“Low can stay with us. We’ll look out for her.”
“Okay,” Linc finally agrees, then he shifts his attention back to me. I can tell he doesn’t like this at all, and neither does River—I have a feeling neither boy wants to let me out of their sight. But it says volumes about the bond the four kings share that they’re willing to trust my protection to each other. “Until we figure out what to do about this fucking Judge Hollowell thing, you’ll stay here. River and I can bring your stuff over tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I shake my head, blinking hard. The adrenaline is gone, and with the Advil kicking in, now I just feel exhausted. “I’m sure I can make it one night with what I have. I can borrow clothes to sleep in, can’t I?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Dax’s voice is low, and when I cut a glance his way, the expression on his face makes my stomach turn to liquid heat. He looks like the thought of me in his clothes is the hottest fucking thing he can think of.
Chase’s eyes have darkened too, and I glance away as my stomach flip-flops. I remember thinking once that at the rate I was going, I’d probably end up having to crash at the twins’ house at some point, but I honestly didn’t expect it to really happen—or at least, not under these circumstances.
I feel overwhelmed. Like so much is happening that my mind can’t keep up with all of it, and random thoughts and worries keep popping up and dropping away before I can even process them.
River, who notices everything, must catch the mess of emotions swirling in my eyes, because he scoots a little closer to me on the couch, bringing our joined hands to his lips.
“It’s okay, Low. We don’t have to figure this all out tonight. We’ll get there. Keeping you safe is the main thing, and we’ll make a plan for everything else.”
How the fuck does he manage to stay so calm, confident, and certain? I lean into him briefly, soaking up his scent and the warmth of his body, and then I nod. “Okay.”
He stands, pulling me to my feet with him. “Get some sleep, okay? We’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nod again, and Linc crosses toward us. He grasps my chin in one large hand, his gaze bouncing between my eyes as he brings his face so close to mine I can feel the caress of his breath on my skin.
“We will not let anything happen to you, Low. You have my fucking word. We’ll fix this.”
Those are promises he can’t make, can’t guarantee he’ll keep. But I believe him anyway, and the knot of tension in my stomach unwinds a little.
He kisses me hard, the way he does when he’s trying to claim a piece of me before letting go, and I press my lips to his with the same bruising intensity.
River tugs me into his arms and gives me one long, slow, deep kiss before stepping back. Then the two boys turn and head for the door.
As soon as they’re gone, all the adrenaline and forced energy that was keeping me going drains from my body, and I practically wilt. Chase lets out a low chuckle and slings an arm around my waist, leading me back out into the entry foyer and up one of two sets of staircases leading to the second floor.
“Come on, sleeping beauty. Let’s get you horizontal before you pass out.”
The twins’ rooms are on the second floor, and they’re both massive. They each have attached bathrooms, and I rally enough to request a shower. My hair is tangled with little bits of matted blood, and my shoes and pants got damp from tromping around in the snow. A hot shower and warm, dry clothes sound like fucking heaven right about now.
“Yeah, of course. Come on.” Dax opens the door to his bedroom and ushers me and Chase inside.
He shows me where the towels are in the bathroom, then leaves me to it.
I haven’t even asked where I’ll be staying, and if they offer me a guest room, I won’t say no. But to be honest, after the fucked-up day I’ve had, I hate the idea of sleeping alone.
Warm water sluices down over me as I tilt my face up toward the spray, letting it wash away the last remnants of the day. I expect the hot water and steam to make me sleepier, but they actually refresh me, making me feel more clear-headed and human than I have since the accident.
I turn off the tap before I get totally pruney and wrap a towel around myself. Then I step back out into the bedroom.
Chase and Dax are both still in the room. Dax is sitting on the bed, and Chase is leaning against a large dresser nearby
. They’re talking in low voices, so quiet I can’t make the words out, and the sight of them makes my heart squeeze.
I’m envious of the bond these two boys share. I don’t think most people in the world have that kind of connection to another human being—not to their parents or siblings or lovers. This is something beyond closeness, beyond brotherly affection. It’s like they’re two sides of a coin, each boy a whole, unique individual while at the same time a part of something bigger than himself.
They look up as they notice the bathroom door swing open, and their gazes catch on me—on the soft towel wrapped around my body, and the expanse of bare shoulder and strands of wet hair above it.
Dax clears his throat and gestures to the bed beside him, where I notice a pair of men’s athletic shorts and a t-shirt are laid out. “We got you some clothes.”
“Thanks.”
I step forward to collect them, and as I grab the two items, something occurs to me. I’ve seen the t-shirt on Chase before, but I’m pretty sure the shorts belong to Dax. Lifting a brow, I glance up at the two of them.
“Are these… from both of you?”
Chase’s grin is a little bashful. “Well, we each wanted to contribute something to the cause, so to speak.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth even as a flush of warmth spreads through my body. I grab the t-shirt and shorts and return to the bathroom, hanging up the towel before slipping them on. They’re both huge on me. I probably could’ve gotten away with just the shirt, since it hangs down past my ass, but I like the way the clothes surround me with Dax’s sweet clove scent and Chase’s bergamot aroma. They make me feel cozy and safe.
Wiping the steam from the mirror, I glance at my reflection. The bruise on the side of my head is a real whopper, deep purple and blue. It hurts when I poke at it, but the throbbing headache has receded. I comb my fingers through my damp hair, separating the dark strands, then head back into the bedroom.
This time, Dax and Chase are both sitting on the bed, and my heart gives a little flutter when I see them. They stand up as I pad over, and Dax pulls back the covers for me without a word. They changed while I was in the shower and are now dressed in clothes similar to mine. We could be a matching trio, except for the fact that what I’m wearing barely fits. I had to roll the waistband of the shorts a couple times to make them stay up.