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“Yeah.” I draw in a deep breath, relishing the fact that I can, that my lungs will accept oxygen again. “It’s just—I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like everything that’s happening is… inevitable. As if from the second we saw Iris die, there was no way to stop any of this. It’s like that “sliding doors” thing, where each little decision you make sends your life careening off in a new direction. But I’ve never felt that so strongly as I do now. I can pinpoint the exact moment my life went from whatever it would’ve been… to this.”
His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he considers my answer, his gaze serious. “Do you wish you could take it all back? Undo it?”
I hesitate.
Do I?
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I swallow, my throat suddenly going dry.
It’s a simple question without a simple answer.
“Yes. Some parts of it, I’d give a fucking limb to undo. I’d give anything. But other parts—”
I break off and move even closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body and letting his rich scent infuse my senses. Resting my hand on his chest, I gaze into his deep gray eyes, their color as variable as his moods.
“Other parts, it would kill me to give up.”
“Me too,” he whispers, a tiny smile lifting his lips.
I sigh. “I don’t know how so much bad came with so much good. I hate that they came hand-in-hand.”
River’s smile slips away, and his expression grows serious. Determined. “Harlow, we won’t let the bad win. We’ll fix this.”
He means it. I can see it in his eyes.
I don’t answer. I just lean into him, finding his lips with mine.
We breathe each other’s air as we slowly peel off our clothes for the second time today, unhurried and soft as Lincoln sleeps beside us. Then River rolls me onto my back and settles himself between my legs, and when he slides inside of me, our gazes lock.
We move together like the tide cascading up and down a sandy beach.
Perfect.
Natural.
Easy.
When I come, I wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him as close as I can.
And because I know he can’t hear me, I whisper words I shouldn’t say.
* * *
We fall asleep again, and when we wake up, it’s almost eight o’clock. I feel groggy and a little disoriented—I’m not really much of a napper—but I feel better too.
Something has shifted inside me, turning helplessness into determination.
It’s not over yet.
Lincoln leads the way downstairs with me and River right behind him. As we step off the west wing stairs and head toward the door to the motor court, Mr. Black rounds a corner, catching sight of Linc.
“Lincoln, do you have a min—” He stops when he sees who’s with his son. “Oh, Harlow. How are you? How’s everything with your mom?”
My blood seems to thin. Those are almost the same words Judge Hollowell spoke to me, and even though I know now that our suspicions about Lincoln’s dad being Iris’s killer were false, it’s hard for me to let go of that fear.
With all the lies and betrayal, my circle has grown smaller and smaller. I trust the kings, and I trust my mom and Hunter, and that’s about it right now.
“It’s okay,” I say, not offering any more information than that.
