Page 22 of Riot

That safe blanket wraps around me as he walks at my side like a hulking sentinel, but I still scan every face that passes… looking forhim.

I’ll always look for Link.

But he’s not here, and even if he was, Riot won’t allow my ex to touch me.

So, I force the pressure from my chest, like opening a valve on a steam engine, and I pretend I’m a normal girl, walking with a sinfully attractive biker without a care in the world.

Even if we’re not.

Both of us are hiding beneath ill-fitting masks.

I slide a glance in his direction. He’s holding onto something, the weight pressing on his shoulders.

Talk to me…

I want to say the words, but they stick to my tongue, and when I finally find my courage, his hand goes to the small of my back.

“Let’s sit,” he murmurs and nods to a bench overlooking a small pond.

It’s quieter here, away from the grass and the kids. Peaceful. Tranquil.

I pull the pram in front of me so I can watch Seren. Her eyes are wide and alert, taking everything in. Guilt stabs me in the gut. These are the moments I’m denying her because I’m afraid.

“You warm enough?” Riot’s voice drags me out of my head.

My gaze snaps to him. Does he really care if I’m cold? “I’m fine,” I murmur. “It’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

Two women almost break their necks when they twist back to look at him. Ugly poison spreads through my stomach, and I lower my lashes. I hate the way they giggle and ogle him, like he’s only here for their pleasure.

My jaw flexes so tight, it aches. “How do you deal with people staring at you all the time?”

He lifts his head and smirks at me with that fucking smile that could level mountains. “When you look like this, Vee, people are gonna stare.”

Arrogant bastard. I smack his side, barking a laugh. Damn, it feels good to let go, even if it’s all smoke and mirrors.

“You’re so full of yourself,” I accuse.

He leans back against the bench, draping his arms along the back. “Babe, I can’t help that the packaging is perfect.”

He’s not wrong, but I’m not going to tell him that.

I scoff at him. “Your head is so big, it’s a wonder you can walk around without your neck hurting.”

“Don’t you worry about me.”

But I do. I wish he’d tell me what’s going on with him.

Just ask…

I open my mouth, but the words die again.

“It’s nice here,” I say, peering around, as if that’s what I always intended to say.

Coward.

“There’s a whole world outside those four walls,” he agrees.

I breathe the air into my lungs, deep and cleansing, the tension lifting. “Thank you for bringing me here. I guess I needed this more than I thought.”

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