The King's Men (All for the Game, #3)

by Nora Sakavic

Maybe Wymack could read pain in people like Neil could read anger; where Neil saw a girl's unshakeable calm maybe Wymack saw a vacant stare and defeated shoulders.

Running wasn't an option, he meant. Andrew knew why Neil had called him. "I'll stay."

Neil had seen this look on Andrew's face once before, when he and Andrew called a truce in Wymack's living room last summer.

The darkness in Andrew's stare wasn't censure; it was perfect understanding.

Befriending the Foxes was inadvisable but inevitable. Kissing one of them was unthinkable and went against everything he knew. Neil hadn't meant to toe that line or invite Andrew across it.

He didn't know what this thing between them was anymore. He didn't know what he wanted or needed it to be. He just knew he had to hold on for as long as he could.

Scarred was better than dead, so Neil figured he'd get over the stares eventually.

Neil envied Andrew's perfect recall for only a moment; Andrew had already said most of the memories from his childhood were unpleasant. Neil didn't have many good memories, either, but at least he knew he'd forgotten some of the earliest injustices and tragedies. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like hanging on to every blow and loud word.

The Foxes had faced his secrets and only tightened their grip on him. How could he fear anything with them all at his back? What could he regret when he still felt Andrew's kisses on his mouth?

EVERYONE SLEPT ON THE FUCKING FLOOR FOR NEIL BECAUSE HE COULDNT CLIMB INTO HIS BED IM-

topics and instead rambled about his personal record for pancake-eating.

NEILS USED TO KEEPING A GUN UNDER HIS PILLOW AS AN INSTINCT BUT ANDREWS HAND WAS THERE ~UNDER HIS FUCKING PILLOW~