Page 73 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
“Thank you for dinner. I’m fine to get home on my own.”
“No!” Ambrose and Jackson say in unison, drowning out my own murmured protest.
Camille shakes her head. “It’s not far. I’ll be okay. Thanks again. Goodnight.”
She turns and leaves. Jackson follows her, calling out to for her to wait. I can tell Ambrose wants to do the same, but he stays with me.
He crosses his arms over his chest and levels me with a withering look I’ve never seen him use. “Explain. Now.”
24
In the overfive years I’ve known River, I’ve learned many things about him. Such as his various tells.
When he’s excited about something but is trying to play it cool, the right corner of his mouth twitches up.
When he’s having a flare of arthritic pain but trying to hide it, his exhales are heavier.
And when he’s on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, his body goes stock still and his voice becomes monotone.
I also know that River’s default is to hide his feelings, like life is a game of poker, and if he gives too much away about what he’s experiencing, he’ll lose.
So the fact that he’s visibly upset right now is troubling.
I don’t know what to do with this version of River.
He rips his glasses off to scrub away the tears forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, anguish threading through his tone. “I’m so sorry, Ambrose.”
Comforting him hasn’t helped, and even though it goes against my instincts to protect and soothe, I don’t let myselfrush over to his side to hold him as he cries. If I do that, I worry he won’t tell me what’s wrong.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to tell me what’s going on.” I keep my voice even, but when he looks up at me with watery eyes, my resolve to be tough breaks. Reaching across the table, I take his hand in mine. “Please, River,” I add softly. “I need to know in order to help.”
He swallows hard, gripping my hand like it’s a lifeline. “It’s not something you can help with.” He sounds utterly defeated.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Jackson storms back into the dining area with a frustrated scowl on his face.
When River stays silent, the burly beta grabs River’s chair and yanks it back, spinning it to face him. He jabs a finger at River, who blinks up at him in surprise.
A small growl forms in my throat as my alpha sees it as an attack on my mate, but I push it down. I’m worried, but I’m angry, too. My go-to method of communication isn’t working, so maybe Jackson can get through to River.
“I was shocked and I couldn’t keep my shit together,” River barks back at his best friend.
“Why? What was so offensive about Camille that you’d freak out?” Jackson asks, not backing down as River’s alpha attempts to assert dominance.
“She’s not offensive,” River sighs. “She’s amazing.”
His reply takes me aback. Now I’m even more confused.
Camille is gorgeous, and intoxicating from the moment we met, but River flipped a switch from upbeat to freaked out as soon as he saw her. I’d wonder if she’s his scent match as well, but that can’t be it. He didn’t have a chance to scent her before he started acting strange.
I open my mouth to ask him to explain more, but Jackson continues before I can, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.
“Then why the fuck were you being such an asshole? She didn’t even say anything to you!”
Things click into place as River’s posture grows even more rigid. River is anxious when he meets new people, and sometimes standoffish, but never outright rude.
“You already know her,” I murmur.
River and Jackson’s attention snaps over to me, the look in River’s eyes confirming my guess.
