Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
“It’s been really hard on me,” Hailey admits. “This afternoon, the town will know how badly you’ve treated me. How you just got with me because you thought I’d be heir.”
He’s losing color in his face. “The town?”
“Victoria Weekly has these audio recordings, and they’re going to publish my story. How I’ve been confiding in your younger brother. How Jake helped me escape you. How I’m pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant?” His eyes widen on her.
Hailey lifts her shirt to show her round baby bump, and his lips part in fragments of shock before she says, “With Jake’s baby.”
Jake’s neck almost breaks, he looks to Hailey so fast. I also have a record scratch inside my brain, but I don’t wear my surprise.
As far as I knew, Hailey was still unaware of the father.
She nods to Jake in confirmation.
He puts a hand to his mouth. The song cuts out but quickly restarts again as the person calls twice. “I need to take this,” Jake says, and he steps onto the lawn, shooting me an urgent, pleading look to take care of Hailey while he leaves. As if I haven’t done that my entire fucking life.
Trent is in a daze. Emotionally, mentally, and physically kicked down.
“I wouldn’t stay here if I were you,” I tell him. “And by here, I mean Victoria. There’s nothing left for you in this town. Take whatever offering Jake gives you because it’s going to be a hell of a lot better than living here. A place where everyone sees you as Trent Waterford, the gold-digging husband who was such a piece of shit to his wife, she ran to his younger brother for solace. You can’t spin it. You can’t fight it. Just take the fresh start and go.”
He takes labored breaths.
“Oh, and don’t worry about the bet, man. You know, the one you made me at the beginning of summer? Where you said you’d be the richest man in Victoria? As it turns out, that man is actually me.”
Trent blinks like he’s trying to throttle himself awake from this nightmare.
“I know you likely don’t have twenty grand to spare,” I say. “And I don’t really need it. That’s pennies to me anyway.”
He’s caving forward. Head in hands like he might puke. A full minute passes before he’s able to pick himself up. After wiping the grass off his ass, he leaves without looking at any of us. His eyes are on the ground. The tail-between-the-legs walk of shame.
And the job is finally done.
I turn around to Phoebe and Hailey, who hold hands and dance on the patio. Shimmying left and right to an Avril Lavigne song playing from a phone. They’re both sporting humongous grins, and it’s a little infectious.
Their happiness. Setting my sister free of Trent is a massive boulder lifted off everyone, but mostly off her and Jake and Oliver. When the song finishes and they’re out of breath, Hailey’s attention travels to where Jake vanished.
I see the way she intakes a staggered breath. The way her head almost imperceptibly tilts and her eyes glaze.
I see her longing for him.
To be with him, and once the story hits the Weekly this afternoon, she can be.
“Jake’s baby?” I ask her.
She turns to me, fiddling with her fingers. “I just found out yesterday.” Phoebe doesn’t seem surprised, so I’m assuming she went with Hailey to the doctor.
“Does Oliver know?”
Hailey nods. “I told him first. He was…” She chews her lip as a smile forms.
I lift my brows. “Oliver,” I finish for her. He was Oliver. He was happy for Hailey and likely did not care that the baby is Jake’s, because Oliver Graves will love my sister just as fiercely and deeply as he already did, just like he’ll love that baby like it’s his child anyway.
I know because I know him.
I know all of them.
FORTY-EIGHT
Jake
“Jeez Louise.” The lighthearted voice comes through the phone. “Your oldest brother is a snake. A little bitty toothless garden one that thinks it has venom and a bite. I hope you flung him into the woods.”
“Where are you?” I ask him, phone to my ear while I trek across the estate grounds with a lengthy, assertive stride.
“Look to your right, Koning. I’m coming at you hot.” Oliver isn’t lying. I roll to a stop in the middle of the lawn as I see him bounding in from the stables. He’s horseback on a black Dutch Warmblood that I’ve loved since I was seventeen, and he rides him like a Texan cowboy with strength and reckless freedom. His grin could light the sky on fire.
I laugh into a bright, weightless smile and lower the phone to my side. All the pressure of this morning flits away in one moment, one second, of just seeing Oliver Graves. His devil-may-care spirit never wanes, not even when he slows from a gallop to a trot to a walk as he nears me.