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)
Even if I wasn’t a server, even if I wasn’t a grifter, there is nothing about me that screams debutante. I’m a goth weirdo with a brain that never sleeps and a heart that’s never been up for grabs.
Yet, I’ve told him things I shouldn’t. He knows more than he needs to. And that’s how I first knew I liked Jake. It’s also how I know I’ve been letting him reach my heart.
Maybe he’s touched too much of it.
“You shouldn’t drive, Hailey. Not while you’re still recovering. It’s only been two weeks since you hallucinated—”
“I haven’t hallucinated since then,” I say with a nod. “I’m getting better.” I nod again.
He nods back. “It’s okay if it takes a while.”
No, it’s not. I wrap my arms around my abdomen, hoping I’m not drawing attention to my uterus.
Jake’s frown deepens. “What’s the rush? Because if it’s about me and my brother and this unfinished job—”
I pop out of the car, pushing the Evian into his hand. “There’s always a job. It’s not the job. It’s…it’s just me.”
He shifts his weight uncertainly. “You put too much pressure on yourself. This isn’t life-or-death here anymore. You can breathe.”
“Almost. We’re almost there.” I tie my hair in a low pony out of my face.
“Hailey…” he starts, but I’m already walking toward the restaurant.
“Don’t wait for me. Phebs is coming. I’ll ask her to drive us home.”
“How is she getting here?”
“The bus, I think.”
Jake shakes his head in slow-growing confusion. “You girls…I don’t get you two. She could’ve asked me for a ride.”
“You both just broke up.” It was a fake breakup to their fake romance, but it was recent nonetheless.
“What about Grey?” Grey Thornhall—Rocky’s alias in Victoria. “Why couldn’t he drop off Phoebe?”
“She didn’t want to be seen out with her ex-husband right after ending things with you.”
Jake doesn’t like this answer. It means he’s the reason she’s taking public transit. He’s also blamed himself for being the reason Rocky and Phoebe have been secretly dating for half the year and not a public couple. But he’s not the reason.
It’s just the job.
We all have our roles. We all play pretend. It’s only fun when we can see all the pieces. When we know what’s real and what’s fake. I want it to be fun again.
I think it can be, but that involves staying out of my head. My phone buzzes as I hurry back toward the restaurant.
Carter: You should tell them. About the bun in the oven.
Did I tell Carter I’m pregnant?! My eyes bug, and it takes a lot of control not to stall out. Jake is waiting for me to reach the doors to Briny Pearl, likely afraid I might pass out mid-stride. I manage to go inside the restaurant, the cool AC hitting me all at once, and I sink down on the rattan bench near a life-sized mermaid sculpture.
I call Carter.
“Ailey!” He picks up on the first ring, his East London accent thick along with his joviality. Carter is rarely somber. I’ve always liked that about him. “Nice chat we were ’aving earlier.”
“The one where I purged everything in my head?”
“Not everything. Trust, you were skirting around things, too.”
I’m quiet.
“Oi, you better be breathing, or I’ll do worse on you and call your big moody brother.”
I smile a little. “Rocky would hang up on you.”
“Not when I say it’s about you.”
That’s true. “Did I tell you that…?” I can’t finish.
“That you’ve got a bun in the oven. You mumbled it. Said you’ve been keeping it to yourself. You and Phoebe. Now me, I reckon.”
I intake a sharp breath. “Carter—”
“I didn’t tell Jake. You barely meant to tell me, and you know me and you, Ailey. I’m not going around spilling all you share. This’ll be the same.”
I exhale.
“Ain’t that the sound of beauty.”
“Breath?”
“Life.”
His words drive deeper through me, and I place a softer hand on my flat belly.
“They should know,” Carter says in my silence.
“Who?”
“All of ’em. Best way to protect the future Tinrock progeny is if the whole team knows.”
“Not yet.”
“Thought you’d say that.” I hear his laughter before it comes. “I’m finishing up a passport for Mum’s friend, but I’ll pop in and out of Victoria when I can. Hit that Uncle Ned?” He’s telling me to go to bed. I understand some Cockney slang. Not as much as Oliver.
“Fly safe,” I say, then call Phoebe after I hang up.
“Ew, this bus seat is nasty,” she says upon answering. “I seriously could not find one that didn’t have a random white or brown stain. Buses shouldn’t have fabric seats. This needs to be illegal.”
“They know.” I stand up, heading toward the patio so as not to worry my mom. I’ve been gone long enough.
“Who knows what?” she whisper-hisses.
“The baby. Carter knows.”
“What the fuck?” she curses harshly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me—”