Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
She’s always been a hard book to read.
Closed off.
It’s what we’re taught to do. It’s hard to open up, even to the people you trust, when you spend most of your life hiding not just your secrets but your truths.
“You’re really okay?” I ask her. After Carlsbad, this can’t be an easy situation to brush aside. If she thinks I’m the only reason she was able to be safe from Trent tonight, that’s not an uplifting thought. She usually has all the confidence in herself to get out of bad situations.
She tilts her head side to side before she shakes it in a no. Her face breaks for a split second, and I jump into the hot tub with my clothes on, grabbing her just as she starts to cry. She buries her face in my chest, and my fingers tangle in the back of her blue hair.
I tell myself I’m her ex-husband.
I can talk this away if any of the staff see. If any of Jake’s family comes out.
She needs me, and I’m not pulling away. Not for anything. I hold her, cupping the back of her head for another few seconds before she gathers herself like she’s a windup doll and being spun into the upright position. It’s a trained move. Something I recognize.
Her tears are gone. Dry.
Her shuddering has stopped. She pulls away, and her eyes flit to my lips. Christ, I want to kiss her. To reassure her.
“We can’t,” she whispers and rubs at her eyes. “Rocky.” She looks me over, realizing I’m drenched in my clothes. “We can’t.”
The pain grips my muscles, and I release her from my arms. She floats back to the edge of the tub. The strap of her pale pink bikini slipped off her shoulder, and I stare at her bare skin. Her eyes graze my chest, my shirt suctioned against my muscles.
Attraction teems around us with a longing ache, billowing with the steam from the water. Emotion tunnels from her to me. Our eyes meet, and in the dead of night on Christmas Eve in the Italian Alps, I make her a promise. “If he tries that again, Phoebe, I’ll kill him.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Phoebe
Now
I wiggle my toes in the darkened sand and look out at the murky black ocean water. Moonlight is scarce, and I hear the waves lap more than I see them in the night.
Wind pierces my pink strawberry sweater, and I squeeze my arms against my body as I trek closer to the meetup spot. I quickly realize I’m not the first one to the beach.
Trevor.
Ugh. He wouldn’t be at the top of my list to spend one-on-one time with, but I’m hoping everyone else shows up soon.
He tosses wood into a firepit. The hood of his dark maroon windbreaker shadows his angular face. My toes sink deeper in the soft sand, and I hold a pair of black Louis Vuitton heels by the straps. They were an “I love you” gift from Jake that I opened in front of his family during a Waterford brunch.
Claudia nearly choked on her mimosa. Trent told me that Jake hardly ever gave his past girlfriends presents, so I must be different. The implied wink and smirk let me know he meant different in a sexual way. A shiver of revulsion skates down my back.
Regardless, I like the heels. I think after we make Jake heir, I’ll keep them.
Trevor groans when he sees me land on the opposite side of the unlit firepit. “You’re early,” he says with edge. “Hailey said to be here at three.” Three in the morning. A fact that Rocky disliked since it’s considered the witching hour.
“It’s fifteen till, and you’re early, too,” I shoot back.
“So I could sit with my thoughts.” He takes out a box of matches from his jacket and strikes one. “Alone.” He tosses the matchstick into the pit. There must already be kerosene on the wood, because it lights in a fiery plume.
“Did things go that poorly with Sidney?” He won her earlier at the auction, and I’m wondering if some of his angst is from spending the afternoon with Victoria’s Sweetheart.
He says nothing.
Fine.
But I frown more, finding the silence too disconcerting, so I try again. “I thought you were tired of being the loner,” I say. “Haven’t you been begging to be a part of the team since you were ten?”
He glares into the flames. “Yeah, and you’re the reason I’m not.”
“What?” I shift my weight, confused.
He pulls a flask out of his windbreaker. “Don’t act surprised. You’re not dumb.”
I rock back a little. It’s a strange compliment from him. Because Trevor is certifiably a genius like Hailey, and I am not the brainiac. I’ve felt leagues behind in that way.
My face falls more. He is right, though—I had an itching feeling he blamed me when we were growing up, but hearing him confirm it out loud gnaws at my insides.