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)
My grip tightens on my heels. “I’m not barring you from being on the team. You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he says flatly. “Background character in this play.” He takes a long swig from his flask.
“No one thinks of you like that. Everyone has their roles.”
His nose flares, and he drops his hand with the flask, letting it hang loosely at his side. “Yeah, well, you’re in my role. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been paired with Rocky during jobs. I would’ve mattered.”
The casual honesty from him catches me off guard. I’m used to the snarky jabs and caustic, immature banter.
“Trevor.” I walk around the firepit to his side. Nineteen. He’s nineteen. Which isn’t that young anymore—but he will always be the youngest. There’s a part of each of us that feels a responsibility toward protecting him. Maybe we butt heads and annoy each other like a brother and sister would, but I never thought he didn’t matter. Not to me. “You matter—”
“Stop,” he deadpans. “See, this is why we don’t have heart-to-hearts, PG. As soon as you see a problem with any of us, you jump in front of a train, thinking you can fix it.”
My stomach coils. “So I’m not a person who stands by and watches the people I love sulk in their own misery. Is that so bad?”
“It is when you’re the problem. Your existence is the fucking problem. And unfortunately, you’re one of five people on my Do Not Kill list.”
The fact that he even has a list…ooh, scary. I swear he tries to be tough—maybe to live up to his moniker.
“Thank you?” I say half-heartedly.
Heat has been extinguished from his gaze. “It’s only by association to Rocky. Otherwise…”
“You’d off me?”
“Maybe.”
Gremlins are more terrifying than him, and I think those balls of fur are pretty fucking cute. I try not to poke fun at his weak sinister demeanor when he’s being serious with me.
“So I’m in the spot you want,” I say, testing out this heart-to-heart thing. Maybe I can’t fix it, but I can understand him better.
He kicks an exposed log with his sneaker. “I just want to work with my brother.” Okay, that’s actually sweet, and seeing as how I love working with Rocky, I do relate to that feeling.
“I don’t choose the roles, Trevor. And even if I did get offed, you realize that Oliver would most likely replace me?”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, I know. But that’ll change, right? When it’s just us six? We can decide our roles ourselves.” His darkened gaze meets mine with a glimmer in it. It’s hope.
I see what Victoria means for him. A chance to obtain what he’s always really wanted without the control of our parents.
“Yeah, that’s the idea,” I whisper softly, letting that hope reside in the air. A tether between us.
He offers me his flask, and when I take a sip, our siblings approach the rising flames.
Hailey has a thick manila envelope in her fingers. Dark crescent moons still shadow her eyes, but she raises the envelope of DNA results like it’s a gold medal, bounding closer to me. Her excited energy makes me smile.
I meet her halfway, then we trek back to the firepit together, and Oliver isn’t far behind Hails. He sneaks up on her and bear-hugs her from behind like they’re fifteen again. She holds his arm, maybe so she doesn’t trip and fall. Then he steals the flask from my grip. “Midnight beverage for the wicked,” he says and tips it into his mouth. “What about you, Hailstorm? You’ve been bad or good?”
“Good, mostly.”
Oliver pouts.
Hailey doesn’t even look, but it’s like she knows he’s teasing her. She smiles at the sand, and his smile stretches wider and wider at her.
“And you, Phoebe?” Oliver asks. “Good or bad?”
“It’s a matter of perspective,” I point out.
“Ah, yes. It’s all in the eye of the beholder.”
Oliver squeezes between me and her, then he slings his arms over our shoulders, pulling us against his sides like we’re at college again, or boarding school. Secret societies. Clandestine meetups in cemeteries. Our mysteries.
Our codes.
Our truths.
Hailey laughs at a joke Oliver makes, and my smile brightens from within. For a moment, it does feel nostalgic. Happiness isn’t in short supply when we’re all together. It’s one of the few times where it feels abundant.
Nova is already at the firepit. He tosses another piece of wood in the circle. Flames spark and crackle. He holds out a hand to Oliver, who silently passes him the flask.
I peel away from my brothers, just as Rocky emerges from the darkness of the dune grass. He immediately joins me. And he slips his hand in mine.
His lip tics upward. “Hi,” he says. I’m not pulled into our messy past, as much as I’m relishing this moment—us together.
“Hi,” I reply, falling into the depths of his gray eyes.