Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“That’s where some of your money is tied?”
“Yeah, but I always told Kate I’d get Bowie back to her. I just . . . I needed more time.”
Too many feelings churn through me. I run both of my hands through my hair, feeling the soft strands slip between my fingers.
I must look skeptical because Jake sighs out, “I know it seems impossible.”
Not impossible.
Faking a death? Child’s play.
Done it three times.
But I can’t tell him that. Can’t even say that I didn’t think he had it in him.
Jake touches his chest. “I love my sister. I’d do anything to make sure she’s still on this planet. Do you get that?”
I take a pained breath. “Yeah, I get that.” But I can’t buy into words. I need proof. “Can I see your phone?”
He pulls it out.
“Show me her number.”
He scrolls down to a number, no contact info. I hold out my hand, and he passes it to me. I text her: Call me. It’s important.
I wait.
Jake waits.
And then an ABBA song plays. “Chiquitita.” Little girl in Spanish. I answer the call. The line is quiet, so I look at Jake.
He speaks. “Kate, everything okay?”
“Yeah, you’re the one who texted me.” She sounds young, her voice having a breathy cadence that’s so distinct, I recognize it from the interviews on YouTube. The ones with her and her family, praising the Koning beer.
I hang up on her and hand Jake his phone back. It’s becoming hard to hate him. Even harder not to brush aside the deepening crater of jealousy.
Jake Koning Waterford is everything I can’t be.
He’s a good guy who pulled a con to save his sister.
He’s done what I could never do. What I’ve never tried to do. I’ve only pulled cons for my own gain—or my family’s gain. Any altruism is a side effect, not the main cause. I’ve never convinced myself I’m a vigilante with a moral backbone. I know what I am, and yet . . . here he is.
I want to hate him.
But I want to be him more, and that scares the shit out of me. I’ve never wanted to change. Never hated myself to warrant it. And I don’t dislike who I am—I don’t.
But could I be better?
“I’ll buy the horse,” I say.
Shock pierces his face. “What?”
“I’ll buy Bowie. You can pay me back later.”
He shakes his head over and over. “I don’t understand. Why?”
Because maybe a path exists where I can be good. Maybe I want to keep him close because he could be useful down the line—and I have so much blackmail I could fill a landfill with it.
Or maybe I think his friendship would be good for me.
Maybe it’s all those things.
“I don’t know,” I whisper out. “I just am.”
Thirty-Three
Phoebe
Pacing back and forth in my bedroom, I stare at a piece of paper in my hand. I’ve replayed what Rocky said happened at the horse stables a million and one times.
Oh wait, he said nothing. That’s right. Rocky has been withholding the one piece of information I asked him to help retrieve.
I mimic him and his stupidly gruff voice. “It’s a lot, Phebs. Just give me a sec.” I exhale a pissed breath. “Lies. You had to go flee town for a stupid cash grab.”
After the horse stables, he immediately packed his bags and left for Rhode Island. He even took Oliver with him. Something about needing a large chunk of change quickly.
I didn’t have the chance to see them go. He called from the car. I’ll tell you everything when I get back. I don’t want to do this over the phone.
“It hasn’t been just a sec,” I mutter hotly, still pacing. “It’s been two awful weeks.”
And it’s been the worst two weeks since I arrived in Victoria. Not because of my job. Katherine has removed her claws from my shoulders. Mr. Burke barely acknowledges my existence. Guests at the country club chat with me like I’m heir adjacent. All because I’m dating Jake, and his social status has boosted mine into a glittery stratosphere.
Hailey and I even found an honest path to cover rent for the rest of October. We parted ways with our matching diamond bracelets, gifts from our moms when we were twelve. And the family dinner with Jake’s parents was postponed after Mr. Waterford came down with the flu.
These two weeks should’ve been the best ever. Easy job. No big financial concerns. No interactions with Jake’s influential family.
No Rocky.
I hated it. I hated that he wasn’t here. I hated that I missed him every time I thought about him and my heart clenched. I hated wishing for his stupid comebacks and eye rolls. I hated how each day passed, and I just hoped and hoped that each day would be the day he’d return.
“He shouldn’t have left,” I say, my lungs on fire. I need him. “I don’t need him.” I want to pace, but I’m glued to the floor, the paper crumpling in my tight fist. I want him. “I don’t want him.” My eyes burn. “I’m not a needy bitch. I’m . . .” I swallow a rising lump.