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)
“Why isn’t Phoebe answering our calls?” He’s whispering.
“Hi to you, too.”
“I’m not bullshitting today, Rocky.”
I knew this was coming. With my back to the mirror, I lean on the sink, and I scratch an old scar at my neck. “She’s done with clip joints.”
A long pause. “Why didn’t she just say that?”
The truth is, Phoebe would’ve done anything to ensure Oliver wouldn’t end up in her role during clip joints. She’d do the same thing for Hailey and Trevor and even Nova, if given the chance. Maybe partly because she believes that’s all she’s good for.
“She’s embarrassed,” I lie.
“I’ll talk to your dad—”
“And say what?” I step away from the sink.
“I’ll think of something.”
I tense. “Don’t Dean Winchester this.”
He mutters something that sounds like fuck you. “You know I hate when you call me that.”
“You’re named after a comic book character who flies in space with a dorky gold helmet, and you have a problem being called the guy on Supernatural who goes to Hell in exchange for his brother’s life?”
“Nova is a part of an intergalactic police force with hundreds of comics—you call me Winchester not because you think Dean is cool but because you think Dean kisses his dad’s ass and doesn’t protect his brother in the right way.”
I exhale again.
He’s not wrong.
I lift my brows. “Dean is the cool one, though. I could call you Sam.”
Nova bypasses that comment and says, “If I was up your dad’s ass right now, I wouldn’t be whispering in a fucking coat closet. I would’ve told him who I’ve been calling when he asked. I would’ve lied and said Phoebe is on her way, even though I have no goddamn clue where my sister is.”
Connecticut.
I want to be on the same page as Nova. I could even use his help. I trust him more than I’ll ever trust our parents.
Turning around, I face the mirror and rake a hand through my hair. “She’s safe.”
“Is this just about the clip joint?”
I pause. “Phoebe should tell you herself.”
“Clearly she doesn’t want to.” His hurt constricts his voice. “So give me something. Is she coming back?”
“Probably not anytime soon.”
“Not before the job starts?”
“Doubtful.” I take another beat. “She might not come back at all. She’s taking a break. Her and Hailey.”
“A break?” His worry cascades over the line. “Is this because of Carlsbad?” He was in the car with me that night. He knows something happened, and like me, he’s in the dark.
“I think so.”
“But you don’t know?” He’s on edge.
“It hasn’t been confirmed. Look, I’d tell you and Oliver to come out here, but you’re going to need to cover for the girls. Don’t let our parents know where they are.”
“You never gave me a location.”
“Do you need one?”
“If Oliver and I can get out there after the job, yeah, I do.”
I shouldn’t.
Should I?
I want us all together. It might be the fucking death of us. “Victoria, Connecticut. And, hey, I’m being serious, Winchester. Don’t tell them where we are. If you come out here, it better be without a tail—or I’ll never call you Nova again,” I whisper with heat.
“Understood. I’ll cover for the girls. Any suggestions?”
I stare up at the ceiling. “Tell the godmothers the girls are caught up in another job in Indiana. It started as Phoebe being a catfish online. I swung around to help. We’ll be late to the clip joint.”
“What happens when it starts and you’re all not here?”
“Tell them we’re held up, and I’m only communicating with you. It’s easier.”
“Got it.” I hear scribbling.
For fuck’s sake. “Are you actually taking notes?”
“No one will see it. It’s in a journal.”
“If you think my dad doesn’t go through your diary, you need to have a new four-letter name. Starting with F. Ending with L.”
“Fool? Thought that one was your middle name.”
“No, that’s fuck you.”
“That one belongs to my sister.”
I almost smile.
“Yeah” is all I say.
“The journal won’t leave my pocket, Rocky. You have nothing to worry about. Just . . . fucking trust me.” He lowers his voice again, and I wonder if he hears people outside the closet.
“You’re not the one I don’t trust,” I mutter, and I’m not sure if he hears me. I don’t care if he does or doesn’t. I appreciate that he’s helping keep Phoebe and Hailey safe in Connecticut, but if any of this leaks to our parents, they could so easily manipulate him and I doubt he’d see it.
“I have to go,” Nova whispers.
When we hang up, I stare at the phone, my muscles coiled in taut bands. Why am I trying to help Hailey and Phoebe succeed here?
It’s not so they can live without deception. I still don’t believe in that.
But there has never been a point where it felt possible to truly ditch our parents. Let alone leave them in the dark across the country. Hailey and Phoebe have done it, and with Nova’s help, maybe this will actually work for longer than a couple weeks.