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)
He’s always stuck with his family and mine.
Rocky scratches at the tag of his shirt’s collar. Frustrated, he tugs his collegiate tee off, his abs flashing into view, and he rips out the tag. Fitting his arms through his sleeves again, he says, “We’ll do it tonight. At the initiation. I’m going to have to bring you in early, Nova. You’re switching spots with Oliver.”
“Why?” Oliver frowns.
“You do too much,” Rocky says with heat. “I need this person to say almost nothing.”
Oliver sighs heavily, not excited. “Whatever’s best.” He points in a circle to all of us. “I’d like this documented that I’m a team player, merci beaucoup, mes amis.” His French accent rolls off the tongue naturally and sounds authentic.
Nova looks grateful. “Thanks, Ol.”
I mentally scratch out Oliver’s name and rewrite Nova.
“Nova hasn’t been selected,” I tell Rocky. The two of us were given a wax-sealed envelope a week ago that only detailed the time and place of the initiation. Nothing else. Nova has no invite. “Matthew doesn’t even know who he is.”
“Just leave that for me. I’ll vouch for Nova.” He turns to him. “You’re Jay Thompson. We’ll keep it as J.T., and you”—he slips his dark gaze to Oliver—“keep your phone close. Be in the car with the luggage.”
Oliver is now the getaway man.
“How do we do this if you’re not doling out the initiation with Matthew?” I ask Rocky.
He wears a haunted expression. “This might get bad.” His grim eyes flit to me. “Walk out if it’s too much to handle.”
“I’ll be fine.” I glare. I’m not the weak link.
His penetrating gaze is unflinching on me.
I hate that I like it. I hate that I don’t want him to ever look away.
I cross my arms. “What if it’s too much for you? Will you walk out?”
“I don’t have that fucking luxury, Abby.” He uses my fake name.
“Then let me help you,” I snap back and step toward him, our bodies barely an inch apart. The movement strikes the air with a hot rod. Breath is caged between him and me, and neither of us unfastens our gazes that dive deeper and grip and claw like lifelines to one another. “This isn’t all on you, Cole. Don’t push me out of this because you’re afraid of what’ll happen. I can take it.”
Just barely audible to me, he breathes, “You shouldn’t have to take it.”
It pools into me, but I don’t let it overflow. I hold my ground as brutally as he’s seizing his, and I say, “I’m. Fine.”
And like he knows I could tell him the same thing—that he shouldn’t have to take it, but he will because there is a part of him that enjoys the con, too—Rocky just breaks the standoff. “Let’s do this.”
“Great,” I say tensely, avoiding Oliver’s and Nova’s intrusive stares. My face roasts knowing they just witnessed the intensity between Rocky and me.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Rocky is stewing in his own thoughts while he puts on pants and grabs a beanie. He covers his black hair that’s dyed the same exact shade as mine. “See you tonight, sis.”
I’ve been ready for our sibling relationship to die.
And thankfully, it ends tonight.
Fourteen
Phoebe
THE BADGER GAME (CONTINUED)
At this abandoned lot with a boarded-up gas station, I wait with Rocky, Nova, and two other potential initiates: Claire and Kendra. Snow crunches under my feet near the broken gas pumps, and I hug my pink puffer jacket around my body.
Nova pushes the bridge of his horn-rimmed glasses. They’re actually prescription since his vision is awful, but with the style of glasses Rocky picked for him and the trench coat, he resembles a buff nerdy TA. Someone of importance, yet meek.
“It’s so cold,” Claire says with chattering teeth, rubbing her mittens together. I notice how she tries to grab Rocky’s attention, but he purposefully ignores her.
He’s playing Candy Crush on his phone.
“You want my scarf?” I ask, already taking off the classic taupe Burberry scarf.
“Really?” Her eyes light up.
“Yeah, it’s kinda warm for me.” I like the bite of the cold. My mind is alert and less at ease, and sometimes it’s better to be on edge. I’m not all altruistic. Partly, this also helps me have an ally going into initiation.
“Thank you so much.” Claire wraps the fabric around her pale neck that’s patchy red from the cold.
Kendra slips me a tiny smile, and I send one back. Her fiery red hair cascades out of a purple pom beanie, and her parka seems warm.
Not even five minutes later, a van rolls up to the gas station, exhaust pumping from the pipes. I glance warily to Rocky (aka my fake brother).
He straightens up and slides his phone in a long black peacoat.
No one exits the van.
Shit.
I breathe hard out of my nose, my breath smoking the air.
“What’s taking so long?” Claire asks.