Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
I’m about to step away.
He shoots out a hand and snatches my bicep, stopping me. “How is Phoebe?!”
I tear him off. Is he stalling me? Alarm blasts shriller than the music, popping the external noise around me. All I hear is my dread.
I stare through him with a daggered gaze. Does he know where she is right now? Did he always know?
I sweep my eyes over the pool, the backyard, but all I see are flashes of Nashville, of our early twenties. I’m gripping her hair in the alleyway while she pukes. I’m holding her in the backseat of the car as she loses consciousness.
She’s crying. I hate this. I hate this. Don’t leave me.
I snap back into focus on Trent. “I thought you knew she was here?!”
“I saw her from afar! I didn’t think she’d come tonight! She never does!” At face value, I’d say he’s telling the truth. “I might’ve…” He swings his head from side to side with a shit-eating grin.
“You might’ve what?!” I smile to pull it out of him. We’re just friends. He can tell me anything. I even say it. “We’re friends, aren’t we?!” I smack his chest with the back of my hand.
“We are!” He dips his head toward me. “And you’ve been moody as fuck, Grey. You need a good release.” He pauses, gauging my reaction, and I nod and smile in agreement. He continues. “Look, as your friend, I’d say she’s still into you, but she’s not putting out without some encouragement. It’s going to be a hell of a lot easier tonight.”
“Yeah?” Fuck you. “How so?”
“I paid that cuck Howie to put a little something in her drink to get her loose.” He smacks my chest now. “You can thank me later, but only if I can watch.” He laughs as if it’s a joke, but his darkened gaze says he’s serious—that there better be an invite. He will participate. I will share and thank him for this gift.
My brain is numb. I hear nothing but my raging pulse. I see nothing but my all-consuming, heart-wrenching life with her.
A thousand times I’ve bit my tongue until it’s bled. A thousand times I’ve crushed my real feelings in a blender for the job. The job. There’s still an unfinished job. A rope unpulled. I need Trent close.
I can’t sever the rope between me and him.
I can’t hacksaw it.
But I can’t force down the violent surge inside me. All the blistering, untapped anger. The overpowering rage. It amasses. Too quickly.
I lower my head, our foreheads nearly touching as I stare into him. “You think I’m a cuck?”
He sees something new in my eyes. A flicker of doubt reaches him. The music shuts off abruptly to exclamations of “Hey!” and “Turn it back on!”
I step close to Trent, bumping my chest into his.
“Grey?”
I sneer, “You think I’d let you rape my wife?”
People gasp as they hear me.
Distaste writhes across his ugly face. “No one said anything about that, Grey. You went there.”
I walk him farther backward. To the edge.
Her voice is in my head again. I hate this. I hate this. Don’t leave me.
I erupt. I thrust him in the pool. And I go with him.
Let me be clear, I want to go with him.
The red-lit water is freezing cold, but I can’t feel the chill. I grapple with Trent under the surface and above, punching and kicking every time we come up for air. Violent splashes of water slap back at my face. I hammer my fist into his jaw, and he lands one on my mouth. The commotion from bystanders around the pool is muted in my head. I only hear my pounding pulse.
Then I sink him in the eight-foot depths, drag him down. The red pool light glows hot next to us. I rip the collar of his shirt, yank his arm behind his back. He tries to dunk me to propel himself to the surface.
He’s fighting for air.
I wrench him back down like a steel anchor. He thrashes more frantically as I keep him under. He can’t shove me off. I’m stronger and more meticulous and careful in how I cage my breath.
I bet he didn’t have a father strap ankle weights on him and give him a crash course in the water like he was a teenage Navy SEAL recruit. I bet he’s never been this uncomfortable in his life.
I bet he’s never felt powerless.
He screams underwater, bubbles expelling from his parted mouth.
Seeing his unrighteous anger switch into fear—it frees something inside me. I’ve never felt this much oxygen fill my lungs.
I don’t know how long we’re underwater for, but I could last forever. I could kill him. I have it in me. But I never let my base desires dominate me. You’re not in control, Bray. I hear the woman who raised me.