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)
He’s been dating Sidney Burke, a rich college student who’s lived in this Connecticut town her entire life. She’s using him to get back at her rich dad, and since she’s the writer behind Victoria’s most popular gossip column, Trevor has been dating her to influence what hits the press.
He’d been at the boathouse.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I point at him, cigarette scissored between two fingers. “You did not bring your girlfriend to the boathouse.” He specifically told us he wouldn’t.
“For less than seventy minutes.”
“So an hour,” I state. “For fuck’s sake, Trevor.”
“We keep fakes in there,” Nova reminds him.
“Yeah, stashed away.” He stares into me, thinking I’ll understand. I can’t. He did another thing I said not to do.
“And guns,” I add.
“Like that one? Just lying out in the open?” Trevor motions to the Glock beside Nova. Which causes Nova to holster the gun at his waist.
Phoebe mutters, “I’m not going to prison because of Sidney fucking Burke.”
Trevor kicks off his loafers angrily. “She can be trusted.”
“No,” almost all of us say together.
Jake wavers. He’s on the fence because Sidney Burke was his sister’s best friend. He’s known her since she was in diapers. Like I feel responsible for my little brother, I know Jake feels similarly toward Sidney.
“She could’ve been snooping,” Phoebe combats. “She’s an investigative journalist.”
Hailey sifts through the letters. “Is that what we’re calling a gossip columnist now?”
“Trust me then,” Trevor says to everyone.
Oliver shares a small look with Nova. They empathize with Trevor wanting to be trusted, but he’s also the one most likely to make a mistake at this point. He’s already made a massive one. So, unsurprisingly, we’re all more keyed on him.
“Sidney isn’t trying to play any of us,” Trevor professes. “All she cares about is pissing off her dad. Hence…” He yanks his collar to expose the trail of hickies down his chest. “She wanted him to see it.”
Phoebe snorts. “Is she part blowfish?”
“Like you’ve never had a hickey before, PG,” Trevor says. “Your whole body has been a Twister mat.”
What the fuck? “Trevor,” I grit out.
“She started it.” He gestures to Phoebe. Everyone waits for her scathing comeback, but she’s abnormally quiet. Her limbs go slack as she releases her grip on my forearm. Her hands dangle at her sides, and I crane my neck to the left, trying to inspect her face, her eyes, while she’s leaning up against me.
My muscles are on fire.
“PG?” Trevor says uncertainly. “Phoebe.” Rare remorse flickers in his gray eyes. He looks over at me with confusion and an apology.
Because Phoebe is staring off at the seafoam cupboards. Unblinking, dazed, haunted.
Her brothers notice. Oliver starts to round the bar counter, but he stops as Phoebe mutters out a soft “Not anymore.” Louder, she says, “I’m not going to be that girl anymore. I don’t want to be.”
Hailey’s lips tic in a tiny smile.
I exhale a long breath through my nose.
Her focus clears. “You want my role, Trevor. It’s all yours.”
“Let’s not go that fucking far,” I caution my brother, but as Phoebe sinks back against me, I wrap my arms around her like a vise. She lifts her chin to look up at me, her gratitude pooling into warm affection. It melts the embers of aggravated heat she constantly carries in her eyes.
We’ve spent our childhood and adolescence working together. Being paired on jobs. We’ve pretended to be everything anyone could ever be to someone. It might seem like we’re toxic fumes. Like we can’t possibly make us work out, but all we’ve ever done is pull each other through the fires we’ve set.
So we’re going to get through this.
Whatever’s going on with her.
Whatever happens with Trent.
Whatever happens with her dad—the man who killed my family.
We’re getting through it.
There is no end without us together. I can’t even remember a beginning without Phoebe Graves.
SEVEN
Rocky
None of us say a word after Hailey passes out the letters, and we all rip them open.
Dear Mr. Grey Thornhall,
I’m formally inviting four well-to-do families to my beautiful home on the sea this summer. The Konings, the Bennets, the Thornhalls, and the Smiths. If you’d do me the highest honor in coming to summer at Stonehaven, it will be to your utmost benefit and my utmost gratitude.
As you know, I have no living heir. I’d love the chance to get to know each of you better, as I’d prefer to leave the Wolfe fortune to either a founding family of Victoria or new residents who’ve certainly made their mark.
There are no games to be played. I’d simply like to spend time with you over the summer in a more personal setting. My doors are open, and if you accept this invite, please meet me on The Ithaka (my yacht docked at the harbor) on the first Saturday of May at 4 p.m. with your bags packed for the long-extended stay.