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 shuts the last drawer and tips his chin down to my clothes littered on the ground. “Take your shit and leave.”
I don’t move off the doorframe. “Where?”
“Don’t know. Don’t really care.”
“And if Varrick asks why I’m sleeping on the couch? Should I let him know my big brother kicked me out of the room?”
“Tell him whatever you want, Jake. I’m the one sleeping in this room. I didn’t lose. That speaks louder than your useless words.”
He’s trying to impress Varrick, which surprises me. I’d thought Trent agreed to summering at Stonehaven for the novelty of it. A rare look inside the inner sanctum of Victoria’s most noble family.
I didn’t think he was interested in being named heir.
“You actually want the Wolfe inheritance?” I ask with a frown.
Trent’s face contorts like I’ve lost it. “Who the fuck wouldn’t? The Wolfes have double our wealth and more passive income to their name. Varrick is a lucky prick. He’s hired staff to manage all of his properties. Barely lifts a finger. While I’m wasting my life in a boardroom trying to please investors.” He looks me up and down. “But you wouldn’t know what that’s like. Mom never let you in the big boy chair.”
“I own half the assets now.”
“Half doesn’t give you the majority, baby brother.” His phone vibrates, and he rolls his eyes when he checks the message. “Fucking Jordan. Still bitching he didn’t get an invite.”
Mention of our brother tenses my body. Jordan called me when he found out about the invitation. He was a mess. I could barely make out what he was saying. I talked to his wife for over an hour trying to convince her to get him help, but she insisted he’d leave her before that happens.
“Jordan needs rehab,” I tell Trent.
My eldest brother groans loudly. “Not with this again.” He runs an annoyed hand through his hair. “Jordan is pathetic. He doesn’t need rehab. He needs a backbone.”
“Says the guy who supplies him with Percocet.”
Trent laughs lowly. “Everyone pops pills. It’s not my fault if he has no self-control. It’s a personality flaw.”
It’s an illness, I want to say. But I’ve been through this toxic merry-go-round a thousand times before. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Over this. We’ve never seen eye to eye on our brother. It’s the same argument I’ve had with our mom. They’d rather look down on Jordan than admit that they failed him. As a mother. As an older brother.
I’m the youngest of my brothers, and I am trying my best to keep this shit together without bandaging our family’s legacy with a bloodstained cloth.
“Since when do you care so much about Jordan?” Trent asks me. “You hate him. Unless you forgot that he also sells Perks to caufers.” Caufers: students at Caufield University.
I haven’t forgotten that.
I do hate him for that.
But I can want him to get help and hate him at the same time. Multitasking isn’t a foreign concept for me.
I don’t give Trent the satisfaction of a reply. Veins pop in his neck; he’s unnerved. He motions again to the pile of clothes. “Collect your shit.”
Barely blinking, I say, “No.”
He laughs shortly. “You don’t want to do this with me.”
“Why?” I say with an easygoing shrug. “Can’t handle someone pushing back on you?”
His smile never wanes. “You’ve always thought yourself big and tough. But it’s just so easy to hurt you. I barely have to try.” He walks to the closet and finds my empty suitcase. He slings it to the floor, and it splays open next to the mound of clothes. “Pack up your shit or else I will be happy to find another room to bunk in. I heard your ex-girlfriend is sleeping on this floor. Three doors down.”
Phoebe.
He doesn’t break eye contact.
I know he has it in him to try to enter her room without permission. My joints loosen enough for me to leave the doorframe and kneel beside my suitcase.
Trent doesn’t gloat. He steps around me and opens the door, making my embarrassment a public display for any passersby. “You,” I hear him call out. “Come here.” I think he’s flagging down staff until I see the platinum-blonde hair peek into the door. Hailey.
Her lips turn down when she catches my eyes.
Trent snaps his fingers at me. “My brother needs help. He’s woefully incapable of this task. Hasn’t packed a suitcase in all his life.”
“I’m fine,” I snap. But I don’t mention how he’s right about the last part. I have people that pack for me. So does Trent.
My brother waves me off. “He’s being obnoxiously humble. Please help him.” He just wants to shame me, but there’s no judgment in Hailey’s eyes. She walks farther into the room and kneels on the other side of my suitcase.
Trent sinks onto the bed, kicking his feet up on the mattress. He scrolls on his phone and lets out an impatient sigh as if I’m a nuisance in his room.