Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Not looking forward to ditching a job in favor of a family grifter seminar.
But our parents haven’t made it this far without being smart, and I want to learn everything I possibly can from them. It’s the only way to stay ahead of their own game.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Phoebe
Now
“Jesus fuck,” Rocky groans, staring at his phone in the middle of the grocery store aisle. I halt my shopping cart next to the dairy fridge. It’s twenty minutes until closing, and besides the cashier, no one is in the grocery store. Except for Hailey and Oliver one aisle over.
We’ve been talking more freely than we normally would, but it feels like a measured risk since this store is on the edge of town. Hardly the one favored by locals.
“What is it?” Jake holds a bottle of Bordeaux by the neck.
“Your needy bitch of a brother,” Rocky says, those words coming out so casually it even takes me aback.
My brows shoot up. “Okay, that was nasty, even for you.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t help it. Trent’s a parasitic leech.” He reaches absentmindedly for a carton of milk while texting with his other hand. “He wants me to come over for poker night.”
I wince. Poker night for Rocky is an art of restraint. He could clean out the entire group without blinking, but he has to actively try to be average.
Rocky sees he grabbed the skim milk and puts it back with a scowl. I reach for the chocolate milk and pass it to him. His gray eyes soften at the gesture, but we’re in public. Can’t kiss. Can’t hold hands. It’s not as painful as I thought it’d be, because a deep look at his gaze says, Later. And our laters tend to bring the most sweltering heat.
Jake watches us carefully before his eyes roam around the empty grocery store aisle. Both Jake and Rocky wear dapper suits like they stepped out of a board meeting an hour ago, but really, they attended a wine-tasting evening at the country club.
I served guests New Zealand whites from the region of Adelaide Hills and did my very best to annoy Claudia. I kept offering her a taste, and her lip curled higher and higher.
She wants nothing to do with me, and even when she commanded “Go” and swatted the air, I acted dumb and came back around. I just won’t go away.
I won’t listen.
I won’t obey.
It’s been fun trying to unzip the monster inside, but unfortunately, Rocky is dealing with a different species of beast.
“What if you brush him off once?” I ask Rocky. “Would it really ruin everything?”
“It’d piss him off. He likes his friends on a leash.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jake says, passing me the bottle of Bordeaux. “Without Phoebe.” It’s been clearer these days that Jake is trying to “big brother” Rocky—who has never had anyone outside of our two families outright, and genuinely, care about him.
I don’t think Rocky knows what to do with it yet. Other than be peeved. “You weren’t invited, sweetheart.” He flashes a dry smile.
“I’m a Koning,” he says with ironclad confidence. “I don’t need an invitation.”
Rocky lifts his brows, almost impressed. “Truth…I do like watching you go toe-to-toe with your brother, but you say about fifty percent of what I actually want to say to him.”
“You want to write a script? I’ll memorize it?”
I make a face. “Are you being serious?”
“I’d do anything,” Jake emphasizes with brimming anger. “Short of murder.”
“That shouldn’t even have to be stated,” I tell him, placing the wine gently next to a frozen pizza in the cart. “We’re trained to deceive, not to kill.”
Jake exhales a long, powerful breath, his gaze on Rocky. “What more do you want me to tell Trent? I’ll say it if you can’t.”
“Forget it.” Rocky texts again.
“Grey,” Jake forces out. “Let me. Help you.”
Rocky lifts his eyes off the screen. “You don’t want to become me, man. You don’t want to know what’s writhing in my head.”
“Maybe I do.”
“No. It’s good you’re only fifty percent acid, because if you go a hundred percent, you’ll only burn yourself.” He pats Jake’s firm chest. “Let it go, Prince Arthur.”
“You mean King Arthur.”
“You’re not a real king yet.”
Rocky cares about Jake, too.
He’s already giving me a hot fuck off look, since I am smug and happily drawing hearts around this newfound friendship. Despite the annoying aspects when it’s two v. one against me. The longer I gloat, the more Rocky stares me down like he’s a second from throwing me over his shoulder.
I’d like to see him try.
He yanks the cart forward, since I’m stalling for this conversation, and it slips out of my hands.
I give him a middle finger. Soon, we’re in a seasonal aisle, and with Easter approaching, the mountain of pastels and bunnies makes me feel like we’ve landed in the very trippy children’s video Wee Sing in the Big Rock Candy Mountains—which I loved growing up.