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 does have a point.
I’m used to the end of bad jobs when we pack our bags and forge ahead as if we never waded through a toxic spill. I can feel the acid searing my ankles this time. I wonder if it’s better to feel something than to feel nothing at all.
I’ve been either numb or angry for so long. Maybe I do need time to process, because I’ve never left Hailey in that position before…in my position. And we weren’t even working a con. She wasn’t pretending to be someone else. She was herself. That happened to Hailey. It’s awarded me new gnarled feelings I can barely untangle and a brand-new perspective on my life.
I turn to my best friend. “What do you want to do, Hails?”
Her gray eyes travel to the window. “The rain is letting up. It’s supposed to be warm today. I could read on the beach.”
“And I could suntan and flip through a Celebrity Crush mag.” We exchange growing smiles, solidifying this normalcy, and it’s strange but kind of nice to have this option.
Thanks, Jake.
Hailey is a more pleasant person than me, because she verbalizes her gratitude in a soft “Thank you.”
* * *
—
By the early afternoon, the clouds make way for a sunny blue sky. We all end up on the public beach and not the country club’s private one, where we’d be able to rent cabanas and chairs. It’s a change of pace for the guys, but no one puts up a stink about roughing it with the plebs.
We claim a sandy spot near the lapping sea and away from any screaming children. Much to Rocky’s delight, I’m sure. He acted like he had an instant root canal when he heard shrieking in the parking lot. A toddler cried about his sandy feet, and his mom frantically cleaned his toes with wet wipes.
“Are we sure that little hellion doesn’t belong to Grey?” Oliver bantered with a smile while carrying the umbrella for me.
Nova shut the trunk, a cooler of beer and sparkling water in hand.
I think Rocky’s eyes are still rolling from the asphalt to the beach. I also took note of the tiny glimpse he cast me. Babies. The future. Our future. He hasn’t asked me again if I want kids. I haven’t broached the topic either.
We are stubbornly not discussing what we want months from now, let alone years. It feels like wasted breath when everything could change if this job doesn’t go our way.
On the beach, I spread my pink strawberry towel beside Hailey’s checkered black one.
I slip a glance back at Rocky while he stakes the umbrella in the brown sand. Tendrils of his black hair brush his forehead, and his aggravated, pissed-off eyes make me smile bit by bit.
You’d think he hates the beach. The scorching heat. Sweat dripping down his jawline. The salty scent of the ocean. Granules of sand going everywhere.
And he does hate it all.
Yet, he’s here. For me, for his sister, for every one of us. As his narrowed eyes flash over to me, I’d like to believe he’s mostly here for me, and when his affection sinks into me like razor-sharp teeth against my tender flesh, I sense that’s true. That at the end of the day, I am his first reason and maybe even his last, too.
Eventually, I peel away from Rocky and Hailey to take a walk with my brothers. I’m closest to the water, feeling shorter on the downward slope of the sand.
Nova picks up seashells every time he spots one, just to chuck them into the waves. “You haven’t talked to Rocky about last night?”
“He’s rehashed the horrible events to me.” I fix my twisted baby-blue bikini strap on my shoulder.
“But he said you haven’t talked about it, so what were you doing all this morning with him?” Off my raised brows and head tilt, Nova expels a heavy sigh and launches another shell into the water. “Do you two even communicate beyond fucking?”
“That is communication,” I argue, then look to Oliver for backup.
“It is,” Oliver chimes in while lathering sunscreen on his cut biceps. “They’re communicating with their bodies.”
“Exactly. We don’t always need words.” It’s deeper with Rocky.
He chucks another shell. “You two need to slow down. One unplanned pregnancy is already one too many.”
Oliver squeezes Nova’s shoulder. “You’re only saying that because you don’t like babies.”
“I’ll like yours,” Nova says.
“Might be Jake’s,” Oliver reminds him, and before we can ask, he says, “The paternity doesn’t matter. I just want Hailey and the baby to be healthy.”
“Agreed,” Nova and I say together.
“Jinx,” I add fast. “You owe me a Fizz.”
Nova almost smiles, but he just has to reinforce his point: “Seriously though. Slow down.”
“Rocky and I are using condoms. We’re having safe sex,” I assure. “And, no, I’m not slowing down.”