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)
“You care,” Jake points out. I think he’d even smile if he weren’t knee-deep in hatred and grief.
“Yeah, I do,” I state just as plainly.
The admission surprises him. He opens his mouth to reply, but his eyes trail past me into a deep, confused frown.
I follow his gaze. Oliver is coming toward us. Where’s Phoebe? I scan and just barely catch sight of her and my sister hand in hand as they trek higher up the hill. Hailey peers backward one time, and I see a lilac in her hair.
I see the twisted vine of lilacs in Oliver’s hand.
Jesus fuck. He did not put a flower in her hair tonight when she’s newly married.
Oliver swings a leg over the picnic bench. “Boys.” He up-nods Jake. “Dropped your crown, Koning.” He places the lilac wreath on his head, then winks at him.
I glare. “You’re doing too much.”
“Leave him alone,” Jake defends.
Oh my God. I can’t deal with whatever they are right now. The booms are shrill in my ears, and all the bright blues, greens, and purples try to heave me to somewhere outside of Boston. The Fuckup.
My little brother. A lake house shed. Gardening shears in another guy’s neck. I blink out of the memory, and I realize, “Have you seen Trent anywhere?”
“Not since he left the table,” Jake says.
The firstborn Koning has been the most popular person here outside of Hailey, and he’s suddenly MIA? His friends are gazing up at the fireworks. He should be with them.
Oliver does a casual scan. “No sign of your brother either.”
My gut drops out from underneath me. Fuck. “I’ll find him. Don’t wait for me. I won’t be coming back.” I hike my leg over the bench. “See you around, Jake.”
“Wait.” Jake catches my wrist, stopping me. His blue eyes hit mine in deeper concern. Worry. I see what he’s asking me. Is this going to be the last time we see each other?
Maybe. If this job doesn’t end well, this will be our goodbye.
My ribs knot, but I don’t dole out any false hope. I just nod to him, then say, “Try not to change too much, Jake. Places like this need more people like you.”
I feel his eyes on my back as I walk away.
I don’t have a crystal ball. I don’t know if things will go right. With Trevor missing at the same time as Trent, they’re already going wrong.
My brother has been under Trent’s wing for weeks, I remind myself. They could be conversing somewhere on the other side of the house. The Bennets aren’t letting anyone but staff and family inside, so I don’t bother checking the mansion.
I slip between servers handing out Prosecco. I ignore the several men who call my name. I act as if it’s too loud over the fireworks to hear.
I search without appearing like I’m on a life-or-death hunt for Trevor.
Trent likes to flaunt his relationship with my brother in my face. Clearly, he’s not dangling shit in front of me if I can’t find him.
As elbows brush me, as the scent of grilled corn and seafood floods my nostrils, as faces are bathed in color, I feel like I’m fifteen again. Rolling a dead body in a tarp. Carrying it through the woods with Oliver. Twisting my knee.
Then I find Trevor in the shadows on the Bennets’ property. All the breath I’d been caging rushes out of my lungs at once. I inhale deeply and pick up my pace into a jog just to reach him, then slow when I’m feet away.
He stands slumped, his back against a lilac tree.
As soon as the fireworks light up his gray eyes, and I see the absolute torture in them, I know something is very fucking wrong.
“Trev,” I whisper when I reach him. “Did he hurt you? Hey—” I hold his face as his gaze drags against the earth. I lift his head, and when I look into his eyes, I see pure fucking agony. My muscles sear inside out. “What’d he do?” I am two seconds from dragging Trent into the grill and making a burger out of his fucking face.
Trevor shakes his head just once. “He didn’t…he didn’t hurt me, Rock.”
I can’t untense. “You hurt him?”
He shakes his head again. I track his gaze down the hill. He’s staring at…Trent, who sips bourbon and rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, then snickers like a fucking prick.
Trent is accounted for then.
Trevor’s jaw tightens. He looks away, then scuffs the ground with his leather shoe. “I can’t do it anymore.” Pain lances his voice. His nose flares as he tries to control his emotions.
“Yeah?” The word sticks to the back of my throat. “Which part?”
“All of it.” Trevor looks up into the firework-lit sky. “The things he says about people…about our sister…I can’t…I can’t fake it. All I want to do is tell that bastard exactly what I think. I hate that I can’t. I hate that he just gets to…I hate it.” His eyes redden; he’s trying to stop himself from breaking down.