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)
We all decided it’s safer to remain in Victoria without ties to the past. We’ve never been in one place for this long, and preserving who we are now is more important than trying to become someone else.
“Is this the end?” Trevor asks us. “Are we seriously never going to pull another job again?”
Oliver smiles first, then Rocky, and it feels infectious. I catch Phoebe’s big grin. Nova smiles down at the earth, and before I know it, my cheeks hurt, too.
“Once a spider, always a spider,” Rocky tells him.
“Translation?” Trevor asks.
“We’re going to protect this town and our identities here for the rest of our lives. In the way we all know how. Anyone who’s a threat to us becomes a mark.”
Rocky never lied when he said he’d never quit grifting. He’s conditioned to protect us, and even when the dust has settled, he’ll still set his sights on the people who kick it up.
I look at Olly. “Our final web is Victoria.”
He smirks. “I do love trapping prey.”
“And predators,” Phoebe adds.
“Always,” Rocky says deeply.
Trevor begins to really smile, happy we aren’t disbanding. We’re just doing things our way now.
“I gotta head out,” Nova says, tucking the shoebox beneath his arm.
“Midnight booty call?” Phoebe teases.
“No, I’m exhausted,” Nova says. “You all are fucking exhausting.”
“Let the old man sleep,” Oliver quips.
Nova must really be tired. He doesn’t remind Olly that he’s only minutes older than him. In the moonlight, the long scar on his cheek is more noticeable. I know Rocky wanted to protect Nova from killing Varrick by being the one to do it, but I think it had to be Nova in the end.
Phoebe said he’s more at peace.
He gives us a tired, stiff wave, but we all know he’ll wait in his Pontiac near the exit. Just to ensure we all make it out of the cemetery okay.
Trevor trudges in the same direction. “I do have a booty call.”
“Ew.” Phoebe grimaces.
“He’s your actual brother, PG.” Trevor points toward Nova’s shadow.
“One was a joke.”
Trevor opens his mouth, but Rocky cuts in, “Go fuck your girlfriend. Don’t waste time antagonizing Phoebe.”
Jake sighs. “We really need to go over what shouldn’t be said when the baby is born.”
“Yep.” I nod in agreement.
Trevor strolls down the slope, hands in his pockets. He fades into the darkness. Then Oliver walks backward in the same direction out of the cemetery.
I find myself drifting.
Not a mental drift.
A good drift as my feet—one in front of the other—follow Oliver, and Jake isn’t so immune to the pull. His strong arm curves around my frame, warming me, and he smiles as Oliver lifts his flask and toasts, “To Baby.” We still haven’t decided on a name for her yet.
Baby, she’s been for now.
Oliver drinks, then makes another toast to endings and beginnings.
“And middles,” I add.
“Why a middle?” Jake asks me.
I look from him to Oliver. “That’s where most love is made.”
Their emerging smiles cause my face to heat, and I hope I never stop blushing. I hope love always kisses my cheeks with fire.
When we’re farther down the hill, I cast one glance backward. Phoebe and Rocky linger behind together, as they’ve done most of our lives, stealing a clandestine moment at the headstones.
And I smile softly.
FIFTY-ONE
Rocky
Past midnight now, we’re the last to leave the quiet cemetery. As Phoebe and I head out, she takes one more peek at the four crumbling grave markers. “Will you move them?” she asks, collecting her blue hair into a ponytail. “To be with the other Wolfes? Daphne and Brent?” My late aunt and uncle.
“I don’t want to disturb them.” I steal the hair tie off her wrist. “I might just get new headstones made.” I bite the hair tie, and Phoebe moves in front of me. She tries not to melt like a fucking Popsicle while I pull her hair into a pony for her, using two hands.
“Admit it,” she says, her back bumping into my chest.
“You’re obsessed with me doing your hair,” I mumble. Taking the hair tie out of my mouth, I say clearly, “Can admit.”
“Not that.”
“Then what?” I finish tying off her pony.
She spins around to face me. “You’re sentimental. You cherish things.”
“People.”
“Things. Example number one.” She waves back toward the illegible headstones that I’m ninety-nine percent sure I will replace.
“That’s people adjacent,” I argue, watching her continue to walk backward over limestone, roots, and fallen leaves. I stay so close, knowing she’s going to trip at some point.
“Example number two.” She flips me off with her ring finger, showing off the glinting diamond.
It almost makes me smile seeing it on her. Remembering Miami, marrying Phoebe in this diabolical, overly handsy way that fueled something in my soul—it was real in a lot of ways, even if it was part of the job.
I nod to the ring. “Also people adjacent.”