Chapter Eleven
ELEVEN
Phoebe
By the time Hailey, Oliver, Trevor, and I meet up with Nova at the marina and board Jake’s catamaran, my emotions have traveled all over the map. I went from wanting to stab Jake and Carter in the face to deciding to chuck the knife away. Am I too understanding? Because I get it.
I get the secrecy. I get not playing all your cards outright. I get needing help.
If Jake has any chance at succeeding, he definitely needs ours. Just like we need his—because is there anything more alluring than finally being rooted somewhere?
I’ve craved the moment where I can unpack my bags for longer than a few months. Where the next destination isn’t in our headlights, and where the place I love isn’t in my rearview mirror. We’re out of the car. It’s in the garage.
This town can be our home.
But there is one thing that’s more alluring.
Rocky.
Being with him for real. In my heart, I know I’d choose to be on the run forever if it meant I could have Rocky.
The more powerful desire is him.
I might be a true needy, greedy bitch because I want it all . The safety of his arms in the safety of a home.
Inside the catamaran, we’re all dressed in black for Emilia Wolfe’s impending funeral, but today feels more like the death of our covers.
We come into the cramped galley, and Rocky and Jake stand upon seeing us. Their attention beams down on me like I’m about to be sucked up into one of their spacecrafts.
Rocky, Rocky, Rocky , my heart would pick for me.
Only Jake knows I’ve gotten together with Rocky for real. I managed to keep that nugget of truth a secret from my best friend and my brothers, and with everything we just heard, my love life shouldn’t be the ultimate factor in what we do.
This isn’t just about me and him anymore.
Instead of confronting either guy, I catch Hailey’s hand and tug her into the kitchenette area, where blue-and-white striped dish towels hang above a stainless-steel sink.
“I can’t do this.” That’s not me whispering in panic. Hailey dips down her black ballcap with red embroidery that says Satan’s LIL Helper . It shadows her already sleep-stricken eyes. “He’s right there .”
“Who?” I whisper back.
Her eyes snap over to Carter, and her fair white skin goes rosy.
I instantly smile. Seeing my best friend smitten instead of distraught? I will take it a thousand percent. “I guess I don’t have to ask if your crush is still alive.”
“Shhhh, Phoebe .”
“They can’t hear.” I don’t think.
“It’s just a lot. There are a lot of pieces. A lot of pieces and pieces and men.” Her gray eyes dart between too many of the guys in the galley. She’s been making less and less sense to me, but you know what—she’s right . There are a lot of pieces to this puzzle and there are also a lot of men.
So she’s not losing it.
I touch her shoulders comfortingly. Her knit sweaterdress is soft, but an edgy black leather harness contraption is on top and matches her combat boots. “All the guys here are on our side,” I whisper. “Your brothers and my brothers. Jake and Carter, too.”
She peeks from under the brim of her ballcap. “They’re watching us.”
Aaaaand she’s right.
The air has thinned, and the concern for Hailey is choking out the galley.
Carter, who’s normally chipper, has a frown and bothered eyes, and he’s currently leaning forward to whisper with Jake across the table. As their gazes shift to Hailey, it’s clear they’re whispering about her.
They don’t need to act like the ground is falling beneath her feet. I have this under control. I am enough. I will catch her.
“Stop staring,” I snap at everyone. “We’re fine .” We aren’t the weak links, and I’m offended they’re acting like she has one foot on an explosive, one foot on land. She’s been doing the most of all of us. Of course she’s still tired.
Rocky squeezes out of the booth, and when our eyes meet, my heart flips and I intake a sharper breath. He seems to be caging oxygen, too, but instead of coming to us, he goes to whisper to his little brother, who’s raiding the fridge.
I don’t expect my oldest brother to lighten the mood. Nova is blocking the entryway with crossed arms and a stern you fuck with them, you fuck with me glare.
Oliver sinks down on the vacant seat beside Carter, as if there is zero tension to shred. “All I see are plotter-schemer friends here,” he says casually, drawing attention off Hailey.
Thank you, Oliver.
He has on dark Ray-Bans that cost four grand and a much pricier Tom Ford suit, and his warm, dyed-brown hair is artfully styled. He lifts the sunglasses to his head. “I don’t believe we truthfully met.” He’s speaking to Jake.
“Not truthfully.” Jake assesses him.
Oliver smirks and outstretches his hand. “Oliver Graves. The cute one.”
Carter laughs, then cocks his head to Jake. “He’s the dodgiest bloke.” He grins back at Oliver. “Missed opportunity not to call yourself Dodger, mate.”
“Call me whatever you want.” He lowers his shades and kicks back. “I’m just a bigger fan of Oliver .” He chose the name when he was ten after he read Oliver Twist and saw the movie. Dodger is a thief and leader of child criminals in the Dickens novel, and it would’ve been too on the nose to choose it for a name. But Oliver seemed to always care for the main protagonist: a young, orphaned boy born into poverty who later discovers he’s the illegitimate son of a rich man.
We hadn’t seen our dad in years at the time, and I wondered if my brother connected to the character’s longing for a paternal figure. He’s never been close to Everett Tinrock the way Nova has been.
“What do you mean by the dodgiest ?” Jake asks Carter.
Oliver stretches out. “It means I’m the smartest.” He mimes a brain explosion, then speaks in another language.
Jake shakes his head. “I don’t know Dutch.”
He switches to French, which we all understand certain phrases of, but not whatever he’s saying now; then Spanish (don’t know), Mandarin (definitely don’t know), Portuguese, Turkish, Gaelic. Jake can’t keep up with my brother any more than the rest of us can.
“Show-off,” Trevor mutters into a mini bottle of tequila.
Rocky tears it out of his hand before he sips it.
“They call him the chameleon,” Carter outs him.
An irrepressible smile pulls at my lips.
Were we all dumb to share our monikers with Carter like we were cool-ass bandits and he was the ripper of our wanted posters? In hindsight, probably, but also, it feels strangely liberating to invite someone else into our group.
It’s been decades of secrecy. Trusting another person is exhilarating.
Oliver waggles his fingers at Jake. “I’d say at your service , but you’re going to be at mine.” He winks.
“Yeah.” Jake seems hopeful. “I can work with that.” He surveys each of us around the galley.
“The getaway.” Carter points out Nova, who hasn’t budged an inch. I’m fairly certain two handguns and a knife are underneath his black bomber jacket.
“Nova Graves,” he reintroduces himself. “And fuck you for lying to my sister.”
Rocky is smirking near the fridge. Probably loving the dig at Jake.
I cut in fast, “We went over this before we got here.” An awkward heat bathes me. I told Nova that Jake’s deception didn’t matter. We’re all liars, really. But my brother feels like Jake violated my trust, which is worse because he’s in a power position and I’m not. “We weren’t truthful from the start either. No one has to apologize.”
“I’m still sorry,” Jake says. “To you both.” His gaze stays intimately on Hailey.
She shies at the attention. “No sorrys. Like Phebs said. Really. It-it’s okay.”
I squeeze her hand. She squeezes mine back tighter.
“Fresh beginnings for everyone,” Carter says lightheartedly. “Beautiful, innit?” He has a megawatt flirty smile on Hailey.
Oliver shifts out of a relaxed position.
She blushes again but crawls farther back into the kitchenette alcove. Bumping into the sink. “I can’t do this,” she whispers again.
I’m not used to seeing her lack of confidence with guys. She’s the one who will full-on approach a man at a bar and say, “ Want to fuck? ”
Literally!
I have been envious and captivated by the blunt sexiness of my best friend. Behind her RBF, she can unknowingly smolder and make men weak at the knees. Sure, sometimes the men are experiencing fear . But when she asks to blow them, nine out of ten—it’s lust .
Is she freaking out now because she has real romantic feelings for Carter?
It’s not just sexual desire?
She’s spellbound by his forging skills and Louvre-worthy fakes, and her long-standing crush is in the flesh while she’s only clocked an hour of sleep. That’d throw anyone off their A game.
“You’re doing great,” I encourage. “We’re breathing. We’re the best of the best, and they know it.” I wave my hand at them, uncaring if they see us gossiping about them. I hope they do.
“Yeah.” She nods. “We’re cool. We’re the best.”
“You’re the best best . Can’t be beat.”
Her soft smile appears. “No, you are, Phebs.”
I smile back, and we do our handshake: two pinky hooks and fist-bump explosion. Our smiles fade fast because Jake asks, “Do you have a problem with me?” He’s talking to Nova.
“Keep your word and we won’t have one. Break your word and I’ll break your neck.”
“After me,” Rocky interjects.
“I promise to be honest from here on out,” Jake assures us, then focuses back on Hailey. “What do they call you?”
“Hailey.”
“The mastermind.” Carter grins.
She does a small up-nod, not looking out from the brim of her hat.
“Phoebe, you’re…?” Jake starts.
I let Carter answer. “The seductress,” he announces.
Now I’m burning up at the many eyes upon me. Even being exposed to one person feels enormous. “Phoebe Graves,” I tell him, more aware of how my slim, black, silky dress molds to my hips and breasts.
“I have so many questions,” Jake mutters.
“She’s not a prostitute,” Nova slices in protectively.
Oh my God.
“That we know of,” Trevor deadpans.
Rocky smacks the back of his head.
I’m over Trevor.
We bickered all the way from the loft to the marina, and he’s made me feel fourteen, not twenty-four. I have the urge to lower myself to his lame back-and-forth insults, and I’m taking a new, mature stand by staying silent .
Nova is still staring down Jake. “If this whole thing is about you getting your dick wet, you can fuck off.”
“Nova,” I groan, my face in my palms. I peek between my fingers and see Jake glancing back at Rocky, like he’ll shovel him out of the ditch he’s dug with my brother.
Rocky holds up his hands. “You piss off Nova, that’s your bed to lie in.”
“Rocky’s been sleeping in it for the past decade,” Oliver pipes in with a smile.
“And you’re what?” Jake asks Rocky. “The manipulator?”
“He’s the silver tongue,” Carter reveals.
Rocky raises and lowers his brows.
Jake nods back, and do I sense…a shared respect? Are they getting along? My lungs inflate, and I wonder if a team-up could really work between us.
Trevor rests a forearm on Rocky’s shoulder. “You want to know what they call me?”
“A little turd,” I mention. My silence lasted like two seconds. I’m only somewhat ashamed.
“Wannabe stripper,” he slings back.
“ Trevor ,” Rocky grits out.
“You’ve said worse to her, come on.”
He swipes a hand across his eyes.
It admittedly turns me on when Rocky is mean. It does not turn me on hearing a stupid insult from his nineteen-year-old brother. And I am not about to explain that out loud.
Neither is Rocky.
“This shifty bloke here is the youngest of them.” Carter motions to the lankiest in the room. “The psychopath.”
“Trevor Tinrock,” he says flatly.
“The psychopath?” Jake repeats with hesitance.
“It’s a joke,” Rocky interjects.
“That’s news to me,” Oliver adds.
“And me,” Nova says.
“Self-diagnosed,” Hailey chimes in, staring faraway.
I weave my arms. “He wishes he were one. Because it’s so cool .”
“You don’t know what I’ve done, PG—”
“Enough,” Rocky snaps.
Jake checks the time on his watch. We should leave for the cemetery, but no one makes a move toward the exit.
“So you all have different specialties?” Jake asks us.
“Sort of,” I say.
“It’s what we were taught,” Hailey clarifies. “They separated some of us. Paired some together. We each have… had a purpose.” She’s unblinking and staring at everything but really at nothing.
It scares me. “Hails.” I squeeze her hand.
She doesn’t squeeze back.
“I think we should go,” I say.
“No,” Hailey breathes. “They need to know about them.”
“About who?” Jake asks.
She lifts her head up, and Jake meets her haunted gaze as she says, “The people who made us what we are.”
“Your parents?”
“Our parents,” Hailey repeats, sounding heartbroken. She pushes down the brim of her hat, and then she shakes her head slowly.
“Hails?” I whisper.
“No,” she croaks out. “They’re not…” Her headshakes become fiercer. “We don’t know…” She’s more distraught and tugs away from me, spinning rapidly in a circle like she’s searching for an exit.
I reach out for her, but she’s a bullet in the other direction.
Carter, Jake, and Oliver shoot to their feet—everyone is now standing as Hailey flees toward the doorway that Nova blocks.
He lets her easily through. I think because Oliver is on her heels.
She just needs air. She’ll be okay. My pulse pounds in my neck, and I chase after my best friend and come crashing into Nova’s firm chest.
He fills the exit again.
“ Nova ,” I say, hurt. “Let me through.”
He dips his head to whisper, “Oliver is with her.”
“I can be with her, too. She needs me.” Why is he looking at me like that? Hot tears burn my eyes. This is cruel and unusual from my brother. “Nova.”
His face fractures with shards of pain, too. “I love you, all right. I’m not doing this to hurt you.”
“Then let me through .”
“ I can’t ,” he forces out with reddened eyes. He checks on our audience behind me, then lowers his voice again. “He’s the only one who’s gotten her to sleep. Let him try to reach her right now without you.”
Pain wells up, but it’s not about me. This is about Hailey, and if she needs my brother and not me…I wince at myself. It’s just so strange . Why would she need him over me?
Bruised ego, check.
Let it go, Phoebe.
“Yeah…okay.” I back away from Nova like a wounded animal, and all I want to do is walk into the comfort of Rocky’s arms.
He’s right there. At the fridge. With a menacing, brooding look that feels naturally welcoming to me. His attention is mine—his gaze sweeping down me in a hard, caring stroke.
I stop short when Trevor whispers to his brother and steals half his focus.
Right.
No one knows we’re together. I really want to change that, but not now. Not after all this .
Carter and Jake are still standing. Still concerned. I doubt it could evaporate at this point. It’s a permanent weather condition. “What’s got Ailey so knackered?” Carter asks us.
We’re all quiet, casting furtive glances, wondering which one of us will spill the beans. We all end up staring at Rocky.
He rolls his eyes, then says, “Even if we tell you this, even if we agree to work together on a job, you could turn on us at the end.”
“I’ll give you my sister’s address,” Jake promises. “I love her. It’s the biggest collateral I have.”
“It could be easily faked, or she could move.”
Jake intakes the deepest breath. “Then you’re just going to have to trust me.” They hold each other’s gaze for what feels like a millennium.
I trust Jake, and I’m more afraid to lose him as a potential ally against our parents. Rocky is so mistrusting—he can’t believe in the weapon in front of him. He’d always think it was a trick. That the weapon was filled with blanks.
This gun feels lethal.
We need him.
He needs us.
I’m surprised when Rocky relents. “All right.” And he begins to tell them everything . “Our parents might not be our real parents. They’ve lied to us. That’s why my sister is so distressed. She’s been trying to figure out who the hell we really are.”
As he continues down the rabbit hole of our fucked-up lives and all we’ve learned since Halloween, Jake has a hand planted over his mouth. His brows are furrowed caterpillars of absolute shock and disturbance and…empathy.
Carter keeps rubbing his chin and jaw like they’re aching. He’s the one muttering “Bloody fucking hell” and “No way” and shaking his head like Rocky is describing the horror plot to The Hills Have Eyes and not, you know, our actual lives. He, too, empathizes, and I thought it’d be uncomfortable.
I thought I’d crawl into myself and want to hide behind aliases and deceit. I didn’t think telling the truth would feel like purging twenty-four years of cumbersome weight.
For other people to care about us, the genuine and real us …it’s overwhelming.
I breathe in helium. Dizzy and high with a newfound feeling.
When Rocky is finished, the first thing Jake says is, “I’m going to help you. All of you.” It’s a resolute, unwavering promise.
“You can try to King Arthur this,” Rocky tells him, “but you’re not wearing the crown yet, Koning boy.”
“He’s still an heir,” Carter reminds him. “He might not be able to dupe your parents, but he can protect you while you’re in town. I think I’ll stick around, too.”
Hailey’s crush is staying . I smooth my lips over a burgeoning smile. Maybe her Mystic Pizza romance will seriously come to fruition here. My smile slowly fades as I remember how she fled the catamaran. Maybe a happy distraction will help her mind rest.
Carter moves out of the booth and tosses Jake his peacoat.
Jake catches it. “You don’t have to go back to York?”
“I thought you were in Manchester now?” Rocky questions.
“I’m here, I’m there.” Carter smiles. “And I’ve got time to spare, and my grannie still lives on the harbor. Might as well pay a long-extended visit and see if she knows anything about Addison and Elizabeth.” His lips drag into a frown. “I am sorry…about what they might’ve done. If I had known you weren’t really theirs…I would’ve told one of you.”
“Thanks, Carter,” I say from the sincerest place I can.
He nods to me. “Tell Ailey we’ll catch up when she’s hit the hay, yeah? That Ocean Pearl needs an Uncle Ned about yesterday.” He laughs to himself at my quizzical expression. I wish Oliver were still here to translate that Cockney slang for me. Then Carter’s light on his feet and en route to leave the catamaran.
“Wait,” Rocky calls out, stopping Carter at the exit beside my oldest brother. “They’re here. In Victoria.”
“Who?”
“Addison and Elizabeth,” Rocky says. “They just arrived about a week ago.”
Nova warns him, “We don’t know if they’ll be at the funeral.”
I offer this fun-sized piece of info. “They’re posing as matchmakers.”
Jake freezes midway into slipping his arms into the peacoat. “Isla and Wendy are the women who raised you?” He glances between all of us.
“In the flesh,” Rocky says dryly.
I explain, “They’re hoping this matchmaking thing will be a short con and we’ll leave town with them.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Carter says, lost a little in thought before he disappears.
The rest of us aren’t far behind.
—
It’s pouring when we reach the cemetery. Rain slips off hundreds of black umbrellas as people surround the freshly dug grave for Emilia Wolfe. Several socialites offer parting words, including Jake’s mom, but they lament more about the town than about the woman who left it.
“She lived a wonderful life in Victoria, as we all do.”
“The Wolfes will always be a hallmark here.”
“Their names are etched in the very foundation of town hall.”
I see necks craning and eyes shifting. The wealthy elite are taking stock of who’s in attendance, and I wonder if they’re noting Hailey’s and Oliver’s absence, or if they’re not influential enough to matter.
They matter to me.
I shoot both a text, hoping all is okay, and I ignore the knotting in my stomach.
It becomes painfully obvious I am a person of interest. Probably because I’m standing between my situationship—Jake and Rocky.
Neither one touches me. There are undefined parameters regarding us . But I’m sharing an umbrella with my fake boyfriend. Jake hoists it above the two of us, and rain pings against the black, tented fabric.
As the funeral winds down, whispers and disappointed frowns take flight. Most suffered through the storm and service to catch a glimpse of the elusive Varrick Wolfe, the son-in-law to Emilia, but he’s a no-show.
I care less about that chupacabra and more about the ones who raised me. Luckily, they don’t seem to be making an appearance today either.
The coffin is lowered into the ditch. While people begin to disperse, sloshing in the muddy terrain, Jake leads me away from the crowds and to his grandfather’s grave.
It’s private.
Canopies of old oak trees catch the rainfall, and fog hangs low across the historic headstones.
“Addison hates being dirty, so maybe they were avoiding mucking up their Louboutins,” I theorize to Jake, of all people, but Rocky is hanging back at Emilia’s grave and socializing with several contacts he’s made while being Grey Thornhall.
Valentina de la Vega. (Caufield MBA student and stunningly beautiful. I have eyes.)
Damian Bennet. (Son of the third founding family.)
Collin Falcone. (Supposed loyal best friend to Trent Koning Waterford and a notorious partier.)
“I’m glad she didn’t make it,” Jake says, and I agree, letting the convo about Addison end there. I’m not looking to dig deep into the pain of what has happened. I’d rather move forward, and I think Jake senses that, too. He keeps the umbrella steady over us as we walk between the many grave markers. “I hate cemeteries,” he breathes.
“I love them.”
His laugh turns into a smile. “The horror-movie lover in you?”
“That and…” I look around at the names scrawled across dozens of weatherworn stones, some graves nestled only inches apart. “It’s lineages of people buried together. Families. A visual representation of close bonds between those who mattered to each other.” I smile back at him. “It’s love in death. So in that sense, cemeteries are romantic .”
“Okay, yeah. When you put it like that.” His lips rise higher. “Does your ex-husband have the same feelings?”
Ex-husband. Shit.
We forgot to clear up this last lie, and is it bad if I don’t want to? I love pretending to be Rocky’s ex-wife. There is no better term that encompasses the messy depth of our history.
“Uh.” I blink past that speed bump. “No, he hates cemeteries, like you. He’s ridiculously superstitious.”
“Really?”
“Oh, to the max .” My cheeks hurt in a smile. “He would probably never step foot on cemetery grass if he could help it, but he’ll do it for…” I flush.
“For you,” Jake guesses, sweeping his eyes over my features.
“Yeah, but also for Hailey. Trevor. All of us. When I told you he’d do anything for his friends, what I meant is he’d do anything for the five of us. He has done more than you can ever know.”
“I’m sure,” he says, still in the slight haze of realizations.
As we draw farther and farther from the freshly dug grave, I’m afraid to lose sight of Rocky in the distance. I love casting sly glances back.
I love locking eyes in secret, pulse-pounding seconds. I love the iron-strong tether between me and him, and anyone who tries to break it will trip and fall. Maybe it’s why I’m not overly concerned for our real relationship amid a potential job.
If we were going to get together, it’d always have to work inside what we do.
Unless, of course, I quit this lifestyle, but that’s not even an option I want to mull over right now.
I risk a glance back at Rocky.
His dark gaze fastens to mine, and my heart double beats when he shakes Damian’s hand in goodbye, then aims for us with an unyielding, confident stride.
Jake sees and slows down so Rocky can catch up. We don’t have much of an audience over here, and Rocky interrupting me and Jake would just stoke the narrative that my ex-husband is still pining after me and can’t leave me alone.
“Phoebe was just telling me you hate cemeteries,” Jake says.
Rocky grips an umbrella with one hand and brushes his hair with the other, all while staring intensely down at me. “Can’t stop talking about me?” Okay…that was extremely hot.
But I’m not falling all over him. “I could go on about all the things you hate, but it’d shave ten years off my life, so you’re lucky I even shared one thing.”
His lips nearly twist in a smile. He angles his umbrella, shielding us from view of the gravesite we deserted, and using the discreet moment, he whispers against my ear, “I’d say you love me in your mouth, but I haven’t been there yet.”
The image of his cock between my lips causes me to throb, and I’m not even a fan of blow jobs, so what is happening?
Jake is watching my breath hitch. I’m more aware of him here, and it’s a little obvious Rocky just aroused me. Minorly. Minorly aroused.
Rocky seems satisfied.
I might like how he came on to me in front of Jake. Is that weird? It’s not a sudden revelation that I enjoy being possessed by him, and if we’re extending this fake-dating thing, I hope he never stops.
“How long have you two really been together?” Jake wonders. “Were you ever actually divorced?”
I think he believes we’ve always been married—that there was no breakup.
I tense. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s not that complicated,” Rocky says curtly.
I glare. “But it is .”
“Watch me explain it then.” He sets his gunmetal gaze on Jake. “She’s been everything to me for too many years. It’s been a marriage of both convenience and inconvenience. Of pure love and pure hell, and I wouldn’t give up one to have the other. They coexist unnaturally , but nothing about us has ever been normal. So you don’t need to scrounge around for a fucking term for what we are together because there isn’t going to be one bone-deep enough that fits.”
My eyes burn with emotion. My lungs swell. I bite the corner of my lip to keep a smile at bay, especially while Rocky has a dark threat in his eye toward Jake.
“Is that good enough for you, sweetheart?” Rocky asks him. “Or do you want me to throw her diary at you, too?”
“Like you would let me read it,” Jake quips back.
“I don’t have a diary,” I cut in. “That’d be careless in our line of work, and we have to be careful. Even now.”
“We’ll be careful,” Jake assures me. “You two have history, and I know I’m in the middle of it. So you give me the boundaries. I won’t cross them.”
Rocky and I share an intense look, and my pulse will not slow.
We’re really doing this.
“We’re not even sure how long this job will take,” I tell Rocky.
He adjusts his tight grip on his umbrella, staring deeper into me. “It could take a really long fucking time.”
“And you still want to do this?” If it’s torture for him, I’ll say no to Jake. We can find another way. I’d drive myself over the edge watching Rocky be physically close to another person that’s not me. Hell, that’s all we’ve done in the past. Torment each other to no end.
So I’m not surprised when he says, “Yeah, it’s what I’m used to.” After a crack of lightning, he tells me, “Some things are bigger than us, Phebs. But I am always, always with you. There’s never been a moment where I haven’t been.”
I breathe in the sentiments. “I know.” It’s why I’m also very willing to agree. This is about my best friend, his brother, and my brothers. And who am I if I’m not a team player? Who am I if I’m not even part of the team?
It’s been clear all six of us want what Jake is offering when we complete this job. And the idea of turning Victoria into a “fun zone” where we can pull a con had Trevor foaming at the mouth on the car ride here.
I don’t love being in the same camp as Rocky’s brother, especially when I’ve been toying with quitting a life of deception—but diving into a job and screwing someone over, it stokes a giddy anticipation, like I’m tiptoeing to the edge of a cliff.
“I might be an adrenaline junkie,” I tell Rocky.
His smile inches up. “You think?”
I smile back. “You aren’t going to say we’re one and the same?”
“Some things between us have never needed to be said.” That’s more than true, and even though we can’t touch in this cemetery, in this second, I feel Rocky all over my body in ways only he can be.
There is an electric feeling that yes, this will work between us . If not, we’ll beat against the obstacle until it does work. Come hell or high water.
We like living in that, too.