Chapter Twenty
Phoebe
It’s been a week in Victoria and a few days since the boathouse party, and I try to dump my energy in anything other than Rocky. But his words from the bathroom that night are a wrecking ball in my head.
He told his father he had a crush on me.
It’d been different just theorizing our parents saw a “spark” between us. Knowing they had legit knowledge that Rocky liked me and they just disregarded his emotions... and even toyed with them—it makes bile rise in my throat. I feel sick and furious, and I’d like to have strong, nasty words with Everett.
Trust is invaluable to us. I can’t wrap my head around how he could betray his son. Above all, that’s his child, but I always thought our parents cared more for us than the average parent.
Because they brought us into their fabricated worlds and didn’t leave us out.
They’ve been genuine about who they are and what they do, and they could’ve so easily lied. Hell, normal parents keep their kids in the dark all the time. They hide their youthful stints with drugs. They hide affairs.
Once we were a good age where we’d understand the gravity of what our parents do, they told us everything. They even taught us their trade.
We’ve been their accomplices. Their partners in crime.
Everett had no reason to be that cruel. I can only assume that he sidelined Rocky’s feelings for the supposed betterment of the con.
Now I understand why Rocky wouldn’t trust him most of all. Our moms... I don’t know. I’d like to ask them directly what Everett shared, but asking them means talking to them—and they apparently believe Hailey and I are in Indiana dealing with a catfish gone wrong. Despite the urge, I still won’t call my mom and make things messier.
At least things are going amazingly on the normalcy front.
More lies.
Everything is a struggle. Money, work, trying not to lie my way through life. But each time I think about why I’m here and why I’m putting myself through unnecessary torture, my resolve returns tenfold.
Hailey wants this. And I’d do just about anything for her.
Which included punt-kicking Rocky out of the loft this morning. It’s been a week. His time here has expired, and he told me he found another place in town anyway.
He’s not leaving yet. I partially expected him to be long gone after the boathouse party. Move on, Rocky. But then I remembered he’s not here to ignite a small-town romance with me.
He’s here to watch out for his little sister.
So he’s staying. For how long? He might not even know.
Today and tomorrow and forever is about my life sans that asshole. So I employ three strong words every time he invades my brain.
No more Rocky.
I bump my hip against the bookshop door, hands filled with two disposable coffee cups. I’m not a big coffee snob, but Hailey will be able to tell this is drip. I looked over her Excel sheet this morning, and we have to cut out some of our usual luxuries. Including our morning cinnamon latte macchiatos, something that our moms got us into when we were teens.
Winding around a couple of bookcases, I spot Hailey standing in the back flipping through a paperback. I’m about to head to her when a store clerk intercepts me.
I take quick note of his well-groomed beard, black-rimmed glasses, blue-green plaid shirt, and tan Sperry boots. Twenties or thirties, I guess. It’s hard to tell with the beard. His name tag reads Mason.
“Excuse me,” he says earnestly. He glances sheepishly toward the back of the store at Hailey. “Do you know her?”
I try to contain a smile. He must like Hailey.
But he’s obviously intimidated to approach her. Chains are linked on the belt loops of her black cargo pants, and her combat boots are studded with spikes. Her black lipstick matches the smoky shadow that shades her gray eyes, which are pinched in concentration.
She’s giving off resting bitch face.
As her best friend, I can confidently say she’s out of everyone’s league. I have yet to meet someone good enough for her. It definitely won’t be Mason here, but he’s not bad looking and I can play the part of wingwoman. He just has to have some sort of talent to catch Hailey’s eye.
“I know her,” I tell him. “She’s my best friend.” I don’t know why I emphasize best like I’m a toddler who just made her first friend.
He lets out a breath of relief. “Great. Can you tell her she needs to stop reading the books? This isn’t a library.”
What?
Okay, now I’m mad.
“It’s not a crime to flip through some books before buying them,” I defend her instantly. “How else will she know if she wants to buy it?”
“She’s not flipping through the books.” He lowers his voice to an angry whisper. “People who flip through books don’t go page by page, front cover to back. I’ve stood here and watched her read three books in the span of twenty minutes.” His eyes flit to her, but Hailey is absorbed in her paperback, not even breaking her gaze from the pages.
Sure enough, she is flipping each page. Very quickly.
“You’ve been watching her for twenty consecutive minutes?” I ask with the raise of my brows.
He eats air, chasing after words in his head. “I... that’s not the point. She can’t read the entire book.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say more casually, trying to play it off. “No one can read that fast.”
“Obviously, she can,” he refutes. “And as her best friend, I’d like you to tell her to either stop reading the books front to back or better yet—buy a book.”
I narrow my eyes. “And why can’t you tell her yourself, Mason?” He’s been watching her for twenty minutes after all.
Flush ascends his neck. “She looks... you know...”
“Like she’d dick punch you?”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it.
Truth is, I’m the one who’s seconds away from dick punching. But I’m not leaving this town tomorrow. I have a reputation and all. So I take a steadying breath and say, “I’ll let her know.”
I leave his side.
“Wait—which part?” Worry clings to his voice, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.
Hailey still doesn’t glance up from her book when I step to her side. I clear my throat.
“Hold on,” she says. “He’s about to confess his love—oh wait, he killed her.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
She frowns. “Yeah...” She shuts the book and looks at the cover. “Oh, I thought I was reading a romance. I think this might be a thriller.”
“Maybe it’s both,” I tell her, handing her the extra cup. “Villains have to fall in love, too.”
She places the book back on the shelf and takes the coffee. Her gaze swings past me. “That guy has been staring at me for twenty minutes.”
She’s more perceptive than I give her credit for.
“Yeah, he wanted me to tell you that this isn’t a library. You can’t read the books without buying them. But he’s an asshole and was too chickenshit to come tell you himself, so until he does, you can do what you want.” I hold my cup up to her and she cheers with me.
As soon as we both take sips, she winces. I wince off her wince.
Okay, maybe I am a coffee snob.
“This is...” Hailey peers into her cup like she can find the problem.
“Awful,” I agree. “Who knew our mothers would ruin our coffee palates?”
Like I summoned her from the ether, my phone pings with a beep beep that sounds like a Minion from Despicable Me.
Hailey’s face falls. “Don’t look at it.”
“It’ll eat at me all day,” I refute, and maybe I’m more nihilistic after what Rocky confessed. A bristling anger has trumped some fear. I set the coffee cup on a side table beside a decorative ceramic bear holding a sign that says HELLO MY NAME IS: WILLIAM SHAKESBEARE.
Clicking into my cell, I see the caller ID: LAURIE STRODE.
My favorite horror movie mom.
I’ve never seen my mom wield a knife like Jamie Lee Curtis’s character in the Halloween franchise, but I’ve always thought she’s just as resilient.
My stomach does a nosedive at the text.
Laurie Strode: It isn’t like you to want to miss out on a job, bug. Call me. Worried about you.
She still cares about me. She always has. And I’m not lumping her in with Everett. Innocent until proven guilty, right? I should give her the benefit of the doubt.
Hailey reads the text over my shoulder. Then her phone beeps with the normal preset tone. She swings off her black studded mini-backpack and fishes out her cell. “They’re probably at brunch texting us at the same time,” she theorizes. As soon as she clicks into her messages, she sighs and hands me the phone.
Mother: The Belle is missing at the ball. Clock has struck twelve. Where’s Alice?
Hailey and Addison love talking in riddles together. I never understood it, but Hailey said it’s fun word games.
“Why couldn’t she just say you’re late?” I ask, returning her cell.
“She did.” Hailey’s about to chuck her phone into her backpack when it beeps again. I read over her shoulder.
Little Brother: Did you find a new job?
“What do I say?” Hailey asks. Like me, it’s a lot harder for her to ghost her siblings.
“Just tell him to talk to Rocky.” Shirking the responsibility on Rocky doesn’t feel great, but his whole purpose for being out here is to make sure we don’t get into trouble.
No more Rocky.
How’s that going for me?
Superbly. Just... so wonderful. I’m doing backflips down the aisles.
She starts composing a text, and the chimes to the bookshop door jingle.
Jake Waterford has entered the chat. He catches my eyes, and I figure I’ll just get a friendly wave, but he surprisingly approaches.
“Is he gone?” Jake asks.
I jerk back. “That doesn’t feel like a country club welcome. Didn’t you take cotillion?”
He side-eyes me. “I’m not really in the mood for perfunctory politeness.” He glances over at Hailey for a quick second. “Is your brother out of the loft?”
Hailey texts on her phone and says, “Oh yeah, he left this morning.”
“Can you show me?” he asks.
Her phone beeps, and her lips downturn at a new text from her brother. “I’m kind of busy...”
I turn to our landlord. “I’ll show you, since you seem to have a hard-on for evidence.”
Jake blinks slowly, like this is not the outcome he’d hoped for. Hailey was his first choice. Noted. He takes a readying breath before he just nods. He follows me out of the bookshop and then up the flight of stairs to the loft.
I push the door open, and Jake asks, “Mind if I just check all the rooms?”
He hates him that much? I can’t remember the last time Rocky has rubbed someone this raw. “Sure,” I say. “Don’t forget to check under the beds. I hear that’s where the monsters live.”
Before Jake can move toward my bedroom, two guys emerge from the room. The leaner of the two has a crooked grin as he says, “Don’t know of any monsters under any beds. But I can point you in the direction of a few.”
I ignore the confusion wafting from Jake’s body. I can’t help it. I grin. “Oliver.”
“Little sister.”
Elation surges as I rush toward him and go in for a hug, barely registering the truth he spoke out loud. His arms swoop around me in brotherly affection. At six-foot-three, he’s much taller than me. Wavy pieces of his light brown hair fall into his eyes, and his long trench coat looks like something from a Banana Republic catalog. He pulls off the preppy style with pure ease.
Oliver was helping Mom with a job in Minneapolis while we were in Carlsbad. I haven’t seen him in person in a good four months.
“Phoebe.” That voice comes from deeper in the hallway.
I break from Oliver to see Nova propped against the wall, his muscles flexed, hair shaved short. He has light facial scruff, and he wears his usual we need to talk about business expression along with his staple utility jacket that he mostly wears off jobs.
I want to hug him, too, but I hesitate since he hasn’t called me his sister.
His eyes flit to Jake. “You are?”
“Landlord,” Jake says, crossing his arms. “I’m not sure if Phoebe told you, but guests aren’t allowed to stay longer than a week and Rocky has already capped that perk out.”
Pretty sure that’s not how the rental contract phrased it, but I don’t want to ruffle Jake’s precious peacock feathers more than Rocky has.
“We won’t be staying here,” Nova confirms. “I take it you’re not a Rocky fan.” Oh, my brother is definitely prying. He must know it’s strange for Rocky to have already made an enemy in town.
“To put it mildly,” Jake says. “How do you know Phoebe?”
“We’re both her brothers,” Oliver clarifies first, and I can’t remember that truth feeling this good. A brightness swells in my chest, and I breathe in the filling sentiment.
“The three of us,” Nova chimes in, “we’re not just brothers and sister.”
I go still. He’s not going to...?
He won’t say the whole truth.
Is he really...? My head is spinning.