Chapter Thirty-Three
Phoebe
Pacing back and forth in my bedroom, I stare at a piece of paper in my hand. I’ve replayed what Rocky said happened at the horse stables a million and one times.
Oh wait, he said nothing. That’s right. Rocky has been withholding the one piece of information I asked him to help retrieve.
I mimic him and his stupidly gruff voice. “It’s a lot, Phebs. Just give me a sec.” I exhale a pissed breath. “Lies. You had to go flee town for a stupid cash grab.”
After the horse stables, he immediately packed his bags and left for Rhode Island. He even took Oliver with him. Something about needing a large chunk of change quickly.
I didn’t have the chance to see them go. He called from the car. I’ll tell you everything when I get back. I don’t want to do this over the phone.
“It hasn’t been just a sec,” I mutter hotly, still pacing. “It’s been two awful weeks.”
And it’s been the worst two weeks since I arrived in Victoria. Not because of my job. Katherine has removed her claws from my shoulders. Mr. Burke barely acknowledges my existence. Guests at the country club chat with me like I’m heir adjacent. All because I’m dating Jake, and his social status has boosted mine into a glittery stratosphere.
Hailey and I even found an honest path to cover rent for the rest of October. We parted ways with our matching diamond bracelets, gifts from our moms when we were twelve. And the family dinner with Jake’s parents was postponed after Mr. Waterford came down with the flu.
These two weeks should’ve been the best ever. Easy job. No big financial concerns. No interactions with Jake’s influential family.
No Rocky.
I hated it. I hated that he wasn’t here. I hated that I missed him every time I thought about him and my heart clenched. I hated wishing for his stupid comebacks and eye rolls. I hated how each day passed, and I just hoped and hoped that each day would be the day he’d return.
“He shouldn’t have left,” I say, my lungs on fire. I need him. “I don’t need him.” I want to pace, but I’m glued to the floor, the paper crumpling in my tight fist. I want him. “I don’t want him.” My eyes burn. “I’m not a needy bitch. I’m...” I swallow a rising lump.
What is wrong with me?
“I just want answers about Jake,” I tell myself.
I know, I know... I’m lying.
Unfurling the crinkled paper, I try to focus on other problems. The clip joint job in Seattle ends today, and since our parents know we’re in Victoria, they could show up tomorrow, two days from now, a week, a month—we have no idea.
Hailey and I have been trying to prepare a list of what we’ll say to them.
I uncap my pen with my teeth, and resting the paper on my dresser, I scribble a second point beneath my first.
I’m twenty-four. I can choose what I want to do with my life.
If you ever need my help, I can only do it through honest means. I won’t pretend to be someone I’m not.
Yeah, this is a recipe for disaster. My mom might think she failed me somehow and even blame herself.
I already hear her response and see her saddened eyes. Someone you’re not? Bug, you’ve never been anyone other than who you are. This is you.
“This is me,” I mutter to myself, not disagreeing since I literally went to the movie theater to establish my fake relationship, but I haven’t been miserable in Victoria. I’ve liked knowing we’re not packing our bags and fleeing. I like trying to make one life work instead of reinventing myself every time I arrive somewhere new.
I never knew I’d enjoy being rooted to a place, but I haven’t wanted to abandon this town.
I’ve just wanted Rocky to come back to me.
Folding up my paper, I go to the kitchen barstools where Hailey is working on her list. Trevor is camping out on the couch, scrolling through Netflix like he owns the place. He tinkers with a wooden box on his lap.
His presence here is a ticking bomb, counting down the seconds until our parents arrive. He’s also made that couch his bed for two weeks. And no—Jake has no idea we’ve sufficiently lit his favorite no extended guests rule on fire.
“How’s it coming?” I ask, sliding onto the barstool beside her.
“I have a few things.”
She has more than twenty bullet points, but over half are scratched out. I watch Hailey chew on her thumbnail. Concern balls in my ribs.
I should tell my mom that this is about the life I’m supporting for Hailey. The future my best friend wants, and the one I’ve started growing to like, too.
My mom would do anything for Addison, and Addison would do anything for my mom. They should understand they raised two girls who are unfailingly loyal to each other—who’d go to great lengths to see the other happy.
I recap my pen. “We’re burning these later?” I ask Hails since we don’t like keeping things documented on paper.
“Yeah, but not yet.” She crosses out another line, deep in concentration.
“We’ll figure it out,” I encourage. “I know we will.” Except these are only words, and I’m not a better planner. If I could magically transform into a logistics mastermind right now, I would. For her, I would. This is falling on her shoulders, and I wish I could power-lift all the weight.
It hurts knowing I can’t.
Hailey nods repeatedly and forces a smile for me. Her confidence is fading. “We’ve got this. Don’t worry.”
We’re both extremely worried.
I nod and swivel on the barstool. Facing the living room, I see Trevor picking an HBO show, and he continues to tinker with his box.
Every time I ask him how long he’ll be here, he says, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”
I check my phone. No missed calls. No new texts. Last night, I received one message from most likely a burner phone.
401-555-2013: be back tomorrow. All good there?
I knew it was Rocky. When he was eighteen, I’d told him he needed to choose a better emoji as an identifier.
“What should I be, then?” he’d contested.
“You have tons of options. A wolf, a snake, a fox—a venomous scorpion. Doesn’t that sound more like you?” Everyone in our family could be considered a spider. I just figured he’d want to stand out.
He tapped his phone and sent me another spider. And then another one. And another. Until spiders flooded our text message thread. He stood up from my bed, and I still remember how he dipped his head to me. How little pieces of his hair brushed his lashes. How his gray eyes pulsed with fervor.
And very quietly, he said, “It’s the reign of spiders. This is exactly what I’m supposed to be.”
He never wanted to be different than the rest of us. He’s made it clear that he’ll always be loyal to our families, even if he’d like to carve out our parents and chuck them into another galaxy.
Last night, I texted him back: we’re fine here
I’m staring at my dumb strawberry emoji on my phone. Wondering if I can manifest a new text with my eyes.
Hailey peers up from her paper and studies me and my new phone obsession. “He’ll call.”
I click out of the texts. Tap into the recent phone calls. Back into the text threads. “Call,” I whisper to my cell.
From the couch, Trevor watches me with raised brows. “Hailey, come collect your friend, she’s losing it.”
I shoot Trevor a glare. “King of the Hypocrites.” I look to the box on his lap. “I thought your parents said no more money boxes?”
Trevor fabricated a box that prints counterfeit bills. It works ten times before being useless, but the marks he sells them to never know that.
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Trevor singsongs in-key, and he glances from his sister to me. “Isn’t that the golden motto in this town?”
I regret letting Trevor know about our “new start” here in Victoria because he cackled like we needed to be sent to a traveling circus. He thinks we’re clowns. Now he’s mocking us.
“The golden motto is don’t be an ass,” I snap.
Trevor blows out a breath in a mock wince. “Ooh, I think you might have already failed that one, PG-13.”
PG. Phoebe Graves.
“Clever,” I say dryly.
He rattles the money box. “What’s clever is this box, Wannabe NC-17.”
“Ooh,” I make the same sound he made. “You’re so edgy.”
“Edgier than you,” he refutes. “The edgiest thing you’ve done is pretend to be a stripper. And you weren’t even good at it.”
Hailey whips toward him. “Don’t be mean, Trevor.”
“You don’t need to stick up for her, Hails,” he says. “Phoebe doesn’t have a sensitive bone in her body.”
I set my phone down on the counter to flip him off with both hands.
“Point made,” Trevor says. He returns to his box, and I go to pick up my phone when it buzzes on the counter.
My heart almost jumps from my chest.
Hailey leans into my side and reads over my shoulder.
Rocky: You both free to grab dinner at the Lure? 5 p.m.?
He’s back on his regular phone, which means he’s already in town.
I quickly text back: Yeah, we’ll meet you there. How are you and Jake?
I’ve wanted this answer for a while. Especially since I’ve asked Jake about his chat with Rocky, but he just brushes me off.
Rocky: Peachy. Jake and I are BFFs
Hailey frowns. “That’s sarcasm, right?”
Confusion furrows my brows. “I’m not sure.”