[BOOK2]
Friendship built their world. Love will break it open. ❤️
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lo...
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I didn't breathe until I heard his voice again.
Theo's voice, low and worn, cracked through the phone like static and salvation all at once. "You get all that?"
Becca's reply came sharp and steady. "Every word."
Beside me, Lewis sat frozen on the floor, half a sandwich hanging limply from his hand like his brain hadn't caught up to what just happened. Becca's phone sat on the coffee table between us, still on speaker, still recording, still humming with the aftermath.
And me? I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. My fingers were gripping the cushion like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Because Peyton actually confessed.
No half-truths. No denial. No convenient excuses. She said it. Out loud. Her voice syrupy and smug and clear as day.
My pulse hammered as I turned to Becca. "Please tell me that recorded properly."
Her eyes didn't leave the screen. She pressed play again, and Peyton's voice poured through the room like poison.
"Jake's the one who got the stuff. I just... helped."
The words hit like a gut punch. My stomach flipped, bile rising in my throat.
"She said it," I whispered.
Lewis let out a breathless laugh, half disbelieving. "She really fucking said it."
Becca finally tore her eyes from the screen, glancing at her watch. "It's one o'clock," she said quietly. "Theo, go. Get back to yours, change, and get ready for the appeal. It's at three, right?"
Theo's voice came through the speaker again, strained. "Yeah. Three."
Becca's tone shifted—commanding, no-nonsense. "Then we don't have long. We'll handle the rest if we have to."
Theo started to argue, his voice tight. "Becca—"
Lewis cut in, firm. "Trust us, man. Go get ready. We've got this."
There was a pause. Then Theo's voice, softer. "Be careful."
"Always," Becca said, and ended the call.
The silence that followed was heavy—thick enough to choke on. I stared at the phone, heart thundering in my chest. It didn't feel real yet.
She confessed. We had her.
I looked up, my voice barely above a whisper. "She confessed, Becca. What more do we need?"
Becca's expression was sharp, her eyes cutting like glass. "The other half of the snake."
Jake.
His name hung in the air, bitter and electric.
If Peyton was going to him—and she would, she always went running back to him—we had one shot left.
