Page 49 of Web of Lies

Kyle

The spoon clinks against the bowl as I scoop cereal into it and lift it to my mouth.

All the while, my attention is glued to the TV, which is playing a boring rerun of an old sitcom.

Noah and Riley left at five a.m., about four hours ago.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I haven't been able to catch another minute of rest. It's not that I don't trust Noah.

In fact, I truly believe he's the best person to take her hunting.

However, Riley didn't seem thrilled to go with him.

And I get it. She isn't the biggest fan of my brother, and some old habits or beliefs are hard to break.

Soft footsteps walking down the stairs draw my attention away from the TV.

Glancing up, I spot Evelyn walking into the kitchen.

It's a familiar sight: she's wearing flowy shorts and a top, with one of Noah's button-up shirts draped over her shoulders.

She pours herself a cup of coffee with creamer, steps around the counter, and joins me on the sofa.

"Good morning again. Did you manage to catch a bit more sleep?" she asks.

"Not a second. You?" My gaze meets hers.

"A little. I'm used to Noah leaving this early, but I must admit knowing Riley is with him feels strange."

"I agree. Do you think they'll be okay?"

"I can't think of a reason why they shouldn't," she says, bringing her cup to her lips.

"Riley didn't want to be alone with him."

"She'll be fine." She pulls her legs up onto the sofa, scooting back to get comfortable in the cushions. "I told Noah to be nice and patient."

"Nice and patient," I say with a scoff. "We both know those qualities are reserved for you."

"That includes being kind to others when I ask him to."

"We'll see." I won't believe it until I see it.

"Nice" and "patient" aren't exactly words people use to describe my brother, other than her.

He's got the patience of a grenade pin. But she can make him sit, stay, and roll over without him lashing out.

"One day, you need to tell me how the hell you turned him into your lapdog. "

"I think you can answer that question yourself," she says with a chuckle, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Oh, I do. I've actually witnessed it more times than I'd like."

She freezes, then looks at me with wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

A laugh escapes my throat as I shake my head. "Don't act innocent. You two don't know how to be quiet or subtle."

"Kyle." She chokes on her coffee.

"Relax." I shoot her a smirk, then look back at my bowl and scoop up the last of my cereal, pretending to be casual while my smirk widens. I then lift the bowl to my lips and drink the last of the milk before placing the empty dish on the table in front of me.

"You realize we have more than cereal you can eat for breakfast, don't you?" Evelyn scoffs.

"I know. But I'm stressed, and sugar eases the pressure.

" It's true; sugar has always been my shortcut, or rather, my quick fix.

Honestly, it sometimes works better than my medication.

The buzzing in my brain quiets down, and I can focus.

The difference is that the high fades too fast, leaving me shaky, foggy, and even more exhausted than before.

I know this habit isn't sustainable, but when I feel trapped, that sweet hit is the only thing that keeps me from losing it.

"I remember," she says, a lopsided smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "I've seen you eat an entire box of cereal in one day. Is there anything we can do to help you feel less stressed?"

After a brief silence, I reach for the remote and silence the sitcom. "What do you think about Riley's progress? I know you two have been watching, although you tried to be subtle about it."

Evelyn perks up and lowers her cup again, letting out a sigh. "She's getting there, but she's still very much at the beginning."

"What do you mean? She's been pushing herself hard." My eyebrows shoot up. She has made impressive progress in just a few days, and although she's not quite ready, she's been putting in a lot of effort.

"She's determined, no doubt," she says, her voice calm. "But when I look at her, I don't see that one crack, the one thing that pushes someone over the edge. I know she wants to be ready, but I'm not sure she's there yet."

"She'll get there. But if she hesitates, I'll end it before it turns ugly."

"I would very much appreciate that," she says, setting her cup on the table with a soft clink. "I understand why she wants to handle it herself. We've all been in her shoes. But wanting and being able to do something are different. I just can't help but worry."

"I know," I say, reaching out to place my hand on Evelyn's thigh and give it a gentle squeeze.

It's not like I'm not worried about the whole ordeal.

Riley has never killed anyone before. She's only ever witnessed death from a safe distance on security tapes and in reports.

The crimes she has committed up to this point are child's play compared to the one she is preparing to commit.

"I think we can agree that she will need support when this is over."

"I'll be there," I say. But Evelyn furrows her brows.

"I just hope you won't show her the same level of support that you show Noah."

"What?" My upper lip twitches.

Evelyn places her hand on top of mine. "Not everyone needs to be pushed to their limits like Noah does.

You two thrive on that. You rile each other up and tear each other down, and somehow it works.

But that's not the norm." I snort and pull my hand back, raking it through my hair.

"Kyle, you're emotionally intelligent, and you read people better than anyone I've ever met.

You notice the small shifts and silences.

But you hide behind your antics, and I know it's sometimes easier for you to crack a joke than to sit with someone else's pain.

" Her words cut deeper than I want them to.

And for once I don't have a smart remark ready.

She gives me a soft smile, but her eyes don't let me off the hook.

"Just be gentle, patient, and control your shenanigans.

She loves you, which means she'll put up with the stupid comments. Try to time them better."

I huff out a laugh, but it sounds flat even to me. "That's going to be difficult."

"You have it in you. I know that. And if you two need to get out of the city, you're welcome here."

"Thanks, at least one of the two of you is happy to have us here." At the comment, Evelyn sighs, though her lips twitch into a smile.

"Ignore Noah. He won't admit it, but he's nervous about the wedding. He wants to help. Otherwise, he wouldn't have taken her hunting." She shrugs lightly. "You could have easily taken her yourself. And don't lie to me."

"That’s true." I let out a throaty chuckle, leaning back into the sofa. "But I wanted her to face more of her fears, and one of them just so happens to be Noah."

Evelyn arches a brow; her expression is caught somewhere between amused and knowing. "So, you thought it was a good idea to throw her right into deep water?"

"Exactly. If she can't handle Noah breathing down her neck, how the hell is she going to kill someone?"

"You have a point there."

"Yeah, I'd rather see her struggle now than drown later.

"That makes sense." Evelyn nods. "And hey, maybe she'll like him after that." A soft chuckle vibrates in her chest.

"She likes me despite knowing the truth, so she'll warm up to him eventually."

"Yeah, I'm still mad you kept it from me as well," she sighs.

Before I can respond, the sound of a car engine draws our attention.

Shortly after, the door connecting the garage to the hallway opens, and Whiskey trots in, heading straight for his bed in the corner of the living room.

Close behind him follows Riley. Her eyes are droopy, and she looks a little lost as she walks into the kitchen.

I rise to my feet and meet her in a couple of long strides, placing my hand on the small of her back.

"How was it?" I ask.

"Good, I think." She looks at me with an exhausted half-smile.

"She actually did really well," Noah says as he walks past us toward the sink to wash his hands. Evelyn meets him with a big smile and plants a kiss on his cheek.

"But I didn't hit a deer," Riley says, prompting Noah to sigh as he turns and leans against the counter.

"You didn't. But you overcame your fear of shooting a living being. With some more practice, you'll be able to do it yourself."

"That sounds great, " I say, looking back at Riley, who leans into my touch and tilts her head back against my shoulder.

The lack of sleep and the chaos of the morning are catching up with her.

It's written all over her face: her eyelids flutter, and her posture is slouched and unsteady.

For a moment, all I can focus on is how breakable she looks right now.

"I need to get out of these clothes," she mutters, her voice quiet.

"I'll be with you in a minute." Riley nods, her shoulders slump in exhaustion.

"Take your time. I'm going to take a long shower," she says as she pulls away from me and heads toward the hallway.

Her steps are heavy as she drags herself upstairs.

My gaze remains locked on her until she disappears, and I listen to the faint creak of the stairs, followed by the soft thud of the door to our room falling shut.

With a sigh, I turn back to face Noah and Evelyn. She's already got her arms wrapped around his middle, looking up at him.

"What do you think?" I ask, meeting Noah’s gaze.

"She’s on the right track," he says after a pause. "If I hadn't pressured her, I believe she would've hit the deer. With a bit more practice, she’ll get there and will be able to handle whatever comes her way."

"She didn't need to be pushed the first time." My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth, a flicker of irritation lighting in my chest.

"You could’ve eased her into it." Evelyn chimes in, her brows knitting together.

"She won't have that luxury when it's real," Noah counters with a shrug as he wraps his arms around her. "Better she learns to handle the pressure now than when it's too late."

I can't argue with that because he's right, and both Evelyn and I know it. Sure, I hate that he pushed her, but Riley needs to be able to hold her ground in a situation that could be fatal if she hesitates even for a second.

We all fall silent, and the quiet lingers, weighed down by our unspoken understanding. Evelyn leans into Noah, and he kisses the top of her head. Meanwhile, my thoughts drift upstairs to the sound of running water and the woman fighting to prove herself.

She’ll get there.

She has to.

And until then, I have to make damn sure she’s ready.