Page 114 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

BEN COBALT

T om has his hands out like he’s grasping a ball of reason in the air. “Dude, I say this with all the love in my veins?—”

Eliot grins at me, but we’re listening as Tom finishes, “Ben should not be your roommate.” It’s the fifth time he’s shared these sentiments just this morning alone.

We all look like we rolled out of bed. Hair a little unkempt.

Drawstring pants on (the kind I slept in).

I’m not even wearing a shirt. We did just wake up about ten minutes ago.

The three of us went to the lobby to grab our mail.

Our bodyguards sifted through it already to trash any threatening letters or used panties (Charlie gets those all the time).

Normally they bring it up to us, but there was miscommunication on the security team, and it ended up at the front desk.

As the elevator brings us back upstairs, Eliot says, “I’m much better roommate material, Tom. You play music at all hours. You’ll disrupt his sleep.”

“ I will disrupt his sleep?” Tom touches his chest. “You fuck at all hours.”

I almost laugh, but I can’t tell if this is becoming heated between them in an aggravated way. They rarely, rarely fight, and I’m a little worried this might start one.

“An exaggeration,” Eliot says to me, then to Tom, “Not even I can fuck 24/7, brother. Physically impossible.”

“Eliot Alice, listen. Ben’s just going to get kicked out of his room every other night because of your hookups. He’s going to end up on the couch. Exactly where we don’t want him to be.”

I glide my fingers through my messy hair. “I don’t mind crashing on the pull-out. It’s really not a big deal?—”

“No,” they say in unison.

Eliot rests a hand on the elevator wall as he faces Tom.

No shirt, Eliot’s cut muscles flex to where I’d believe he was admiring himself in the mirror.

But the mirror is actually behind him. “I don’t need sex,” he says.

“The rate at which I bring girls over will drastically decrease when Ben rooms with me.”

I have a visual of Eliot passing out after Charlie and Beckett tried detaching a very incessant girl off him when he was far too drunk to consent. I honestly debated whether she slipped him something that night.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I tell Tom.

Eliot outstretches his arms, clutching a stack of envelopes in one hand. “Rooming with me is the better option.”

“I can also wear headphones,” Tom says, more to me than to Eliot. “You’ll barely hear my music.”

“That’s a good point,” I tell Eliot.

“ See ,” Tom says. “I’m the best option. You heard it straight from Ben.”

“Roll the tapes,” I smile over at him. “I’m pretty certain I said you’re both good options.”

Eliot raises his brows at Tom. “You aren’t a Virgin Mary. What happens when you bring over RJ?”

“My band is on life support. You think I have time to reignite that?”

“That’s exactly why you will, brother.”

Tom groans up at the elevator’s escape shaft.

“You seek him out when you are emotionally?—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Tom says quickly. “How about I delete his contact? Because I will.” He pulls out his phone.

“Whoa, whoa,” I cut in, holding out a hand to stop him. “Let’s not nuke your relationship because of me.”

“It’s not a relationship ,” Tom emphasizes. “It’s a casual— casual ,” he repeats to Eliot, “situation.”

Eliot is mouthing to me, relationship. I have a feeling the truth is somewhere in the middle, considering something with even an ember of emotion might be deemed as “serious” to Eliot.

As they go back-and-forth again, I glance between them and catch myself smiling.

I never thought Tom and Eliot would fight over me this hard.

Both even liked the idea of me rooming with one of them over them sharing.

To be honest, I think they want to keep an eye on me, to help me, and being further isolated isn’t the way.

Having one of them as a roommate isn’t forever, but it’s a “for now” I’m not ready to end that quickly. I’m at a time in my life with my brothers we won’t ever get back. We’re young, unfettered—able to be more selfish, follow our ambitions, fuck the night away, and let it all go.

I finally understand what Beckett meant about living in the city with them. It’s moments I will never recapture, and I want to exist inside each one instead of shoving them away. I can’t let my mind steal anymore from me.

Easier said than done, but I’m trying. I’m going to try with all that I have in my body and soul.

The elevator beeps. Doors slide open, and they continue this debate in the hallway. As things grow heated again, I cut in, “Instead of trying to figure out which one of you is better for me, why don’t you decide who’d rather deal with me? Because I might not be the world’s greatest roommate.”

“Hogwash,” Eliot denounces.

“Yeah, bah humbug, Ben Pirrip,” Tom also says. “You don’t snore. You’re not throwing dirty laundry everywhere. You’re quiet when you wake early. The worst thing about you is your girlfriend—it’s a joke. It’s a joke .”

I’m glaring.

Eliot walks backward in front of us and extends his arms. “I love your girlfriend. This settles it.”

“No, no .” Tom cinches his face. “I was joking. Okay, Harry and I have an actual back-and-forth. What do you have with her, Eliot?”

“We also have a back-and-forth, thank you for asking.” Eliot lifts his brows to me. “We’re friends. Best friends.”

I try not to laugh. “That makes a ton of sense, actually,” I banter. “Seeing as how she’s my best friend.”

“I’ve might’ve unseated you, brother.”

“Yeah, that’s not possible.”

Tom hears my territorial bite, and he’s grinning like he just won.

“I asked you two to choose,” I remind them. “Maybe just think about how my girlfriend will be spending the night. I can’t crash at the Honors House with the curfew. So Harriet will be sleeping in my bed with me sometimes, and if that makes either of you uncomfortable, then opt out now.”

Eliot laughs at the word uncomfortable , and Tom acts like it’s no problem. While we near our apartment door, my phone buzzes.

I hang back to check my text from Winona.

I’d reached out to her, finally. I’m unsure of how many messages my family tried to send while I was gone. None went through since I wiped my phone. It took a while for me to download all my storage from the Cloud, but I have the same number.

Winona said she’d texted. Called. I knew she must’ve been concerned.

We haven’t had a full-blown phone call yet.

I want to see her in person first, but since she’ll be at the lake house and I’m staying in Philly, I’m not sure if our paths will cross during the holidays.

We might have to make time, so I told her I was sorry for the epic cold wind, that it’d be better to explain face-to-face, and we should catch up soon.

Before we inevitably see each other for family events and trips.

Winona Meadows

Catching up sounds good. What are you thinking? Breakfast? Quarry swim? Ducati ride to the death?

I smile a little and send back.

Ben Cobalt

Too cold for quarry swim. No dying, please. Breakfast is perfect. Our fav vegan spot?

Winona Meadows

I’ll be there.

I inhale a deeper breath and think about messaging back one more time, but she beats me to it.

Winona Meadows

I missed you.

I send a me too just as Eliot asks, “You okay, brother?”

“Yeah,” I clear the knot in my throat. I don’t expect my friendship with Winona to ever be the same after what’s happened, but then again, with time and age, it was always going to change. I just want to stop the erosion, so new life can sprout.

Once we reach the apartment, Eliot unlocks the door, and the scent of eggs, turkey sausage, and maple syrup flood my nostrils as I go inside. Beckett babies sausage links in a frying pan while Charlie is on a barstool, a paperback folded in one hand while he drinks fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Eliot tosses the mail in a basket on an entryway table, then beelines for the stove to help Beckett.

Eliot is the only one who ever really cooked when we were kids.

I think, mostly, he liked conversing with our family’s chef, and likewise, Chef Michael enjoyed teaching Eliot knife skills and how to make a perfect soufflé and to poach eggs.

I hear Tom ask Beckett to weigh in on the roommate debate, but my gaze is drawn toward the living room. Toward this short blonde who crouches at an eight-foot Christmas tree. Her hair sticks up wildly like she also just rolled out of bed—because she did. With me.

Harriet is wearing my MVU sweatshirt over black sweatpants. The burgundy fabric engulfs her small frame and hangs past her thighs. Yeah, I love that she put on my clothes. I didn’t see her do that before I left for the lobby.

She’s busy using a non-contact voltage tester to find the defective light bulb in the strand. It’s been her mission ever since we put up the tree and it wouldn’t light.

Just as I’m about to move, the fir tree illuminates row by row and reaches the star at the top.

I smile and give her a loud two-finger whistle. “Way to go, Fisher.”

She rotates around to loud, hearty applause from me and my brothers, who grin with pride. Even Charlie sets down his book and puts his hands together.

Her fair cheeks go rosy, but she takes a stiff curtsey, plucking the sides of my sweatshirt like it’s a dress. I just want her in my arms. Her gaze soars up to the tree. “Why am I not surprised. You all chose blue. ”

The tree is lit with only blue lights.

“The gods’ color,” Eliot decrees dramatically.

Beckett laughs.