Page 46 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

“It was a flick of a switch,” I tell him.

“As soon as I had boobs and men started to notice me—she despised me. I didn’t want their attention.

It was fucking gross to have her old nasty boyfriends stare at me.

I just had to pretend not to notice. She’d end up cutting things off with them, then turning it around on me, telling me I was the problem.

I was wearing slutty outfits to turn them on.

I was flirting with them, which was all news to me. ”

My esophagus is dry and raw, and my voice sounds scratchier as I keep going.

“I could deny it every day. I wanted nothing to do with those dudes, but in her head, I was the source of all conflict. Then she met Wilson, and he was less of a dickhead and more of a moron. But a sweet moron. Someone who brought her roses on Valentine’s and saved their anniversary on his calendar.

I tried my best to stay in my room. To avoid.

To be invisible. But with Hope, it was impossible.

Wilson was just being nice when he bought me a new pair of drumsticks for my sixteenth birthday.

She threw them in the garbage, spit-screamed in my face and told me to pack my bags and get out. ”

I stare off at the quilt. It’s been almost three years, and I can still hear Hope’s voice ravaging my brain.

“I have had enough of you,” she seethed. “You ruin everything . You don’t know how not to. Get out of here. Go, Harriet. Call your dad and let him deal with you.”

I did call my dad. I hear his voice too.

“Harriet? I can’t talk. I just got paged for an emergency thoracotomy.”

“She kicked me out,” I told him.

There was a pause before he said, “Call your Aunt Helena. I’m sure she’ll let you stay with her. I have to go.” He hung up.

I never asked my Aunt Helena if I could live with her. She’d never leave her little rental in San Francisco, and I wanted to finish school in Pittsburgh. So I just made it work with my Honda and my resolve.

Ben lifts my chin, and my eyes reach his again. His compassion burrows into my body and warms me just like he promised he’d do. “Hypothermia really is impossible with you,” I mutter.

He’s not smiling. “I really hate your parents. What your mom did to you—it makes me viscerally angry. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Don’t hate my dad,” I whisper. “He didn’t know I lived out of my car. He assumed I went to stay with my Aunt Helena.”

Our legs have tangled, we’re so close now. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The movement so simple yet pulses my heart in unsteady beats. His voice goes hushed too. “Why didn’t you just ask if you could stay with him?”

“Because I was scared of the answer. There’s a chance he could have said no .

He made a whole new life for himself after he divorced my mom.

One that didn’t include me. His new wife, his son and daughter—they’re everything to him.

I always just got the occasional call on my birthday, but that ended when I turned eleven.

And for all I know, he could’ve hated me because I have fifty percent of my mom’s DNA.

” I raise my chin, looking directly at Ben.

“But I have a plan. I’m going to become a trauma surgeon just like him—and then he’ll realize that I’m more Grant Fisher than Hope Danes.

Maybe he’ll even let me shadow him and invite me on vacations with my half-siblings. ”

I don’t say the unspoken words.

Maybe I’ll be a part of a family .

I swallow the biggest lump, and Ben’s thumb moves in soft circles against my knuckles. Until he’s holding my hand. Lacing our fingers.

“That’s why you want to be a doctor,” he realizes.

“It was the first initial reason. Then I fell in love with medicine, so I have more reasons now.” I unlace our hands, just to pull off my beaded bracelets. “What about you and hockey?”

“Me and hockey?” He’s watching me slip the bracelets onto his wrist.

“Yeah. If it’s taken this long to even try out, then…do you even like playing?”

Ben scratches the back of his head, then slumps a little against the pillow mound. I follow suit. Our heads turn to each other as he says, “I think I hate it.”

My brows catapult, not expecting that. “Hate is a strong word, Friend.”

He reaches over, grabs his blue water bottle, takes a hearty swig, then offers it to me. I take small sips, listening.

“The aggressive part of hockey, I never disliked. There’ve been times where I think I need it.

Until the last three years…I guess I just started hating the brutality,” he breathes out.

“I’d try to skate around the body slams, but I was a target during every game I played.

And if I didn’t want to keep getting concussions, then I needed to defend myself.

” He rubs at the little beauty mark on his cheek.

“I’ve knocked out teeth on four different guys, Harriet.

I’ve laid even more out on the ice. I hate causing physical harm to people, and I know it seems ridiculous after what I did to Tate…

but there’s enough suffering in the world, I just don’t want to contribute to it.

” His eyes redden as he stares at the bracelets.

“It fucking tears me up every time I do.”

“Then why even try out?”

“I love the feeling of being on the ice. Of flying toward the net. Like nothing can catch me. I imagine maybe it’s what birds feel like in the air.

” He scrapes his tongue over his molars in thought.

“And I love helping my team win. I love feeling like I excel at something like Cobalts are known to do. But the past few years, the hate has drowned the love. Now I think I’m just trying out for Coach Haddock.

He’s a good guy, and I don’t want to let him down too hard. ”

Ben has a really big heart. I can see why his brothers might fear someone hurting him. I feel more protective of his heart too. Especially since it feels like he keeps giving it to me.

“I’m glad you’re trying out,” I tell him. “You’ll get that last time to feel like a bird. Be all Nelly Furtado on the ice.”

He laughs hard. His face is one beautiful smile. “You aren’t worried I might fly away?”

It hurts a little, even knowing he’s teasing. “Oh no, I am very worried.” I try to joke back. It comes off more serious than I intended.

“Don’t be,” he says softly. “Everything’s going to turn out okay, Friend.”

“What if you get third-degree sunburn? Or a splinter that causes a bacterial infection? You could accidentally chop off your hand?—”

“That’s not going to happen,” he laughs.

“Have you ever swung an axe before?”

“Yeah.”

“And chopped wood?”

“ Yes ,” he says like it’s not hard and common practice. Now I’m picturing outdoorsy Ben. Which has to be one of his natural states of mind, considering he loves the earth. Being stuck in the city isn’t where he’s meant to be.

All birds need to be set free, I realize, and maybe convincing him to stay would be like trapping a wild creature.

I tuck myself more to his side. Trying to be okay with his plan.

He cups the side of my head and scrunches my hair a few times. It’s so effortlessly comforting. I’m drawn to him. To his energy and affection, and there’s a sudden urge to want more. To be consumed by Ben Cobalt.

I look up at him.

He looks down. The electrical charge between us pumps my blood. It’s paddles to my heart. On impulse, I slide my leg over his waist and roll onto his lap.

My palms meet the back of his warm neck, and his large hands fall to the soft divots of my hips.

Ben drinks in my bare thighs around him, and I run my fingers over the ridges of his abs. I can feel his dick hardening against me as his gaze fixes back on mine.

“Harriet,” he breathes out a knotted breath of arousal. “We can’t do this.”

“Because we’re friends? Or because we’re in the living room?”

“Neither.” He rolls me off him so easily—as if I weigh nothing. My head sinks into the soft pillow. He sits up and watches me scowl at him. He smiles when he says, “Glare at me all you want, but it’s not happening.”

“Give me a good reason because you already rejected two.”

“You’re my guest,” he says, grabbing a pillow to put over his semi-hard cock—because it’s distracting me. He’s fucking huge. “I don’t want sex in return for you spending the night here.”

Oh…

My face is on fire. “That’s not why I crawled on top of you.”

“It might not be your intent, but you obviously have a history with sex being transactional. Am I wrong?”

No, he’s not. Our body counts might be considered high for our ages, but my number rose to twelve because I did get more than sex out of it. Most of my one-night stands came with a place to lie down for the night. A bathroom to freshen up in the morning.

“This…” I choke up a little. “This isn’t like all those other times though.” He’s searching my eyes as vigorously as I search his.

I’m not all mettle and guts because I struggle to say what’s in my head.

This isn’t the same, Ben.

I have feelings for you.

I like you.

Half my heart might be in your hands too.

Instead, I breathe out, “I don’t want this to be transactional. I just haven’t had an orgasm in months. Not since I moved in with Eden. And I just thought, maybe we could…”

“We can’t,” he reaffirms. “But I can.”

My lips part in shock. “ You can…what?” I’m imagining too many scandalous things, and I comb his gaze again for answers.

He roots a palm on the mattress beside my arm, leaning more over me. His voice comes out in a soft, husky whisper. “I can give you an orgasm, Friend.”

Holy fucking shit. Did I manifest this? I’ve never believed in the whole “ask and you shall receive” mantra, but I might be a new convert. Aunt Helena will be thrilled.

“That sounds nice,” I rasp because I’m not sure what else to say other than yes, please . But I’m not ordering an orgasm off a menu here. This is Ben fucking Cobalt. This is my best friend. The closest person I’ve ever been to.