Page 83 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

Ben rests his ass on the back of the couch, so he’s closer to Tom’s six-foot-one height. “If this is how Warner reacts, I don’t think you should work things out with him. Maybe it’s better to cut ties.”

“I don’t want him back, dude.” Tom points at his eye. “And not because of this. We can’t agree on anything anymore. Not the tempo, not a song title, not the color of a fucking EP cover.”

I return with a squishy icepack. I’m guessing Beckett being an athlete is why there were a multitude of different kinds in the freezer. I offer it to Tom.

He grabs it slowly like he’s expecting a catch to my kindness. “Thanks?”

“Any reason to flex my pre-med skills, Thomas.”

He wheezes out a laugh. “Right now I feel like I’m dying. What are you going to do about that?” I open my mouth to respond, but he’s quick to say, “Forget it.” He presses the ice to his eye, nods goodbye to Ben and retreats to his bedroom.

I let out a long breath. “I’m not happy his band broke up. It actually sucks knowing The Carraways may never put out new music.” I crinkle my nose at myself. “And I’m the real asshole for not telling him that.”

“Tom is in his own feelings,” Ben says. “I think the only thing that’ll really make him feel better are solutions to the problem. So this doesn’t feel like he just lost everything.”

“Is there a solution?” I ask.

“I have no fucking idea,” Ben says with a heavy sigh, his empathy on the hallway where Tom disappeared.

“You should check on him again. I’ll pull out the bed.”

He nods. So that’s how we split apart for several minutes. By the time Ben returns, I’ve slipped under the covers, dimmed the lights, and scrolled through Netflix on his laptop. He brings over a couple glasses of water and cozies up beside me.

A tin of cookies balances on the armrest of the couch.

Eliot brought them back from Wednesday Night Dinner and told me they were baked with mischief and love from his little sister.

Apparently, Audrey has a thing for giving sweets to people, and I’ve been devouring the little drum-shaped sugar cookies. She slipped a note in the tin too.

It feels good knowing Ben’s little sister, who he cares for greatly, thinks I’m important enough for cookies and a meet-up. I snuggle next to Ben with the laptop, and we’re about five minutes into Okja when a door shuts from the hall.

I perk up and glance behind the couch with Ben.

Tom has a pillow tucked under his arm. “Please tell me we’re not watching monkeys digging in the dirt.”

I give Ben a confused look. “Did you invite him?”

Ben shakes his head with a rising smile and a laugh. “This is Tom.”

Tom hikes a leg over the back of the couch and slides onto the pull-out. Not just anywhere—he chooses in between me and Ben. I’m not kidding.

I scoot over so my arm isn’t butted up against his. “Do you understand personal space?”

“Yeah, can you give me some? It’s a little cramped.” He wiggles his arms, shoving me and Ben farther apart and fluffing his pillow behind his back.

I would be more irritated if Ben wasn’t trying to stifle full-body laughter. Just hearing the sound is like a serotonin boost.

“He’s not sleeping with us,” I tell Ben.

Tom makes a face at me like I’m the weird one. “Like I want to sleep in the same bed as my sleep paralysis demon.”

“I hope I give you nightmares.”

“Ben, tell your girlfriend to be nice to me. I’m emotionally fragile right now.

” He doesn’t appear it as much as he did, so I wonder if Ben’s pep talk helped.

“Look, if I’m left alone, I’m going to text RJ to come over here, and the last thing I need is an emotion-fueled hookup.

In fact, take my phone. Take it.” He plops his cell on Ben’s lap.

Then he pries the laptop out of my hands, holding it since he’s in the middle. “ Okja ? Never heard of it.”

“It’s one of Ben’s favorite movies.”

Tom frowns at him in hurt. “And you never shared this with me?”

“You won’t like it,” Ben says with certainty.

I’ve never seen Okja before, but the science-fiction fantasy premise of a little girl going to great lengths to save her animal sounded interesting. It also has glowing reviews.

“Let’s see it first without passing judgment, Ben Pirrip.” He rewinds and presses play.

This is how I find myself wedged beside Tom Carraway Cobalt on a pull-out couch watching Netflix on a random Thursday night. Oh and he’s icing his soon-to-be black eye.

Ben smiles over at me a few times. That’s the best part.

We’re an hour into the film, and Tom has a stink-face.

“You can hate it, Tom,” Ben says with a smile. “It won’t offend me.”

“There’s still more left to go.” He’s squinting at the screen midway through. Then his silent rumbling laughter shakes the laptop.

“Dude,” I say flatly.

“It’s a big hippo,” he defends. “How is this not supposed to be a comedy?”

I’m so invested in the plight of this little girl and her CGI animal that I’ve been restraining tears for the past ten minutes. “It’s a super pig,” I correct. “And it’s not supposed to be funny .”

“But if you watch it thinking it’s a floppy-eared ugly hippo…?” He holds out a hand of reason.

“It’s a cute animal.”

“It’s pretty fucking ugly, and I don’t know if Ben’s going to like knowing you’d only save the cute animals.”

I fling my pillow at his face.

“Ow, watch the eye, Harry.”

I almost feel bad, but not quite. When I glance over at Ben, I’m about to apologize for reinjuring his injured brother, but his expression on me steals my breath. He’s looking at me like he could kiss me, hold me, hug me, lie with me in a field of grass and watch the rolling clouds forever.

Maybe this movie night with Tom isn’t so terrible. I also have a great window into the dynamic between all of Ben’s brothers than ever before. Like when Beckett arrives, and even in the darkness of the living room, he beelines for Tom. As if he’s already heard the news.

“How bad?” Beckett asks behind the couch.

Tom tilts up his face toward him, so Beckett can inspect the puffy eyelid. “With a microphone.”

“Keep ice on it.” Beckett presses a hand to Tom’s shoulder, then nods to me and Ben. “You two need anything? I’m in for the night.”

We shake our heads. “Thanks, Beck,” Ben says.

“Have you seen this hippo movie?” Tom asks Beckett, angling the laptop.

“ Okja ? Yeah, it’s really good. It’s one of Ben’s favorites.”

Ben smiles at Tom. “I knew he’d like it.”

“I like parts of it,” Tom defends. “The sci-fi elements are just taking me out. There’s still time for improvement.” The door opens again.

As Charlie enters, he kicks off his loafers and immediately asks Tom, “Have you told Eliot?”

Tom sinks down, his arm sliding against mine. “I’m not interrupting his date with that Gertrude girl. The minute he finds out, he’ll rush over here.”

“You need to tell him,” Beckett says smoothly. “He’ll bring her here just to kick her out when he sees you’re hurt and hears about the band.”

Charlie peels his shirt off his head. “No one wants to spend the night trying to get rid of his grating, clingy date.” He’s unbuttoning his pants. Is anyone seeing this? Is this normal? Charlie just walks down the hallway, mid-stripping to likely take a shower.

Beckett never switches to French in front of me. He lets me hear everything, and I think it’s this exact moment when I realize I might be in the inner circle of the Cobalt Empire.

B en and I wake as the morning sun streams across the couch, and then his therapist calls. While he slips into Eliot and Tom’s bathroom to do a short session, I head to the smaller half-bath and run into a problem I wished to never meet at the Cobalt brothers’ apartment.

“Really? Really ?” I mutter to myself, spinning the empty toilet paper roll in the powder bath. Thankfully, I haven’t peed yet and can easily check the cupboard under the sink…and…no TP. Ben. Ben is obviously not the solution here, even if my brain is trying to will it to be.

I’m not disturbing his therapy session for toilet paper. But the pressure in my bladder demands relief, and holding it for thirty minutes isn’t an option.

I go through the alternatives. Barge into Charlie and Beckett’s bathroom without asking. No way. Clogging the powder bath’s toilet with paper towels. Hell no . I’d rather pee myself than be found standing in a lake of toilet water with a plunger in hand.

Looks like I’ll be waking one of them up to do the adult thing and just ask for some TP. I wince, picturing this face-to-face interaction. I would be more comfortable looking them in the eyes and asking for a condom—and I don’t even want to know what that says about me.

I could avoid eye contact by sending a message, but Beckett doesn’t even text .

And I’m not going to text Charlie. In fact, I don’t even want to ask Charlie at all because he might not help me.

I’ll gladly choose the more intimidating brother if it means a guaranteed successful outcome.

So this all leads me on a trek down their hallway to find Beckett.

Brand new territory, yippee.

If only this expedition had a map because I can’t tell which door leads to Beckett’s room or Charlie’s, and before I play What’s Behind Door Number One? my ears catch mutterings through the wood.

“…I know, but he’s only hanging around when she’s here, Charlie. He will actively avoid the apartment otherwise.”

Charlie doesn’t want me here? Beckett is trying to convince him to let me stay? These theories sprout from earth that Ben would consider polluted and erosive. There isn’t much that says Charlie dislikes my presence, so why do I instantly think I'm a problem?

All I picture is my mom.

“He trusts her? He loves her? He would do anything for her?” Charlie throws out like potential possibilities. “If he has told anyone anything, it’s been to her.”

“We need to ask Harriet,” Beckett whispers, so I take a teeny step closer, pressing my ear to the door. “…he’s been more himself when he’s with her. I don’t like the look on his face when he’s alone with us, Charlie. I’m telling you, something still isn’t right.”

They fall too hushed.

Then the door whips open. I jerk back the same time Charlie stares me down, then he swings the door wider to show Beckett. As though he knows I find him far more intimidating.

“Look, a recreational eavesdropper,” Charlie says like he’s tarnishing my resume.

“ One-time eavesdropper,” I correct. “I just came to ask for some toilet paper.”

“Come in here.” Beckett gestures me forward. He even peeks in the hallway behind me, as if ensuring none of his other brothers are lurking. Then Charlie catches my wrist and pulls me into the room, breaking my threaded arms apart.

What…is happening?

I stumble inside as Beckett shuts the door very softly.

I survey my surroundings. Okay, this has to be Beckett’s bedroom.

Soothing blue tones. No clutter. Very minimalist with a desk, king-sized bed, navy-blue comforter and matching navy curtains.

Both ironed to wrinkle-free perfection. The permeating cedary sage scent smells like him too.

I touch nothing. “I really have to use the bathroom,” I remind them, just so this secret rendezvous doesn’t take forever. I would rather plug the toilet than pee on Beckett’s floor. I’m standing in a potential Worst-Case Scenario right now.

“We’ll be quick,” Beckett assures, only wearing cotton pants like Charlie. I’m guessing they just woke up too.

“Has Ben told you why he’s broke yet?” Charlie questions.

“No, not really.” He’s alluded to using the money for his move, but I can’t mention this. I peer at the door. “I know we all want the same things…but I don’t like conspiring behind his back. It doesn’t feel good.”

Charlie cocks his head. “Pardon me for not caring about your feelings when my brother lost a tiny fortune either under duress or by choice.”

“He said he’s not being blackmailed,” I retort.

“I already told you that.” I have yet to share Ben’s move to the wilderness.

It’s too big of a betrayal. I’m almost positive he will cut me out of his life.

Never speak to me again. It’s a secret he wants kept so badly, his heart races when he even mentions portions of it.

“She can’t rat him out,” Beckett reminds Charlie. “If he can’t trust her anymore, he’ll push us all away, and that’s not what we want.”

Charlie rolls his eyes, tugging at his hair.

“We will lose him, Charlie, if he loses her.”

“We don’t know that for certain.”

“I’m not willing to risk it,” Beckett says smoothly, then nods to me. “Don’t tell us more than you can, but please, if you ever get the feeling—even if it’s so small—that he might be in trouble, come to us.”

“I will,” I nod.

Ben is moving to a remote location. It’s not like he’s decided to jump off a cliff and drown. I’m sure once he’s there, he’ll write to his family and let them know his address. Then maybe he’ll find a satellite phone and be able to call with updates. Or even a café with Wi-Fi.

Anyway, there is such a great chance Ben won’t even move anymore. He’s delaying his plans for longer and longer, and what if he just scraps them altogether?

“Toilet paper?” Beckett asks.

I nod, about to follow him out.

Then Charlie says, “Offering any more blow jobs these days?”