Page 95 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

BEN COBALT

“ T hey’re in dreadfully great hands, don’t worry,” Jane says with a reassuring smile in my direction. I’ve released the Kappa kittens, and they race toward plates of wet cat food Jane puts out. I refill water bowls strewn around the closed billiards bar.

The Independent is home to many strays that my older sister rescued, some of which eventually find forever families when people stop by for a beer and some pool, then wind up growing attached to the bar’s feline residents. It’s the perfect place to leave these six kittens.

“You are the vanquisher of worries,” I smile back at her. “A destroyer of doubts.”

“You flatter me.”

“With the truth,” I add, my lips rising as kittens nibble on a strand of yarn from a ball Jane tossed. She knows I took the cats to the vet weeks ago. They all have their shots. No fleas. They’ll be really happy here.

She hops up on the pool table and pats the green felt for me to join.

I take a seat beside her.

Thatcher is behind the bar counter, rocking their sleepy daughter in his muscular arms. As Jane peeks at him, he nods to her, then slips into a backroom.

Giving me and my sister time alone together.

There’s no one who respects the bonds of siblings more than Thatcher Moretti, who loves his twin brother to his absolute core, and I think it’s just another reason he’s so perfect for Jane.

But I recognize that Thatcher has lost one brother in his life.

I was one of the first people in our family he ever told about Skylar Moretti, his older brother who jumped into a quarry and drowned when they were just kids.

I hope…I really hope he will be there for Jane if she ever feels like she’s lost me.

I need him to be there for her. There really isn’t any doubt he wouldn’t be. Thatcher would walk through quicksand for the rest of his life if it meant Jane was okay.

“Tonight sounded terrible,” Jane says quietly, gently. “How are you doing?”

“I’m getting through it. I’m just glad it wasn’t any worse for Audrey. It could’ve been worse.”

She hugs me around my back. “Oh, Pippy. You have the biggest heart of us all, you realize?”

I stare at the floor, tears trying to well again. “Charlie knew it was always a weakness,” I tell her. “He knew eventually the more you feel, the more you hurt.”

Maybe he even knew one day I’d be swallowed whole by it. Maybe he never wanted to watch it happen.

“Your heart is your strength,” Jane says fiercely. “It also may be the very thing that brings you to your knees, but it can be the very thing that makes you stand. Don’t give up on yourself, Pippy.” She hugs me closer to her side with warmth I crave.

I rest my cheek on her shoulder like I’m twelve again. “We should add instiller of confidence in your Wiki bio.”

“It’d be redundant. It’s simply being your older sister.”

I suck a sharp breath through my nose, caging the waterworks. “Obligations of the firstborn.”

“No. For me, it isn’t work to love and care about my siblings. It never will be.” She tips her head into mine. “I know Moffy feels the same. If you ever need him, he’s one phone call away.”

The firstborns carry the largest burden in our families, and I admire how Jane and Maximoff still managed to be there for everyone, for themselves, and find soul mates of their own.

To me, they are the mightiest of gods. The ones we will forever look up to in the star-lit sky.

“I really love you, Jane,” I tell her before I leave The Independent.

Once I’m back at my brothers’ apartment, I call my Uncle Ryke to meet up. Not for coffee, not for lunch or dinner, but to be outdoors together. What I love doing with my uncle. I finally said yes to the hike.

He picks me up in his Land Rover, and I sleep in the passenger seat all the way to the Catskills.

By the afternoon, we’re on a trailhead called Hunter Mountain Fire Tower.

It’s the most challenging of five fire tower hikes.

8 miles. Difficulty: Hard, Sweating in the Cold, Toe Blisters Likely to Ensue. I wore the wrong socks.

He let me choose which trail. I decided if this is my last hike with my favorite uncle—I wasn’t going to let it be easy and end in a handful of minutes.

We talk in Spanish some. Just so I don’t lose the language. It’s partly why my family speaks so often in French. None of us want to forget what we were taught.

“Ya casi llegamos,” he says. We’re almost there.

My boots crunch fallen autumn leaves. “No tengo prisa.” I’m not in a hurry.

Uncle Ryke is textbook definition brooding with constant furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. His unshaven, hard jaw isn’t doing any favors to lighten the unapproachable demeanor, and despite his “fuck off” aura, I know he’d do anything for me as if I were his own son.

Ryke Meadows is the embodiment of the mountains I love. Resilient, immovable, unchanging. He’s nothing like my father.

Connor Cobalt is the embodiment of the water. Even the calmest rivers can drown with the change in currents. When I was younger, I wondered if my dad felt like he was drowning me—so he made sure I had Ryke. He made sure I had the mountain to lift me out of the swelling tides.

And I fucking love him for it.

That he knew what I needed, and maybe it wasn’t always him, but he never took it away from me. He drew me toward it. He still does.

All those times I spent morning to night at the Meadows Cottage—playing on their makeshift ropes course in the backyard, spinning on the tire swing with Winona, running barefoot through the woods—my parents rarely called me home.

They let me stay until I looked down the street and felt a longing tugging me, pulling me, to be with my sisters, my brothers, them.

And I went back on my own accord. Their happiness to see me never withered. It grew and wrapped around me every time I walked through the door.

I had more homes to go to than Harriet. I had an excess of love, and it feels incredibly fucking stupid to willingly walk away.

But I can’t be here. I can’t stay and destroy them. It’s a nagging, suffocating panic I can’t shake. I will never be rid of this monster looming over me until I’m miles away. Until I’m certain they’re all safe.

We reach the base of the fire tower, and I take off my baseball cap, wiping the line of sweat off my forehead. Uncle Ryke jerks his head toward the winding staircase. He leads us up the steps.

This isn’t a popular trail during this month. In fact, I think he had to pull strings last-minute to obtain a permit for us to hike it in late November.

No one is here.

As we climb, he peers back at me a few times. Questions are in his knitted brows, but Uncle Ryke hasn’t asked any tough ones yet. He’s not badgering me, but I know the time will come.

At the top, we step into the square structure. All open windows. No glass panes. It’s an empty fire tower and not large. Just a lookout point, really.

I should be staring out at the rolling peaks, the horizon, the cascade of evergreens. Even if it’s a little overcast, the expansive views stretch out to three states. But I don’t care about the trees. There’ll be spruces and dirt and the clouds and blue sky where I’m headed.

There won’t be him. I care about the guy beside me that I’ll never see again.

“Thank you,” I say before he can speak. “For bringing me here.”

“You chose it.” He’s gazing out. “I like this one. Mostly because you’re fucking here though.”

I smile. “I was going to say that about you. Beat me to it.” I suck some water from the spigot of my hydration bladder on my back.

Uncle Ryke rotates toward me now. “How are you holding up?” Of course he’s referring to the frat. My sister. It's probably only been around fourteen or fifteen hours since then.

“I’ve been better,” I admit. “Sorry I haven’t been around?—”

“You don’t need to fucking apologize.” He throws out fucks like they’re flower petals, not always with aggression. Though, yeah, he can be intense.

“I do, actually.” I fit my baseball cap back on, curving the brim. “I haven’t been a good friend to Winona, and if I had?—”

“I’m going to stop you for a fucking second.

” He raises his hands like he’s cradling something fragile between us.

“Your relationship with my daughter will never, ever fucking impact my relationship with you—do you get that? I need you to understand that, all right? Because I am always right down the street. Always there, Ben. There will never be a fucking moment where I’m not, and if you need to walk through that door, walk through the door. Don’t turn around.”

My eyes burn because my relationship with him was impacted. But it wasn’t his own doing—it was mine.

“I’ve known the door was always open,” I say in a soft breath. “I knew you’d never shut it on me. It’s just how you are, Uncle Ryke.” I smile tearfully at him and inhale a colder stream of air to tamp down the sorrow. “I’d come over more, but I’m actually considering a change of pace.”

“Yeah?” He scrapes a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Like?”

“I might quit college. Go see more of the country.” I tip my head toward the landscape, but I keep my eyes on him. “I think maybe it’s just what I need. To get out and just breathe in the quiet. Live somewhere else with less noise.”

He rubs at his forehead, his mouth, his jaw again. “Alone?”

“You’ve done so many backpacking trips alone. You’ve rock climbed alone.”

“And the ones I’d never give back, the mountains I would kill to climb again, were the ones where I was never alone.” He extends an arm. “Look, I’m not the fucking one to talk about caution. Your dad, I’m sure, will go over rash decisions after you just went through something emotional?—”

“It’s not about Audrey or the frat,” I cut in. “I’ve been thinking about this for months. It’s always been on the table.” It’s the truth. “I just think now’s a great time.”

“Because why?”

I dig my gloved hands into my jacket pockets. “Because.” My throat tries to close. “I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to leave Harriet if I stay any longer.”