Page 98 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

HARRIET FISHER

H e’s gone. I’m stuck in a motionless state when Ben exits my apartment. Our interaction cycles through my head at a painful, incoherent speed. I’ve known Ben planned to move for months , but it’s never triggered this type of alarm in me.

The last several weeks, he’s only mentioned staying.

Then his sister was in harm’s way at the frat, and everything changed too abruptly.

He feels responsible enough that he’s leaving?

How will that help? It’s not rational. I think back to how many times his pulse sped when he mentioned this move. Panic. Pure panic.

Anxiety? Fear?

I want to be a fucking doctor—how did I not see something could’ve been wrong on a psychological level? That it’s possibly even deeper than anyone knows…

What if Ben never wants to be found?

What if that’s the point of everything?

Nausea barrels up my esophagus, and I race into the bathroom.

Kneeling just in time to vomit in the toilet.

I shake and dizzy as I puke my guts up. Sweat beads my skin.

There’s no fucking time for this, Harriet.

I grip the bowl, unable to stop that quickly.

I swallow some down, then crawl into a stance. Picking myself up, I run for my phone.

I snatch it off the couch and call Beckett. “Please answer, please answer.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Stomach acid sears my throat.

It beeps into his voicemail greeting. “If you called the right number, you know who this is. I’m likely unavailable. Just ring me again in an hour or I’ll get back to you when I can.”

At the second beep, I say fast, “Ben is gone. We need to find him before he leaves the city. You need to stop him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop him.”

Did I not try hard enough? I should’ve tried so much harder. What could I’ve done better? I finish leaving a voicemail message and try not to contemplate my failings—instead, I send a group text to his brothers.

Harriet

BEN IS GONE!!!! WE NEED TO FIND HIM!!!

There aren’t enough shouty caps and exclamations in the world to express my distress right now. Moving hurriedly, I unfurl the paper bag on the couch, sifting aside the extra bags of chips to grab the slim blue box.

An unopened pregnancy test. My heart pangs in the worst way possible. Since my birth control prevents my period, it’s not easy to deduce whether I could be pregnant. My breasts have felt more tender recently, and I freaked myself out enough to purchase a test.

Ever since his mom said Cobalt sperm is powerful enough to defeat birth control, my paranoia has run rampant, and I wanted to put it to bed. Now, this is just coming at a horrible fucking time.

I didn’t want Ben to discover the test in the bag. I wasn’t going to mention it because this test was supposed to quell my anxieties. Not baby trap him. It felt like a gross way to manipulate him to stay. Now I’m wondering if I should’ve, for his sake.

I collect mouthwash from the bathroom to use on my walk to the subway. I check my phone.

No texts?

Most of his brothers are likely on stage, not near a phone, but what about Charlie? Once I gather my things into my backpack, I slow down as the stuffed animal and Ben’s blue baseball cap catch my eye on the kitchen counter.

I take the ballcap. And a letter slides out beneath it. Fluttering to the floorboards. I pick it up to see my name written in yellow crayon.

Tears almost burst forth.

He left me a letter. Because maybe he knew…I would’ve liked a note. A note would’ve been nice. “Come back,” I nearly cry. Scrubbing the silent tears away with my hand, I slip the letter and stuffed animal into my bookbag, then I fit his hat on my head, tightening the strap.

We’re going to find him.

We have to find him.

Life isn’t the same without him.

It’s all I think on the way to the Cobalt brothers’ apartment.

N o one is here yet. I’m sitting in the hall outside 2166.

My bookbag between my legs while I knock the back of my head against the door.

Security let me pass through the lobby after I signed my name on the guest sheet, but they didn’t pat me down.

Didn’t ask me questions. I’m too frequent a guest for them to bat an eye.

Five minutes of his brothers not responding was too long, so I pulled the trigger and alerted his mom. I basically spent the entire subway ride texting her and trying not to cry when she called me. She asked a lot of questions I don’t have answers to, but I wish I knew.

I wish I knew where he went.

I wish I prodded harder, even if it hurt.

If we never find him, I’m going to always wish.

Now I’m just waiting for his brothers to show up. They’re on their way to the apartment.

Tom had been the first to answer me, and he rerouted to the ballet to physically get Beckett. I think both Beckett and Eliot left mid-performance. Charlie has been totally uncommunicative.

While time drags excruciatingly slow, I unearth the letter from my backpack. My heart beats so loud as I carefully open the envelope.

I unfold the plain white paper, and a pressed flower slips out, falling to my lap. I pinch the delicate, dried stem. The cream petals too fragile to touch. I’m careful not to destroy them.

I sniff back emotion, blow out a shaky breath, then eye the letter. He wrote in black ink, his handwriting nothing fancy, but seeing a remnant of Ben is everything to me.

I read slowly.

Dear Friend,

There is no possible way I’ll be able to tell you everything I want to when I say goodbye. It’ll be a miracle if I even manage to say goodbye at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if I never do. Because my heart is yours forever, Harriet. I’m not taking it back. I left it with you.

I also left you a flower. One of the oldest on earth.

Something so delicate and beautiful withstood glaciers, extinctions, the ever-changing landscape of our planet, the rise and fall of civilizations…

through eras and hardship, it survived. It’s a testament to the strength and perseverance of life on our Earth. And it’s always reminded me of you.

The magnolia.

You will endure, Fisher. You will heal others with music or with medicine, with emotion or with mind. You will love and be loved, and if you ever miss me, like I will always miss you, just find the brightest burning star across the sky.

à toi pour l'éternité,

Ben

I don’t want to love anyone more than I love him.

I only want Ben. “I only want you,” I cry as a broken sob rips through my body.

I try to protect the letter from my sudden onslaught of tears.

Burying my face into the golden fur of his stuffed animal, I hug the lion against my shuddering frame.

He still smells like Ben. Like his musk. Like pine.

I’m not angry he left. I can’t be angry. I am pulverized knowing that maybe I didn’t do enough to help him while he was here.

You’ve made me so unbelievably happy. I hang on to what he said. I believe it’s true. And I wish I could’ve told him, “Take me with you.”

“Harriet?”

I peer up and blink away the glassy haze of tears.

Joana Oliveira, the neighbor down the hall, rushes toward me in concern. Curls cascade down her shoulders. She has on a mocha crop top and matching pants. Fuzzy enough to be PJs. She even wears slippers. I don’t know why I’m fixating on her wardrobe.

Maybe to dam the waterworks. It sort of helps.

“What happened?” She reaches the door. “Did they lock you out?” She’s a half-second from banging her fist to the wood. Actually, she does do that. “You smug Adonis knockoffs. Open up!”

“They’re not home.” My voice is hoarse. I notice the ice pack in her hand. “Holy shit, are you okay?” I croak out. Her ribcage is seriously bruised.

“What?” She’s confused, until she follows my gaze. A welt the size of a fucking dinner plate blemishes her golden-brown skin. Right below her crop top. “Oh, yeah. It hurts like hell, but I’d take a punch to the ribs over one to the face. Having your eye swollen shut is miserable.”

I crane my neck down the hall toward her older brother’s apartment where she lives. Wondering if I should drag her away from some dude.

Joana sits down beside me, adjusting the ice pack. “I’m a professional boxer.”

That explains things. I nod.

She sweeps my face. “I take it you’re not a professional crier.”

“What gave me away?” I deadpan, smoothing out Son of Ben’s wet knotted fur. “The ugly tears?”

“If that was ugly crying, then the rest of us are grotesque . And no, it’s because when I first met you, you had one of the best mean mugs I’ve ever seen. Not really crying material.”

“I am a professional mean mugger,” I murmur, tears trying to scald my eyes again.

“You’ll have to give me notes for when I’m in the ring.

” Joana holds her legs loosely, but she tenses as her worry escalates.

“I’m so down for silly-stringing their apartment.

Writing some world-class Cobalt insults on their mirrors with lipstick.

I will brainstorm all night. I bet we can piss off one of them, at least.”

So much emotion barrels back into me. “They didn’t do anything wrong.

” I glance over at her. “But thanks.” My voice tries to rattle.

“I’ve never really…” The honesty fades away.

What I planned to say would be a weird confession to someone I barely know.

I just feel so unzipped, undone, and she’s right here to witness my insides tumbling out, with no way to scoop them back in.

I could say, get it together, Harriet, but maybe it’s okay if I don’t this time.

“You’ve never really…?” she asks quietly.