Page 177 of Burn Bright

“Hey, it’s me,” Ben says gently. He’s squatting in front of me, then sits, breaking his legs apart so I fit between them. Heshields me in a way. His body curves toward mine like he’s the castle walls and I’m the porcelain inside. No one has ever treated me like this. No one has ever tried to protect me from harm.

Except him.

I hear achairclattering. “Ben…”You were right.His gaze is tender on me, and he cups the base of my neck, feeling my rapid pulse. His palm slides down to my heart above the top of my breast. It makes me take a much-needed deeper breath.

“You know the funny thing about tornados,” he whispers, “the eye is so…very…calm.” His voice becomes a drug, lulling my body. “So among all this destruction, there is peace at the center. And it’s not hard for me to reach with you.” I ease even more. “You feel that?” he breathes.

I do.“Only with you,” I murmur softly.

His palm slides against my cheek, holding me. “Only with you,” he says back, his chest rising with breath, and I can’t even tell how long we’re on the floor. How long he justsitswith me while his security detail clears the bar.

Time moves differently with Ben. Months are millenniums, only then to be tortured with the knowledge that every era has an end. He is the Golden Age, a period of growth and springtime, where life flourishes, where nature and man are uncorrupted and good. Ovid called it the Eternal Spring, but even the season everlasting had a final chapter. It broke into four. Made way for harder times, for selfishness and greed.

I don’t want to move onto the Silver Age.

I’m not ready. Will I ever be ready? “Ben,” I whisper, his blue eyes already caught on mine. “Are you in trouble?”

He’s confused.

“Is someone blackmailing you?” I ask.

“No,” he whispers, peeks over his shoulder, then back at me. “My brothers think that?”

I nod, more tensed, but he never shies away from me. He’s only pulling closer. “You’re not being coerced to leave, are you? Should I be calling the cops, please tell me the truth?—?”

“I’mchoosingto leave,” he interjects, but each word sounds pained in his throat. “This is my choice. No one is making it for me. No one is threatening me.”

Why does that hurt worse? Maybe because if some fuckwad were messing with him, the solution is so clear. His dad hires some hot shot lawyer, takes down the criminal, and Ben is set free.

Then he’d stay in New York with me.

He stares hard at the cupboard behind my shoulders. “Do they know I’m broke?” He glances at me. His chest collapses in a panicked, anxious breath.

I open my mouth. “I…didn’t…they just kind of got it out…and I couldn’t?—”

“It’s okay,” he says softly, full of understanding, but I can tell this is a secret he never wanted them to have. “I told you they’re relentless.” His eyes redden. “It’s part of why I love them so much.”

I try to exhale slowly. “I’m sorry?—”

“It’s not your fault.It’s okay.” I think he’s trying to reassure himself too. “I knew my family interrogating you for answers was a possibility.”

I speak very hushed. “I didn’t tell them you’re going to the woods without me and that I’m not excited about losing my best friend.”

“You aren’t losing me.”

“You say that, Ben, but writing to you isn’t the same as you being beside me.”

He thinks this over for a few seconds, then his phone buzzes. He checks a text, and his smile begins to peek. “Well, HappyBirthday, Harriet Fisher.” His eyes brighten like a cloudless blue sky. “You’re going to the Honors Halloween party.”

“What? No way!” My voice pitches in pure shock.

He hands me his phone, and I read the personal invite from Guy Abernathy. My jaw is on the fucking floor.

“He invited me by full name,” I mutter. “He said I’m a strong candidate. Holy shit, I get a plus-one.”

Ben runs his hands up my arms. “Who you taking, Fisher?”

I love how he threads his fingers into my hair and holds my head. “I’ll have to check in with my long list of friends.”