Page 85 of Burn Bright

“It’s nothing.” His cold gaze is cemented on the elevator.

Oscar sends Charlie a seriously concerned look. I wonder if he’s already spoken to my brother about the issue. Because Oscar remains quiet, then faces forward again. They have a closer relationship than I have with Novak, and it’s not strange to think Oscar might know things about my brother that I don’t, considering he’s with him nearly all day, every day.

We don’t say anything else. Not even when we reach Harriet’s apartment.

I knock on the door, my pulse on a fiery ascent.

Maybe it’s good Charlie is here. If he did something, he can apologize. He can make it right…not that he’s ever been good ateitherof those things.

No one answers. Shit, she has to be here. I don’t know where else I would search otherwise. I run a hand through my hair and knock again. The door swings open to reveal a tall girl in a polka dot pajama set. Her dark bangs are pinned back with silver clips, and her eyes go as round as her mouth.

“Oh my fuckingGod.” She’s staring right at my brother, and it’s almost laughable how bad my baseball cap hid him.

He forces a tight smile.

She gasps like he dropped on one knee.

“You’re Eden, right?” I cut in. “Harriet’s roommate.”

Her jaw drops even farther when she swings her gaze to me. “You know my name?”

“Is Harriet home?” I ask as Eden opens the front door wider for us. I step inside, but my brother stays back like he’s some immortal vampire who hasn’t been invited in yet.

“She’s not here,” Eden says, quickly pulling out the clips from her hair. She brushes her bangs down with her fingers.

“Can I check her room just in case?” I ask.

Eden frowns. “She sleeps on the couch.” She points to the lumpy lime-green sofa in the middle of the living room. “She’s renting the pull-out.”

My stomach nosedives. I’m sleeping on a couch too, so I don’t know why Harriet crashing every night on one is driving more worry into me. I also don’t know why I assumed that she shared a room with her roommate. Like a dorm. Bunk beds…I never actually went into the bedroom, I realize.

“Do you know where she could be?” I ask.

Charlie’s leaning a hip in the doorway, listening to everything. Probably analyzing all the ways in which I don’tknow Harriet that well. But he’d be wrong. So I didn’t know she was sleeping on a fucking couch? She doesn’t know I’m sleeping on one too. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Noooo,” Eden draws out the word, her eyes pinging from me to Charlie like she’s etching this in her memory. “To be honest, I don’t talk much with Harriet. We kind of keep to ourselves. How do you know her anyway?”

“College,” I say vaguely, then I remember something. Harriet lived out of her car. If she needed to go somewhere more private than a shared living room, I bet it’d be there.

I turn back to Eden as the lightbulb moment surges hope through me. “Does your apartment come with a parking spot?”

19

BEN COBALT

Oscar parks in an open space three cars down from the Honda, and my brothers thankfully stay in the Range Rover as I hop out. My pulse is climbing as I close in on Harriet’s car, and the smell of urine in the parking garage doesn’t fucking help.

I’m at the bumper and peering through the rear windshield and—shit. I don’t see anyone sitting in the driver or passenger seats.

Slipping between the silver Honda and a blue Dodge Charger, I squint through the tinted window into the backseat. My shoulders fall in relief when I see her. Eyes closed, chunky headphones on, and a pillow under her head while she lies longways. A fuzzy hot-pink Hello Kitty blanket partially covers her slender frame.

I rap my knuckles against the window. Her eyes instantly pop open in alert. It takes two seconds for recognition to sink in, then her brows draw together in deep confusion. Did she not think I’d check in on her?

She doesn’t make a move to the door.

I point down to the handle, trying to signal for her to unlock it.

She blinks four times as if she’s shaking off a heavy thought. Leaning forward, she flips the lock for me.