Page 9 of Burn Bright

Despite feeling like I’m the black sheep among lions, there’s so much I love about my unshakeable family. I love that it’s not easy to gain access to all of us when there are people in the world with cruel intentions. I know they exist—even if Charlie will claim I’m sonaïveto the atrocities of others.

I see it.

I see it overwhelmingly. I see that trust is too valuable a commodity.

Still, I give my trust more freely than many of my siblings, but in a way, I think we all know which pieces to hold backfrom strangers. And I think we all know which pieces will always belong to each other.

It’s far from misery to be bred from the kind of love that pulls you to your feet when you’ve crashed hard. And this past year, I’ve fuckingcrashed. This low was worse than being body-slammed into ice. Worse than any hit I’ve ever taken in a hockey rink.

It’s why I left Philly.

But I didn’t want to leave Audrey this soon. I dragged my feet for so long because of my little sister. Even now, I don’t know if this is where I should be, if this is just another mistake I’m making, but my college records have already been transferred to Manhattan Valley University.

My first class is tomorrow.

I just have to see where this choice takes me. Even if it wasn’t part of the plan.

Clutching my phone to my ear, I grip a handrail with my other hand. The subway car rattles along the tracks, and I hear my older brother’s smooth, calming tone.

“What time are you getting in?” Beckett asks. “I’ll pick you up.”

“You mean your driver will pick me up,” I whisper while I’m in public. Girls in business casual blouses and skirts read on tablets, and I can’t be sure if they’re close enough to overhear or if they even recognize who I am. Or if they evencarethat I’m a Cobalt.

How the public perceives me—I don’t pay much attention to. But some in my family are extremelyprivate. Beckett being themostprivate, I don’t want to be the one to air any aspect of his personal life to fans, press, the media—so I try to be mindful.

“I’ll be with my driver,” Beckett says. “I’m taking tonight’s performance off?—”

“Don’t.”

“Ben—”

“Don’t miss ballet for me.” I dip my head down, the rim of my old baseball cap shielding my eyes. “I’ll get there when I get there.”

Beckett exhales a long breath. The truth is, I’m only moving to New York becauseheasked me to. If it were any other brother, I would’ve just suffered alone under the weight of my mistakes. But Beckett Joyce—I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember.

I’m number six out of seven.

He’s number three. And when it felt like every older brother poked and poked andpoked, he was the one who just held and hugged. Hell, sometimes I loved him more than I loved our father, who we all revere and admire in our own way.

But there were times I wished Beckett were my dad.

Then he married ballet, and he left home at sixteen to be with the love of his life.Dance.He was trained in a prestigious conservatory, then accepted to the New York Ballet Company. It’s the best in America. He’s a principal dancer, and people who’ve never seen him perform might think he got handed it because of his last name.

But once you see him on stage, the truth is palpable.

He landed the coveted title on pure talent. He is grace and beauty, and according to ballet critics, his technique is unmatched.

I can’t take him away from that—not for something as temporaryas me crashing at his apartment for…for hopefully not that long.

I’m not just living with Beckett. All four of my older brothers share a four-bedroom apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. I wastwelvethe last time we all lived under one roof, and I can’t see how it won’t cave in if I’m there for more than a few weeks.

So yeah, this has to be temporary.

I’m not trying to make their lives harder. It’s bad enough they feel the need to scoop me up like I flew too close to the sun and melted my wings.

I hear muffled voices in the background of the call, and Beckett quickly says, “I have to go. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Yeah,” I get in right before he hangs up, and I just really wish he weren’t the busiest of my brothers. Catching quality time with him is like ensnaring a bird.