Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
“Let’s just sit down.” Harriet grasps my hand, carting me toward the lime-green sofa. “The Hello Kitty blanket has your name on it tonight, Cobalt boy.”
I laugh a little, but the sound just dies inside my lungs. I squeeze her hand, then let go as she plops down on the cushions.
Instead of joining her on the sofa, I push aside the guac and chips. Taking a seat on the coffee table.
Her confusion narrows her eyes. She moves to the edge of the couch, our legs knocking together. “Ben—”
“I can’t stay for a movie.”
She freezes.
“I want to,” I add deeply.
“Animated movies are an hour and thirty minutes tops.”
I feel like I’m being crushed alive. “I have thirty minutes.”
Alarm springs her brows into her blonde bangs. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m leaving New York tonight.”
She slides backward like I pushed her. “No, no. You can’t leave. You said…the holidays? What happened to staying for the holidays?” Her pinpointed gaze drifts around the apartment. She intakes a sharp breath when she spots my canvas duffel in the entryway.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I really thought I was going to stay for Christmas. I was even planning on staying indefinitely, but…”
“But what?” Her eyes grow wider. Not in anger. She’s confused, distressed, worried. “What changed?”
I stare up at the whirling fan. “My sister almost died last night, and it was my fault, Harriet.” I meet her gaze. “I can’t be here.”
“You didn’t give her fentanyl. Those Kappa dickheads did that. Okay, fuck them. They should go rot away in the woods. Not you.”
“I’m not going to rot away. I’m the sun, remember?”
She’s unblinking. “I remember you telling me you aren’t the sun. Do you…do you feel like you’re decaying, Ben?”
“No,” I reach out and clasp her small hand between both of mine. “I’m not suffering from depression. I am very fucking torn up about leaving you right now, but I haven’t been over here masking my sorrow with joy. Every time I laughed with you, that was always real. It wasn’t to hide sadness. I was never sad when I was with you, Harriet. You’ve made me so unbelievably happy.” My voice chokes as emotion balls in my throat.
She opens her mouth to speak, but more confusion twists her features.
“I know it makes no sense,” I breathe.
“You’re right…it doesn’t,” she says slowly in thought. “If you’re worried about that happening again, then never step foot on Douche Row. You don’t have to drop out of college. You definitely don’t need to leave New York or me…” Her voice fades.
I lace our hands together. I can’t figure out how to explain this. My brain is just saying, calm her down. Make sure she’s okay before you go. “What’s in there?” I nod to the paper bag on the sofa beside her. “Party favors?”
She chews her lip. “You really want to make this a Going-Away Party? Don’t you think we should invite your brothers?”
“I like this party of two.” I reach out to grab the bag.
She’s so fast to snatch it away, rolling the paper so I can’t see inside. “It’s just junk food.”
Okay. Is she hiding something from me? I nod tensely. “We could start the movie?” I suggest.
“I can’t watch a movie right now.” She places the paper bag aside, then scoots forward again. “You can’t leave. Because look around, nature boy.”
It’s very difficult to follow her whirling finger when I want to engrain her determined, hostile expression in my head forever. I try to take stock of all the potted plants. Ferns, ponytail palms, eucalyptus, devil’s ivy, weeping fig. All around us is vibrant green.
“They will die without you,” Harriet says so sternly. “I have a black thumb. Okay, they will die in this fucking apartment, Friend. They need you.”
“I put the watering schedule on the fridge.”
She purses her lips, like she forgot about that. “It’ll slip off the magnet,” she contends. “It’s a super old Minnie Mouse one from my only family vacation. It’s practically ancient.”
“Disney World or Land?” I wonder.
“Land, and stop trying to make me smile.” I know she’s serious, but her finger at my face is just making my lips rise more, which is causing her smile to fight through. “Eden will find the watering schedule on the floor, Ben. She will trash it. Then the plants will die.”
“Every plant has a popsicle stick in the soil with its label. I have full faith that you’ll do the Harriet Fisher thing and research them and make an Excel spreadsheet that can’t be trashed. You’ll take great care of them.”
“What about the End of the World?”
“Literally or figuratively? Because I don’t think doomsday is happening anytime soon.”
“Are we sure? This feels catastrophic to me.”
That warps my thoughts, a sledgehammer to the brain. Because if I stay, that feels like the real disaster.