Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
He has needed us.
But it’s hard to say I don’t excuse our oldest brother. When Charlie aims for the jugular like he’s hoping to be stabbed back, the first thing I think is, his mind seems like a prison he’s trying to escape. And I end up just thanking the gene pool lottery that I don’t have an IQ comparable to our dad’s.
Charlie flips a page. “You won’t push Ben to leave a second time around.”
“Yeah, because we’re not letting it happen.” It’s what Eliot would say if he were here. “I think it’s good you’re doing the opposite of what you did before. Make yourself more present. It’s better for Ben to have us all around, especially since you were the one who found him. That changed things for him. I think he’s viewing you differently.” I don’t add, because you care. But he has to fucking care about Ben.
He literally could’ve let him rot away and die.
I intake a sharp breath. Don’t think about it, Tom Carraway.
Charlie is a cynic, but he’s not disagreeing right now, so that’s basically a full-fledged agreement from my vantage.
True luck befalls Charlie since my phone vibrates and claims my attention. He returns to his novel, and I check a new message from an unknown number.
MAYBE LEO VALAVANIS
This is Leo Valavanis from the ballet. Free tomorrow night? Friday? Let’s grab drinks.
9
TOM COBALT
Istiffen like death is setting in. Charlie, thankfully, is still staring at his book and is not witnessing my figurative passing.
Leo Valavanis is a twenty-four-year-old ballet dancer who should not be texting me. There was one very drunken moment at a nightclub where I might’ve told Leo my number. He never called or texted, so I started thinking that I hallucinated the treasonous fucking act where I gave him my personal contact info.
Clearly not. That legit happened.
This wouldn’t be a problem if Beckett wasn’t also a principal dancer with the New York Ballet Company and didn’t act as if Leo moonlights as a serial killer. Beckett despises Leo’s mere existence since NYBC pits them as rivals.
I respond fast before the temptation to accept the invitation becomes unbearable.
TOM CARRAWAY
Probably busy.
There. I denied him.
I’m not a shit brother. Loyalty intact. Eliot would be proud. My frown deepens. I like the feeling of being wanted, but it’s unusual for me to give out my number. So I’m rarely asked out for drinks.
The door blows open.
Beckett is home.
I overturn my phone on the couch cushion. Only to realize Charlie is staring at me like I’m translucent again. This time, it’s actually unsettling.
I try to focus on Beckett, Charlie’s fraternal twin.
His yellow-green eyes dash in heavy concern toward my bedroom down the hall, but he doesn’t check on Ben. Dropping his gym bag, he takes a seat in the identical chair beside Charlie.
His dark brown hair is damp. Probably from showering at the ballet studio. He’s currently in rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet, which’ll be showing in a few weeks. I try to keep up with his hectic schedule. Every month, there’s a new rehearsal and a new ballet production. Then there are the galas, mixed-rep programs, and one-acts packed into a year of full-length shows.
Most people think of ballet as The Nutcracker in December and Romeo and Juliet in February, but it’s so much more than that.
Beckett works nonstop doing what he supremely loves. He’s honestly my idol.
Which is why I’m not checking my phone. Not even when it buzzes with a response from Leo.
“How’s Ben?” Beckett asks me.
“He’s good.” I pick myself out of a slouch.
Beckett frowns, studying my stiff posture. “Are you sure?” He twists to Charlie. “Il s’est passé quelque chose?” Did something happen?
“I don’t know, did something happen, Tom?” Charlie asks in a tone that says I’m not clever enough to get away unscathed.
If Eliot were here, maybe I would. He’s such a good liar, he’s practically a national Cobalt treasure.
I lean backward to relax and avoid the burn against my neck. “From what I can tell, Ben seems all right. No strange behavior. Oh, but he is concerned whether I’m avoiding getting laid because we share a room.”
Beckett looks me over like I’m now the subject of his deep concern. “Are you?”
“I think we should circle back to Charlie and give him a standing ovation for being present this week.” I applaud.
Charlie rotates his pen—his eyes back on his book. Thank fuck. “Horrible way to change the subject.”
“By celebrating you?” I shake my head in mock shame. “You should be soaking in the adoration. I don’t give it to you that often.”
“You give it far too often. Just not more than Eliot.”
“So you’re admitting you enjoy mine more.”
Charlie lifts his gaze to mine. “You are the personification of a cicada.”
“Because I can sing? That’s not very creative of you, Charlie Keating.”
“Because you don’t shut up,” he clarifies.