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)
“I will,” she says definitively.
I breathe in a stronger breath. “I’ll write to you as soon as I can. It might be a week.” My return address on the mail I send will be a P.O. Box in Philly that I’ve set up. Any letters sent to me will be forwarded from there. So no one will ever have my actual address.
Not even Harriet.
I can’t give it to her. The risk of my family finding me is too high.
She nods.
Another kiss to her cheek, and I back away. Each step is a wrench cranking inside my body. Then I reach for the doorknob.
“This isn’t how we end, Friend,” she says suddenly. It stops me.
Those are the same words I said to her months ago in the back of her Honda. I rotate to Harriet. My pulse pounding. My heart skidding.
She’s several feet from me, her narrowed eyes drilling into me with powerful resolve. “You said Cobalts carve out futures they want. I don’t believe this is really what you want, Ben, and it’s not what your brothers will want either. It’s not what I want.” She points at her chest. “So if I were to make some grand prediction, I’d say this isn’t how we end. This isn’t over. You’re in my future for so much longer than this.”
I want to believe her, but my gut says I will let her down. Because I have to let her down. There is no way out.
“Do amazing things, Fisher.” I give her one last smile.
Then I go.
I leave my entire world behind me.
54
HARRIET FISHER
He’s gone. I’m stuck in a motionless state when Ben exits my apartment. Our interaction cycles through my head at a painful, incoherent speed. I’ve known Ben planned to move for months, but it’s never triggered this type of alarm in me.
The last several weeks, he’s only mentioned staying. Then his sister was in harm’s way at the frat, and everything changed too abruptly. He feels responsible enough that he’s leaving? How will that help? It’s not rational. I think back to how many times his pulse sped when he mentioned this move. Panic. Pure panic.
Anxiety? Fear?
I want to be a fucking doctor—how did I not see something could’ve been wrong on a psychological level? That it’s possibly even deeper than anyone knows…
What if Ben never wants to be found?
What if that’s the point of everything?
Nausea barrels up my esophagus, and I race into the bathroom. Kneeling just in time to vomit in the toilet. I shake and dizzy as I puke my guts up. Sweat beads my skin. There’s no fucking time for this, Harriet. I grip the bowl, unable to stop that quickly. I swallow some down, then crawl into a stance. Picking myself up, I run for my phone.
I snatch it off the couch and call Beckett. “Please answer, please answer.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Stomach acid sears my throat.
It beeps into his voicemail greeting. “If you called the right number, you know who this is. I’m likely unavailable. Just ring me again in an hour or I’ll get back to you when I can.”
At the second beep, I say fast, “Ben is gone. We need to find him before he leaves the city. You need to stop him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop him.”
Did I not try hard enough? I should’ve tried so much harder. What could I’ve done better? I finish leaving a voicemail message and try not to contemplate my failings—instead, I send a group text to his brothers.
Harriet
BEN IS GONE!!!! WE NEED TO FIND HIM!!!
There aren’t enough shouty caps and exclamations in the world to express my distress right now. Moving hurriedly, I unfurl the paper bag on the couch, sifting aside the extra bags of chips to grab the slim blue box.
An unopened pregnancy test. My heart pangs in the worst way possible. Since my birth control prevents my period, it’s not easy to deduce whether I could be pregnant. My breasts have felt more tender recently, and I freaked myself out enough to purchase a test.
Ever since his mom said Cobalt sperm is powerful enough to defeat birth control, my paranoia has run rampant, and I wanted to put it to bed. Now, this is just coming at a horrible fucking time.
I didn’t want Ben to discover the test in the bag. I wasn’t going to mention it because this test was supposed to quell my anxieties. Not baby trap him. It felt like a gross way to manipulate him to stay. Now I’m wondering if I should’ve, for his sake.
I collect mouthwash from the bathroom to use on my walk to the subway. I check my phone.
No texts?
Most of his brothers are likely on stage, not near a phone, but what about Charlie? Once I gather my things into my backpack, I slow down as the stuffed animal and Ben’s blue baseball cap catch my eye on the kitchen counter.