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)
Eliot sinks beside Tom. Wraps an arm around him. “There is no crumb we won’t follow, brother. We will find him.”
“What about logging into his accounts?” I ask. “Seeing what flight he booked?”
“Our parents have people working on tracking him,” Beckett says, “but he might be untraceable. We don’t think he took a commercial flight. Or if he flew at all. No one knows how many people Ben has been in touch with or who they even are. He could’ve called in favors or paid people to discreetly get him where he needs to go.”
He’s broke, but maybe this is why. He always intended to move before the end of the semester. Maybe he paid them in advance.
“Did he leave you anything?” Beckett asks me.
I nod quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, a letter. You can read it in case you think he says anything that could help find him. Just…just be careful with the pressed flower.” I dig through my backpack in my arms, emotion clouding my gaze. My pulse is out of whack, and I end up losing grip and dumping half my things onto the floor. Tiny pieces of candy scatter everywhere. “Shit.” I kneel, finding the letter under spilt Jolly Ranchers. Ugh, I don’t want to fucking cry right now. I wipe my wet eyes with my bicep.
Beckett and Eliot crouch down to gather loose pieces of hard caramel candies and rolling jawbreakers. Then in slow-motion, I witness Beckett grabbing the slim blue box off the floorboards. How is this happening? You’re a mortal among gods, of course your luck is shit. I am being asphyxiated as Beckett and Eliot glance from the pregnancy test to me.
I snatch it from Beckett’s hands. “It’s just a precaution.”
“So you don’t think you are?”
“I don’t know, dude. I haven’t taken it yet.” I sound defensive. Can they tell I’m scared?
“Taken what?” Tom stands from the couch, spotting the pregnancy test in my clutch. He goes motionless. We’re both grimacing. Then he falls back on the cushions. “What else is going to be thrown at us? An earthquake?”
Eliot scrapes a hand along his hard jawline. “Ben,” he says roughly, then looks to Beckett. “Our little brother was having unprotected sex.”
“I’m on the pill,” I shoot back.
“Did you miss a day?” Beckett questions.
I burn up. “No. No.” I pick myself up to my feet. They follow suit, towering and staring down at me like I’m young and inexperienced. Possibly because I’m with their youngest brother. I don’t know what it’s like to have older siblings—or really, siblings at all. “Like I said, it’s just a precaution.”
Eliot shakes his head hotly, his gaze on my flat belly. “Ben couldn’t have known. If he had any idea that he got you pregnant, he would’ve never left you.”
It confirms that I could’ve done more. I nearly double over. I swallow all the brimming pain. “Well, I didn’t tell him,” I snap, then I hand Beckett the letter. “I’m probably not pregnant. I didn’t want to manipulate Ben.”
“You’re better than me,” Eliot paces toward the kitchen, then back, each footfall scalding the floor. “I would’ve told him I have a terminal illness. That I expect him to bury me in three weeks with his own hands or else I’d haunt his ass for fucking eternity.”
“Or maybe I’m worse,” I rasp. “Because I didn’t…” I didn’t do enough.
“He was going to leave,” Beckett rationalizes. “We did what we could when we could.”
I peer down at the pregnancy test, inhaling a deeper breath. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Why is she asking—why are you asking?” Eliot says to me, standing still. “Has this not been your home the past few weeks?”
Don’t cry, Harriet. He’s basically saying this fact doesn’t change if Ben is gone, but it feels like everything does. “Thanks,” I mumble, darting to the powder room. I’m shaking as I rip open the box.
The instructions confuse me. Maybe because I’m staring at Spanish. Hurriedly, I flip the paper over to the English directions. I reread the same line four fucking times, but the typed black font isn’t processing. Teardrops wet the paper.
People leaving me is nothing new.
Sunny, my drum instructor, left me without a note.
My father left me without a goodbye.
My mother left me by shoving me out the door.
So is it any wonder that I accepted Ben leaving me too? In the end, I relegated this loss as a commonplace part of my life. Familiar. Routine.
Now, I’d give anything for him to come back.
A knock sounds on the door. “Just let me know you’re okay.” It’s Beckett.
“Yeah.” A broken noise breeches my lips.
He jiggles the knob. “Let me in.”
I unlock the door. “I can’t read it.” I can’t see him past the film of tears. “I’m—”
Beckett immediately pulls me into a hug, and I release a wounded sound against his chest. I’m muttering, “I don’t want to do this without him. I can’t lose him. We have to find him. We have to find him.”