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)
He made a face. “You are good.”
“I’ll never be that good.”
“In comparison to what?” he asked in confusion. “You’re not as good as the other guys on the team? Or you’re not good enough for the NHL?”
“Both, probably.”
“Are you sure?” He frowned, disbelieving. “You’re really good, Pip. We’ve all seen you play.”
“You’re family. You would see me as the best. It’s natural bias.”
His brows didn’t uncinch. It felt like he disagreed, but he let it go to ask point-blank, “Do you like hockey?”
“Do I like it?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Like it’s all you think about. All you dream about. You would lose sleep for it. You would wake up in pain and still get on the ice because you’re more afraid of the day where it all comes to an end.”
I stared at him for a long beat. “Is that what ballet is for you?”
“It’s everything,” Beckett said from his soul. “And hockey…?”
“Isn’t that,” I breathed. “I just like being better-than-slightly-average at something.”
I didn’t tell Beckett about my ultimate plan.
The one I’ve been constructing for a while now. No one would want me to go through with it, but it’s already been set in motion. The biggest derailment has been New York. I was never supposed to be here.
One new step: I need to drop out of MVU before the semester ends. Well before January. So there’s really no point in joining the team if I can’t stay through the season. I just want Coach Haddock to feel like his effort to recruit me wasn’t in vain. Maybe trying out can give him that.
But I hate this new step more than I ever did. Because of Harriet. Because I’ve already started getting attached to going to class with her. Because I’d rather be with this resilient as fuck girl than anywhere without her, really.
At breakfast, I changed the subject off hockey and asked Beckett, “Do you usually eat alone? Before I moved in, I mean.” No one had joined us this past week.
He glanced toward the hallway to Eliot and Tom’s rooms. “On occasion Eliot will wake early enough before he works out.” His yellow-green eyes darted to me, then to his avocado. “And most of the time, Charlie would already be up, but not always.” He added fast, “He’s rarely in New York all seven days of the week. That’s not because of you.”
I’ve borne witness to that too.
Charlie has been MIA for entire days. I never catch him leaving the apartment, but suddenly, his suitcase will be propped against the door. His passport on the kitchen island. He’ll have returned from someplace outside the country.
“Where’d you go?” I asked on Saturday. It was past three a.m.
He stared me dead in the eyes. “I’m not the one who just got home.” He’d heard me come inside the apartment. I’d just returned from my first shift at the End of the World with Harriet.
“I’ve been out,” I said.
Charlie studied me for too long.
So I added, “At a bar. And you?”
“Montreal.” He walked to his room and shut the door. Leaving it at that.
It was honestly a bigger answer than the usual Charlie brush off.
This past week, if Beckett occupies my mornings, then Eliot tries to seize my nights.
“Come to a play with me, Ben.”
“You’ll love Duke’s on 10th, Ben. Best fries of your life.”
“Have you seen Chicago yet? I have an extra ticket that has your name on it, Ben. What say you, brother?”
I said no.
I said I have to study. Which, I kind of did. Over the phone with Harriet, we talked about downloading The Odyssey on audio for our mythology course.
I said I’m meeting up with friends. Also, met up with Harriet at work.
It hurt each time I declined Eliot, but he’s the brother who’d take several stabs to the heart and keep walking toward you and the blade. He would die before giving up on any of us.
Being the resident of the living room, I’ve caught glimpses of Eliot and his nights without me in them. He’ll bump inside at two a.m. with a giggling girl at his waist. He’ll playfully shield her eyes with his hands—just so she can’t see me on the pull-out when they go to his bedroom. He’ll even give me a wink.
When she leaves a few hours later, I’m usually in a half-sleep, and I hear him wish her goodbye at the door. It’s nearly a nightly occurrence, but not with the same girl. Never more than twice.
Beckett was more discreet the Friday night he brought a girl home. He thought I was sleeping. His quiet footfalls wouldn’t give him away, but her awed voice did. “Whoa, this is your place?” She gasped. “Is that your brother?”
I couldn’t make out his whispered reply. He carted her toward his bedroom. I never heard her leave, but it’s not like she evaporated. Knowing Beckett, he likely insisted she be quieter on her exit.