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)
Our dad carries an air of apprehension. Like he’s preparing for things to go to shit and to dig me and Birdie out of it.
“Mom!” I call out to save her the trouble. “Back here.”
“Phoenix?” Her gray eyes go bulbous at the bloodied towel in Tom’s hand. He tosses it over the couch.
“He’s fine. Totally okay. Barely scratched.” Tom flashes the least smug smile in his arsenal. One that’s very cute, very endearing. He’s trying hard.
It works. My mom’s strict collar relaxes when she reaches us. No makeup, she has soft, fair skin and a delicate face. Almost the antithesis of Tom’s mom, who I saw earlier. Rose has red lipstick, smoky eyeshadow, and knives for cheekbones.
“What happened?” my mom asks, wincing.
“Take a seat, please. I’ll explain,” I motion to the loveseat adjacent to the couch. They both stiffly sit, and Birdie remains standing while I paraphrase the uninteresting ordeal and watch my dad’s lips downturn farther and farther.
I’m sure he’s thinking, This wouldn’t happen in the orchestra.
He pushes up the sleeves to his button-down. He might not be made of a billion dollars like Tom’s dad, but he cleans up well. He has a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and dark, nearly black, hair that he slides his fingers through several times.
“You should be at the hospital,” he cuts in, unable for me to even finish saying, I’m not dizzy. I’m fine.
Tom is restraining this stupid fucking smile, and I realize now…my dad is as impatient as me. Fucking hilarious.
“Dad—”
“Head trauma—”
“I’m not even a little bit concussed,” I bark back.
“I’d prefer you go.”
“Me too,” my mom nods. “You need an MRI. CT scan.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It is not that bad.”
“Who told you this?” my dad asks.
“What medic checked you out?” my mom glances around like she can flag them down and ask a million and one questions.
“I’ll go to the hospital in like fifteen minutes,” I agree, just to end this.
“Did you take your bike?” Dad asks. “You can’t ride it—”
“Aware. I won’t be on a motorcycle.”
“Take the train,” Dad suggests.
“If he wants to be mobbed,” Birdie says, popping a soda.
Mom’s face falls. “Mobbed?”
Thanks, Birdie.
“Tom and Phoenix had to have security just to get in here without being fondled.” Birdie motions a finger at us. “They’re like really big C-list celebrities now.” He grins into a sip of soda. Tom looks like he wants to smack it out of my brother’s hand.
“A-list,” Tom corrects. “We’re a big deal.”
I can’t even refute Tom. We were swarmed outside the Rockefeller Plaza for our late-night segment. We had six security guards on us, and I still had to pry hands off Tom.
I’ve seen the level of fame that follows his parents, and we’re still not near it. Which is insanity to me. This is more than I would’ve ever comprehended from the start.
“You never said anything about that,” Mom frowns at me.
“Nothing bad happened. We’re fine,” I assure her.
“Tom, will you drive him to the hospital?” she asks.
Surprise hits me and Birdie.
“I will, yeah,” Tom nods.
“Do you know how to drive a car?” I ask seriously, staring at his lips for a second.
“Yeah.” He nods, glancing down at my lips too, then up at my eyes. He smiles. I’ve only ever seen him ride his motorcycle. And that was one time. I’ve coveted his Yamaha, to the point where he gave me the keys. He said it’s been collecting dust in his parking garage.
“Or maybe…a cab?” my mom is asking my dad.
“I’ll have my bodyguard drive,” Tom assures them. “But I’ll go with Phoenix.” He places his hand on my thigh, and I’m about to shove him off—but it hurts even thinking it.
So I don’t.
My chest is tight, and I prepare to tell my parents the truth. When I twist back to them, my mom is smiling. My dad even has a soft one.
Before I ask anything, my mom says, “The Carraways, the show—it was absolutely dynamic. The music…” Her eyes well with pride in ways I’ve never seen before. “I can see why you have so many loving fans.”
My dad bobs his head in agreement. “The scream-singing I could do without.”
Tom laughs, which makes me laugh into a smile too.
“But besides that,” my dad says, “it was wonderful. Really, Phoenix. It’s really nice seeing you in your element.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say quietly.
Tom pushes up to a stance. “I’m going to find my parents. Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. St. Pierre.”
“Likewise,” my parents say together, Mom with a big, big smile. Birdie cringes at it.
Tom points at me. “I’ll be back to collect you.”
“Great,” I say dryly. “You want to put an AirTag on me too?”
“No need. I am a homing pigeon, Phoenix.”
Is he calling me his home? I look him up and down. “I thought you were a fucking lion?”