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)
His response is to bolt. To leave. Avoid.
My goal is to make sure he understands everything is okay. Living with us, spending time with us, isn’t going to harm us. In fact, I want him here more than I want a sold-out tour or an award-winning album.
I would choose to lose my voice over losing my brother. I don’t think I can go through him disappearing again.
And I’m terrified it might happen.
But Ben isn’t hyperventilating or sobbing or dashing for the door. He’s currently looking at me like I’m two seconds from self-combustion.
“You sure you’re fine?” Ben asks, sounding skeptical. He stands off his bed. “If you’d rather talk to Eliot, I get it—”
“Dude, no, it’s not that,” I interject fast, watching him go to his plain wooden dresser. “Really, I’m good.” I expel an annoyed breath. “I mean…Phoenix has trespassed inside my brain and now is living there like an unlawful resident. Other than that, yeah, I’m good.”
Ben peers back at me with an emerging smile. I love when he smiles, so I will take this solid win. “Is this the real Phoenix?” he asks. “Or the fake brother Phoenix?”
I informed my family about my new bandmate. It’d been hard to keep it under wraps when my siblings and parents knew I had the deadline coming up for The Carraways. They all have their opinions on the situation, but I think most are just happy that my dream hasn’t been turned to ash.
The label loves “the look” of us together apparently. They were sold on the rock-duo concept the minute we stepped into Riot’s corporate offices in Midtown.
“The real Phoenix.” I rise to my feet. “And the fact that that needs clarification is all kinds of screwed up. Who gives their real name to their brother to use? It’s psychotic.” I lace my hands on my head. “Fuck. I think I have a psycho in my band.”
Ben laughs, and I grin. Yeah, I’m acing this whole roommate situation. Maybe by the end of this, he’ll be heartbroken at the idea of separating from me. He’ll never want to leave.
Ever again.
He tugs open his drawer and slips on drawstring pants. “Maybe real Phoenix has a legitimate reason.”
I make a face. “Like what?” I go to the mini-fridge. “I can’t think of a single legitimate reason. I’d rather eat clay than let any of you fuckers use my name.” I pull out an energy drink and shut the fridge.
His wooden bed frame squeaks as he plops down. “I think the feeling is mutual with the others,” Ben says.
The others. He means our other brothers. “Not you, Ben Pirrip?”
“Use my name all you want.” He smiles with deep sincerity.
I blink. “Ben.”
“What?” He laughs while slipping a sock on his big foot. “It’s just a name, Tom.”
“A name isn’t a couch or a ball cap or a cup of sugar you give away. It literally defines who you are. It belongs to you.” I point at him with my energy drink. “Tell me you’ve forgotten that your name is trademarked and that by giving it up you’re actually losing money.” Our parents trademarked all of our names when we were younger.
Ben slips on his left sock. “You want me to lie to you?”
“No, definitely don’t do that,” I mutter, trying not to freak out over the fact that Ben would intentionally sell his name.
I’ve known that he’s selfless. I’ve known that he does impulsive shit. I’ve also known he could be eaten by a human piranha one day if he doesn’t grab at least one piece of armor.
It’s just hitting harder after his disappearance. All I want to do is place him in a padded room and never take my eyes off him. Which is creepy and deranged on my part, so yeah, I’m not suggesting that. I take a hefty swig of the carbonated drink.
Is Phoenix like Ben? Is that why he gave his name to Birdie? I don’t…see it. I can’t really get a good read on him, and it’s driving me batty.
“What if his brother took it without asking?” Ben theorizes.
“He stole his name?” Fuck. What do I know about Birdie? He’s a prick. But I would say the same about Phoenix. Two peas in a rotting pod.
Ben moves his laptop over to his nightstand. I think he’s been working on a college assignment since he’s in his sophomore year at Manhattan Valley University. I can’t remember which classes he’s enrolled in this semester.
A sudden wave of brotherly guilt hits me.
I should know this about him.
I know stupid shit about Eliot, like how many pairs of shoes he has in his closet. So remembering Ben’s courses shouldn’t be hard. I’m about to get all the info when he looks up at me and asks, “Do you still talk to that RJ guy?”