Page 18 of Burn Bright
“I already told Ben I would.”
“It’s not about that,” I jump in. “Okay, I just think the couch is better.” I’m doing a piss-poor job at reasoning with them.
In their minds, my request is absurd.
I make no sense.
The logical thing is to sleep on a bed.
“There’s no privacy out here,” Beckett reminds me.
I shrug. “I don’t care.”
I don’t plan to be here for long.
I’ll be out of your hair soon.
Don’t worry.
“We could get a pull-out,” Tom suggests, opening and closing a Zippo lighter. Theclick, clickfills the tense silence.
Charlie stares at me like he’s mid-excavation from five feet away. Digging through my insides.
I’m burning up.
Eliot rests his forearm on his bent knee, bowing toward me as he asks, “Is there something wrong with my room, Ben?”
I smash my ballcap in my hands. “Can we not act like we’re on the set of Clue and you’re Mr. Green?”
“We can because I’d only play Colonel Mustard.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I end up laughing. The lively sound dies too fast, and I lean farther back and try to look anywhere but at the brothers I sincerely love, which leaves me glancing at Charlie. I blink a few times, then say, “Nothing is wrong with your room, Eliot.”
He nods once. “I detect no lies.”
“When has he ever lied?” Charlie says like it’s just another shortcoming.
“Because you know me so well,” I snap at him.
“Because you’re so complicated.”
“Because you’re theonly onewho can be,” I retort.
Charlie laughs dryly, his annoyance contorting his face, and he shoots to his feet like he’s done with me. I don’t know why that hurts. It’s what I want, isn’t it?
For him to stop digging into me.
“Charlie,” Beckett pleads, then looks to me. “We just want you to be comfortable here, Ben.”
I watch Charlie lower back down.
Tension never leaves my body. “I could sleep on the floor and I’d be fine. I can make up the couch every night, and I’ll put the blankets up every morning. You won’t even notice I’m here.”
Beckett scrunches his face in a physical manifestation of the phrase,what the fuck. “That’s not the point of you living with us.”
I scrape a rough hand through my hair. My eyes sear as one of the worst nights of my life tries to tunnel back into me. Anger amasses in my chest that I can’t throw off.
Then fear.
