Page 264 of Burn Bright
“I didn’t want to stress you out. Not with you just starting to talk to a new therapist, and I was also kind of half-hoping one of your brothers would tell you because I didn’t know how to start the conversation.”
“They all know?”
“That you left all your money to me, yep. They know.” My bangs catch in my eyelashes from a strong gust of wind. I brush them aside, then tug my earmuffs to my neck. “They honestly didn’t find it as shocking as me. Like it was totally in your nature to go broke for a random girl you barely knew, but I’m not going to lie. It shocked me. And I especiallydon’t get why you wouldn’t tell me.”
He fists his beanie, his gaze descending on me in a serious sweep. “I set up the trust before I decided to move to New York. I had no idea…” He takes a breath. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Harriet. When I ran into you at the frat, I didn’t tell you about it then because I planned to leave the city well before January. Which is when you can access the money. I was worriedif you knew why I was broke, you’d think I was even more unhinged or you wouldn’t accept it.”
“I don’t accept it.” I tuck hair behind my ear. “I don’t want it. Take it back.”
“I can’t, and it’s yours.”
“Ben,” I growl. “I cannot keep your money. You gave it to me thinking you didn’t need it. Well, now you do.”
“I really don’t. I’m getting a deposit into my trust fund in May.”
My forehead creases in an even deeper scowl “That’ssixmonths from now. You can’t even budget your bartending tips fortwoweeks.”
He smiles.
“This isn’t funny, dude. You gave me a fortunewhen you barely even knew me. You’re so lucky you chose me and not someone who’d leech off you like an ugly little parasite. Because as soon as I access the trust, I will be slowly redepositing it intoyouraccount.”I’m not sure if I’m even able to do that—it’s not like I’ve ever had a trust before. But it sounds plausible.
Off his grave expression, I’m thinking it might not be.
I add quickly, “You said it’s mine, so I can do what I want with it.”
He cups the back of my head. Strokes my hair. It. Is. My. Weakness. His voice goes soft but deep. “I’d love if you kept it because it’ll be put to better use with you, but you’re right, it’s your choice.”
I bite the corner of my lip. I don’t want to fight him on it. Not today when there’s so many other upheavals in our lives.
Like our living situations.
My entire fucking future.
Throwing money into the mix complicates an already complicated ordeal. I also love our weekend bartending gig at the End of the World, and we just agreed we’d keep workingthere together. I don’t want that to change, no matter how loaded I am on paper.
“I’ll think about it. And I do want you to know something,” I say into a deep breath. “You can give me the entire rainforest, your entire family, your money, your clothes—but nothing will ever compare to you. Just you, Ben.”
His eyes glass, his jaw clenching as he nods. “I feel the same way about you.” He inhales deeply like I just did. “And I know you don’tneedanything but me, but you’re going to have to let me spoil my girlfriend from time to time. It’s in the handbook.”
My face contorts. “What handbook?”
“The Ben Cobalt Boyfriend handbook that I created right fucking now. Section 1. Paragraph 1. It’s all right there.” He waves a hand like there’s an imaginary handbook in the air that I can read.
I fight a smile. “Does this handbook have any other info? Like when your big family exodus from Philly and New York is happening?” The Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts typically spend the holidays all together outside the city. At a lake house.
Somewhere mountainous, private, and secluded from the public.
The location has never been leaked, so I had no clue where Ben would be going for Christmas. Until he told me it’s in the Smoky Mountains. He’s painted the picture of this boisterous, chaotic, festive atmosphere, a giant house filled to the brim with family. How there might be bickering and tears, but it’s followed by a lot of laughter. It always smells like cinnamon rolls and fir trees.
It’s hard to imagine.
I don’t even know my cousins. Ben is close to practically all seven of his. And my childhood home smelled like microwaved pork roast and burnt gravy.
The lake house isn’t as exclusive as Wednesday Night Dinners since their security know of the location, but Ben has said no one has ever invited a girlfriend there for the holidays. I’m sure his parents worry about a break-up and the scorned ex tipping off the tabloids. It’d ruin a very private place they’ve maintained for decades.
“I’m just wondering when you might be leaving,” I clarify. “How much longer do I have with you before you go?” We’ll be spending Christmas separately, and I’m kind of hoping it’s the day before. Maybe he’ll pack up on the 24th.
“Yeah, about that.” He glances at the ice rink, then down at me. “I’m not going.”
