Page 156 of Burn Bright
“It’s not,” Beckett says softly, which nearly has me relaxing backward, but I side-eye my dad. His gaze is tunneling.
I rest my elbows on the table, smearing my hands down my face. “Can I be done?”Please.
And then my dad says, “We need to talk about the estate lawyer.”
Oh.
My.
Fuck. My hands are motionless in the air, my face turned toward my dad. My breath is trapped in my constricting lungs. “What about the estate lawyer?”
“Why did you meet with him?”
35
BEN COBALT
This.This is exactly what they all knew at the start of the dinner. It wasn’t about Harriet. Their concern has escalated because they know about the fuckingestate lawyer.
I hadn’t even considered that my parents could find out I contacted him. Which makes me the fool. He’s not just my dad. He’sConnor Cobalt.He might as well be an all-knowing deity who chooses not to overly interfere in his children’s lives—unless he thinks something terrible will happen.
I shake out my thoughts. “Meet with who?”
“Gordon Brown.”
Yup. That’s him.
I am unblinking. Staring at the flickering candles in front of Beckett. Wow, my dad must be triply concerned if he’s decided to do this amongeveryone.By their patient silence, I’m positive they all knew this was coming and were instructed to take backseat roles. “What is this—an ambush?” I ask him. “You couldn’t pull me aside and ask me privately?”
“We are beyond that,” he says gently.
My brows hike upward. “Is this an intervention?” I question him, then Mom. “For meeting with a fucking estate lawyer?” Iam panicked, terrified for them to know the entire truth, but all of this translates outwardly into anger. “Why? Why the fu—” I cut myself off.Don’t curse.My parents aren’t big sticklers about swearing. They might make a comment if we throw out a bunch offucks, but I just prefer not cursing up a storm around them out of courtesy.“Why would this be a problem?”
“The timing gave us a reason for concern,” he explains.
“The timing,” I echo with a heated nod. “Right.”
Shit.Fuck.All I can do is hope that Gordon cares about my client-attorney privilege more than Novak cared about our client-bodyguard one. “You ran into him?” I wonder. “He called you up?”
“Last time I talked with him, he mentioned seeing you.”
I wish I ate my seitan during opening remarks. I’m too nauseous to even consider consuming a walnut. My mind is whirling a mile a minute, and I tuck in closer to the table and level my hands. “Okay, so everyone can stop freaking out about me—yes, I did meet with Gordon Brown in May.” I name the time of date that has them troubled. “Yes, it was after I attacked Tate Townsend. That night, I was thinking a lot about death because I could’vekilleda guy, so I started thinking I should be more involved in my own estate planning.”
“That’s reasonable,” Eliot says quietly, eyeing our dad.
I shake my head at my dad, likecome on.“I’m trying to be more responsible after doing something pretty irresponsible like putting my fist in another guy’s face and sending him to the hospital.”
“Why not share this with us?” Dad questions. “Why do you feel the need to hide it?”
“It didn’t cross my mind.”
I can’tmasterfully lie to them, but that doesn’t mean I have to spill the whole truth. They’re just going to have to sit longerwithout all the information. And yeah, for my family that’s like telling them to go dig their own graves.
“Look, things are better in New York,” I say, which is true. I’ve grown closer to Harriet there.
Mom straightens her silverware. “What exactly did you discuss with Gordon?”
“Legal stuff.” I stop myself from picking up a fork and pushing around a potato on my plate. They will only let go if I maintain eye contact.Directness.
