Extra Bonus #95: Winter Break - Hockey with the Cobalts (Connor) (Patreon)

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RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

MUSIC: We listened to "Experience" by Ludovico Einaudi while writing his bonus scene.

SPOILER WARNING: There are spoilers from BURN BRIGHT in this bonus scene. We highly recommend reading the book for reading this bonus.

ROSE SEES THIS MORNING as foreboding. In her mind, it’s too soon for Ben to play hockey, but we can’t know if it is.

I see today as full of change. Time is pushing forward, and our children are moving with it.

Even Charlie. Whether he believes this or not, I do.

He joins me on the front porch stoop. The limo idles near the fountain in the driveway, exhaust pluming out in the cold, but I don’t rush to the car where Rose and Beckett wait.

Not as Charlie lingers beside me and says, “I should’ve stayed there. If only his cabin wasn’t so fucking hideous.”

I presume he means Alaska. And Ben’s cabin. “Spending the holiday away from Beckett when he has this time off would’ve made you miserable.”

“I’m always miserable.”

“Not in that way.”

He doesn’t disagree. He expels a heavy sigh and tugs at his golden-brown hair. He’s in a black V-neck sweater and khaki pants. I don’t see a bag with him like the one at my feet. I have a change of clothes for when we reach the hockey arena since I have on a button-down, navy-slacks, and tailored suit jacket.

I slide my fingers through my hair, the wind picking up and trying to blow the strands. “Are you playing with us?” I ask.

“That’s the plan, and before you say it’s a bad one due to my leg, I don’t care.” He checks over his shoulder at the shut door. His reddened eyes meet mine. “I wish you were angrier at me for keeping everything from you.”

Charlie never told me he put a tracker in Ben’s duffel bag. When I asked him about Ben’s mental state, he didn’t share the depth of his concerns, and even when he understood that his brother must be suffering from OCD, he kept this to himself.

He told no one in the family.

Not even Beckett.

Charlie bought his own private jet over a year ago. Now that he’s not using my fleet of planes, I don’t instruct his pilots to call me whenever he takes off. My son pays them far more than I would for secrecy. He has become more unpredictable to me than he used to be, and I ascribe this to the changes within Charlie.

Until he called me on his return flight from Alaska, I didn’t know where he was or what he was attempting. Other than, I’d hoped, like Rose, that he had somehow found Ben.

I didn’t ask Charlie over the phone, but the minute we were alone together in his apartment, I questioned, “Why the secrecy?”

Rose didn’t care the means in which Ben came home alive. Just that he was home and breathing. She would’ve bartered far more for that outcome. Charlie being coy with us was the smallest price paid.

He sat at the foot of his bed and tried to read my expression as I stood feet away. “You’re angry.”

“Do you want me to be?” I asked him.

That day, he said, “No.”

“I’m not angry.” I took a seat in his leather chair, more eyelevel with him. “I’m deeply concerned.”

He let out a sharp laugh. “Who the fuck isn’t? Your son just disappeared in the most dramatic way possible in hopes to never be found again.”

“I meant about you.”

Charlie worked his jaw and then dragged his eyes along the floor and the many built-in shelves of his bedroom. “That was supposed to be me. I was almost impressed at how well Ben pulled off what I always threatened to do.” He scraped his tongue against his teeth and didn’t blink as he stared off. “I didn’t tell anyone because I could’ve found nothing, and why dole out hope just to crush it?”

I searched his face rapidly. “That’s not all.”

He shook his head slowly, then more rapidly. “That’s not all. I didn’t tell anyone because I could’ve found something worse than nothing.” His nose flared. “There was a chance I could’ve found him dead. He had a gun. He had an axe. He barely had any food. And before I arrived, I just kept thinking…if I find him dead, will Beckett survive this?” A tear ran down his jaw. “Seeing Ben standing there, breathing and upright, was the single-most overwhelming moment of my life, and I almost hate him for it. But then I don’t hate him. Because how can I hate him when I know what led him there?” He dragged a hand across his mouth, then popped up, and I rose with him.

As soon as I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, Charlie pulled me closer into a hug. I pressed a hand to his skull and whispered, “C’est fini.” It’s over.

He gripped my shoulder. “Ce n’est qu’un début.” It’s only the beginning. He said it like there was more tragedy to come.

I pulled back, just enough so he could see the assurance in my eyes. “Beginnings are new starts with new possibilities. Not all end in turmoil, Charlie. Not all paths you can predict. I didn’t foresee what you’d do.”

Charlie wiped his jaw roughly. “I hope you’re right, Dad.” He took a sharp breath. “I sincerely do.”

That’d been the last we’d seriously talked about Ben’s disappearance. Standing on the stoop, about to leave for the hockey arena, I’m questioning why he suddenly wishes I were angrier with him that day. When he’d said he didn’t want my anger.

Turning my back to the limo, I face my son more. “What’s going on?”

He rubs his fingers over his brow as he cringes. “I can feel myself wanting to enrage you and Mom, and it is taking everything inside me not to give into this desire.”

This isn’t uncommon for him. He’s trying to rid an uncomfortable emotion, and maybe he even feels like he deserves our anger just from the act of trying to run from it. “What are you feeling now?”

“Aggravation.”

“Under that?”

“I don’t know…” He grimaces into a deeper wince. I think he does know. Distaste is all over his face as he says, “Out of all my brothers, it had to be him.” He lets out a shrill laugh, then lowers his voice. “He found someone who makes him happy, who gives him a reason for staying, who adores him even at his worst. I’m so elated, so fucking thrilled.” His bitterness sharpens the word off his tongue.

“It’s knowing your brother has Harriet or is it seeing them together?”

“Right now, seeing.” He smooths his lips, then smacks them harshly. “Which is an insufferable amount lately.” He cringes. “They’re always, always cuddling, and so I’m not getting in that car to see more of it.” He motions toward the limo. “I’ll call a driver.”

“Jane and Thatcher are riding separately.”

“I’ll go with them and Maeve,” he says.

We talk for a few more minutes, and when he bends his knee and winces, I say, “It’s not smart to be on skates if it’s bothering you.”

“I’ve never been smart about my injury. Why start now?”

“Because one day, when you experience love, you’re going to wish you never intensified your pain.”

Charlie laughs, a dying, wheezing laugh. “That is with the grand assumption that I can even feel love. And don’t say I love Beckett. You know it’s not the same.”

The door opens behind us before I can respond. We share a knowing look that we’ll speak further another time.

Hockey.

Charlie ends up not playing the Christmas Eve pickup game. He’s sitting in the stands with Audrey, Harriet, and Rose. I don’t know what prompted his decision, but I do know it was a wise one.

The game lasts about an hour.

Tom, Beckett, and Ben are on one team versus me, Eliot, and Jane, and for the most part, it’s Eliot and Ben with the puck. At first, I see Ben’s hesitance. He flinches when Eliot skates too close to him. I never imagined I’d have a son so dedicated to the sport, then come to hate it in fear of harming others, but with each second here, I’m hoping he learns OCD is speaking to him and to not listen to its cruel words.

Whenever Eliot closes in more aggressively than I think Ben can handle, I intervene, and Eliot pulls back with a subtle nod to me.  

Soon, Ben finds a rhythm and he’s less in his head. Maybe it’s the ice hushing his thoughts. He looks less burdened as he soars ahead toward the goal. Jane largely keeps it unmanned. She twirls in circles on her skates, and Ben seems grateful she’s not close. He doesn’t fear hitting her as he takes a shot.

When he scores, we all cheer. Audrey is the loudest from the stands. “BEAUTIFUL, BEN! JUST BEAUTIFUL!”

Harriet whistles. “Nice one, Cobalt boy!”

Ben grins back at his girlfriend.

“The best shot in all of hockey,” Tom pipes in with a genuine smile, circling Ben on the ice. “Make Harvard jealous.”

Ben laughs. “MVU doesn’t play Harvard.”

“That’s because they know you’re better than them, Ben Pirrip. They quake with fear.”

Eliot grins and points his stick at Ben. “You are mightier than them all.”

Ben has a glassy-eyed look like he wishes this were true. He sees me watching and intakes a deeper breath, then skates toward the middle where I am. “You drop the puck, Dad.” He hands it to me.

As we face off, I tell him, “You’ve already done the hard part.”

His eyes lift to mine.

“You’re here,” I whisper.

He swallows hard, then he begins to smile into a laugh. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“I know you never did.”

He looks a little choked up, but he nods quickly like, I’m okay. I squeeze his shoulder before I drop the puck between us. He’s fast.

Faster than I am.

Ben doesn’t score the next goal, though. He passes the puck to Tom, who shoots in the net. The lack of fanfare has Tom gaping. “Hello? WTF from the stands! Where’s my applause?!”

“Good job, Thomas,” Harriet says with one clap.

“MARVELOUS!” Audrey yells.

“You forgot gorgeous!” Tom shouts back. “And amazing! And the best!” He clucks his tongue at Eliot. “Some crowd.”

“Subpar,” Eliot agrees.

Beckett laughs. He’s doing slow laps from one end to the other, speaking to Ben a little each time they pass. It always ends with them grinning.

Beckett has no interest in facing off with Eliot, and he’s more so waiting in the wings, like me, to see where he’s most needed.

We finish the game, and no one winds up injured. Ben’s team wins five to two. The relief in his eyes, followed by pure light, is enough to power all his brothers and sisters.

Rose even has a smile as we head to the parked limo, trailing our children. She takes one glance at me and glares. “Go ahead,” she snaps. “Say what your smug grin is already telling me.”

“I wasn’t going to say, I told you so.”

She scoffs. “Please. It’s all over your face, Richard.”

“I didn’t know how today would turn out any more than you did, Rose.”

“Then what is that.” She points a matte black nail at my lips.

“A grin.”

“A grin of what?”

“Happiness,” I say. “I’m happy that you’re this happy and our children are happy, even if it’s momentary. I’m reveling in the moment. Aren’t you?”

Her lips tic up again. “Yes. We’re the same that way.” I slide my hand into hers. She squeezes tightly, and I pull her into my side before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple.

“They’re going to be okay, darling,” I whisper. “Everyone is going to be okay.”

She inhales a much stronger breath.  

The twenty minute car ride leads us to an upscale bar decorated in green tinsel and gold ornaments for the holidays. Rose and I bought out the bar for this private event (family only), and while most everyone congregates around the fireplace lounge, I notice Tom lingering at the bar. Strained lines crease his eyes.

So I quietly remove myself from the conversation, and he barely looks up from his phone when I reach the bar.

The bartender wipes a glass. “What can I get you, Mr. Cobalt?”

Tom flinches and bumps the glass of eggnog he hasn’t touched. “Holy shit. When did you get the ability to teleport?”

“Never.” Being accused of teleportation reminds me of Lily. There’s a part of her that actually believes I have superpowers—that wants to believe. My son, however, is just trying to perturb me.

It never works, but I love his untiring nature. I love that he always tries to do the impossible.

I worry that same nature is what will hurt him one day.

Glancing at the bartender, I say, “I’ll have the same as my son. Thank you, Reece.”

“Coming right up.” He smiles into a nod. Tom mops up the eggnog spill with a cocktail napkin before Reece can.

“You sure it wasn’t teleportation?” Tom has a smile full of mischief. “Because that felt pretty immediate.”

“I walked. If you weren’t looking at your phone, you would’ve seen.”

“Maybe we should pull up the security tapes to verify.” He tries to maintain a grin, but his focus pulls to his phone again. He scrunches his face. “It’s just band stuff. There is a band. The Carraways isn’t dead. Warner quitting is just one snag. I will fix it.”

“What has Jeremy said?” I don’t speak to his manager unless he contacts me, which he almost never does. That’s a relationship Tom built all on his own, and I wouldn’t undermine it.

“Good things. Yeah. Positive things.” Tom nods too much for this to be completely true.

“If you need my help—”

“I don’t,” Tom cuts in, shoving his phone in his back pocket. “There’s nothing you can do, and even if you could do something, I don’t need a save from my parents. I don’t even need unsolicited advice. I can do this on my own. I’m not a child.”

I always thought Tom was more like Rose—all fire and burning passion—but the older he becomes, I’ve realized just how much he’s like me.

Thank you so much for reading this month's Extra Bonus! We're back to close out the hockey game in the Winter Break series. It was so much fun getting to explore Connor's perspective on what happened at the end of Burn Bright. We hope you enjoyed this one!

This not only concludes the content for December, but this is the last of the content for 2025. Thank you all for making this year so incredibly special! We hope you all have a fantastic New Year's Eve, and we'll see you next year 💖

All the love in every universe,

Krista & Becca

 “Winter Break: Hockey with the Cobalts (Connor)," Copyright © 2025 by K.B. Ritchie