Main Bonus #88: Grilled at Duke's on 10th (Patreon)

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

THE COLD NOVEMBER AIR can’t pierce me. Not just because of my long pleather jacket—which I will never discredit (this jacket has saved me from miserable, bone-chilling nights in my car)—but because this weekend with Ben has bundled me in a cocoon of warmth. 

That’s why you keep spending the night at his place, I tell myself. Who doesn’t like a heating blanket? You will return to your couch in your apartment soon.  

I will.  

But for now, I delight in the fucking fact that Ben is staying. In New York. With me. 

At least until the holidays. Maybe longer, if I let myself hope.  

So on our way to Duke’s on 10th to meet up with his brothers, I’m a warm, stupidly gooey Harriet Fisher, and I feel light as a fucking feather. Major props to the Cobalt boy carrying my backpack on his shoulder for five blocks.  

Ben pushes his windswept hair back as we stop at a crosswalk.  

“You want a break, Friend?” I reach up for the backpack.  

His smile is the sun shining down on me. “Trying to take away my only gentlemanly deed, Fisher?”  

It is far from the only gentlemanly thing he’s done. He held open two doors for me when we left his high-rise, and he purposefully walked on the street side of the sidewalk to buffer me from traffic and danger. Being noticed is one new thing. Being treated like I’m worthy of princess status is stuff reserved for people who don’t look like they can chew off half your face.  

Suffice it to say, no one has really tried to be gallant and good toward me. But this is too nice. Too amazing.  

And still, my natural defense is to remind Ben I am okay independently. I don’t really need him to carry my shit for me. 

“I can chip hard at your chivalry if you let me,” I warn. 

“Ah, see, I’m not letting you. This is a selfish deed.” He loops his other arm through my backpack—but carries it on his chest like a BabyBjörn. “Mine.” He pats my backpack. “Until we reach Duke’s on 10th, then it’s yours again.”  

“Fine.” My lips pinch into a smile. “While you have it accessible, Jolly-Rancher me, Cobalt boy.” After he unzips and digs in its contents, I hold out my hand, and he plops an unwrapped blue Jolly Rancher on my palm. Yes, he unwrapped it for me.  

I pinch the blue candy. “On brand.”  

“It was random,” he smiles.  

“Cobalt blue loves you. Don’t fight it.”  

His smile softens. “Wise words.” He zips my backpack and seems to be lost for a second. I swish the candy back and forth in my mouth, wondering what he’s thinking, but he animates before I do. His hand finds mine, and he tugs me forward through the congested crosswalk. 

The sun hangs a little low, but it’s not even 4 p.m. yet. We’re having an early dinner with his brothers before our 5 p.m. shift at the End of the World.  

I don’t really know what to expect.  

Usually, it’d put me on my toes. Ready to run. But I’m feeling less on the brink of a serious sprint away from Ben’s fam. I’m starting to feel more a part of the fold, and shit like this doesn’t happen to me.  

I almost feel guilty being a girl who gets to have this highly coveted time with the Cobalts. Like it shouldn’t be for me. It should belong to someone else. I hate feeling unworthy of someone’s time, so I’m trying to hush this awful fucking voice that says, you’re not important enough for this, Harriet.  

Ben tucks me closer when we reach the blinking Duke’s on 10th marquee lighting. I wonder if he can tell I’m descending in the hellish pits of my head.  

I’m out, okay.  

Not going back there. You’re a bad bitch. You aren’t insignificant. You matter.  

Pep talk activated, I rock forward into the retro diner. It’s very empty at this weird hour on a Sunday. I easily spot Charlie, Beckett, Eliot, and Tom seated at a long booth near the jukebox and a neon Fizzle soda sign.  

Eliot is the first to flag us over. He literally waves a napkin in the air. “Ahoy!” 

Ben laughs.  

My lips try to mimic Ben’s smile, but quickly, my mouth becomes a flattened line. Why the hell did his brothers leave one side of the booth vacant? Eliot is sitting on a chair at the head of the table. Tom, Beckett, and Charlie are squashed together (in that order). Sure, it’s an extra long booth that can seat three on each side, but still, this arrangement seems suspicious.  

So much for not being on edge. 

“Fisher.” Ben hands me my backpack.  

I hug it like it’s a fucking jetpack and slide into the booth first. “Girls don’t have cooties,” I tell them.  

“No, really?” Charlie widens his eyes in irritation. 

“I’d be hospitalized if they did,” Eliot says, shrugging off his tailored navy-blue suit jacket onto the back of his chair. He’s the only one dressed for cocktail hour.  

Tom has on dark sunglasses, but I can tell my nemesis is staring at me. “You could be the only girl on Earth with cooties.”  

“Thanks for thinking I’m so special, Tommy,” I retort. 

He grimaces. “Ben Pirrip, how sure are we that Harry didn’t infect you?”  

“Cooties don’t exist,” Ben says factually, sliding in beside me. His arm immediately wraps around the booth behind me. “But Beckett thinks romance is a disease.”  

“I’m not afraid yours will rub off on me,” Beckett replies with a small smile at Ben.  

I force myself to release my death-grip on my backpack. “Dude, someone could’ve sat over here,” I say, not even sure which of them I’m talking to. I meant to direct this at Beckett, but he’s fucking intimidating and unfortunately in the center.  

“I can change seats if you want,” Beckett offers.  

It forces me to actually look at him. His yellow-green eyes are invasive, but the rest of him is calm and easygoing. He has corded earbuds hooked around his neck and a black long sleeve The Carraways shirt on, very casual and dressed down.  

“No, it’s fine,” I manage to say. Maybe they just wanted to give me and Ben extra room. It could’ve been a kind gesture. Why the fuck do I immediately think the worst? That they don’t like me so they’re avoiding the possibility of my arm even brushing against theirs.  

That’s so outlandish just thinking it now. And really, it says way worse about them than it does about me.  

I try to relax and pick up a plastic menu.  

“Is she new?” Eliot spies a girl around my age. The brunette pushes out of the noisy kitchen, wearing a teal ’50s waitress dress.  

“Never seen her before,” Tom says disinterestedly. He’s in a slouch with crossed arms and a moody expression. His bassist just quit on him last Friday. I should be nicer to my nemesis. It’s not fun to kick an enemy while they’re down.  

“Me either,” Ben says, “but I haven’t been here as much as you all have.”  

Charlie glances under the table, then stares me down. “Seems like you think we have cooties.”  

I’m sitting cross-legged to avoid playing footsie with Beckett and Charlie. It’s true. “Just offering you space like you gave me, Boy Genius.” 

“Beckett, you want to try?” Eliot is still talking about the new server. “Let’s see your pickup skills in action, brother.” 

“She looks too young for me,” Beckett says.  

“Beckett Joyce is into cougars,” Tom teases.  

“I have nothing against older women,” Eliot adds. “How many have you been with Beckett?” 

“So Harriet,” Beckett says, using this time to deflect toward me. I want to be an ally and help bail him out of a sticky situation.  

Doesn’t mean I’m not breaking out into a sweat.  

“What do your parents do?” he asks. 

I draw my arms out of my pleather jacket. “Mom’s a medical receptionist. Dad’s a trauma surgeon.”  

Charlie frowns. “And you aren’t under his health insurance?”  

It’s a reminder that Beckett just offered to pay for my counseling when he found out I don’t have coverage under my plan.  

“He’s not a bad guy,” I start to defend my dad on instinct. “Just oblivious, I guess.” The topic is abruptly (thankfully) dropped as the new server appears.  

“Hi.” She blushes more at Charlie and fiddles with a notepad. “I’m Agatha.” She points to her nametag.  

Eliot twists in his chair to face her. “Beautiful name.” 

“Thanks. Yeah, my mom was a big Agatha Christie fan. She named me before she passed.” She still locks eyes with Charlie.  

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Eliot says deeply, and I think he might be sincere? Even Ben seems like he’s trying to puzzle this too. 

She shrugs. “It was a long time ago.” She’s waiting for Charlie to react. He’s perusing a menu.  

Beckett whispers in his ear.  

He nods, then glares at me like I’m rudely staring at him when Agatha is the one who’s literally ogling his face.  

I bite down on my Jolly Rancher and force away the urge to flip him off.  

“I can take your drink orders,” Agatha says. “What can I get you?” She’s asking Charlie directly.  

Tom answers first. “Just water. Black bean burger on wheat.”  

Shit, he’s already ordering food? I scan the menu fast. Ben hoists my menu higher to read with me. He must see my finger descending the prices because he whispers, “I’m paying for you. With my bar tips.” 

“Keep those, Friend,” I whisper back.  

“I’m paying,” Beckett tells us, popping our heads up from the menu. “The whole dinner is on me.” 

“You can’t say no, brother,” Eliot says to Ben. “We’re all accepting his generosity.” 

“Okay.” Ben nods. “Yeah, thanks, Beck.” 

Beckett nods back, then tells Agatha, “Cheeseburger and fries. Water for the table.” 

She scribbles in her notepad. “And you?” she asks Charlie.   

He tucks his menu behind the ketchup bottles. “Chicken noodle soup.”  

Eliot cocks his head at that order. Must be a rare one for Charlie. 

“It’s really good,” Agatha says.  

Eliot smiles sweetly at her. “If you say so, I’m sure it is.”  

Her cheeks go rosy now. I guess she isn’t immune to Eliot Cobalt’s advances. Guy doesn’t look like he gives up easily. “For you?” she asks.  

“Garden salad with grilled chicken and your number.”  

She smiles bigger, scribbling, then she turns to Ben. 

“Fisher?” Ben asks.  

Will Ben kiss me if I eat bacon? Unproven. I don’t even want to risk it. Not that I’m craving pork. I read the first thing my eyes land on. “Patty melt.”  

It’s only when Ben orders a veggie melt, no cheese, no butter, and to cook on a clean pan, that I realize there’s corned beef and sauerkraut on my sandwich.  

Gross. I hate sauerkraut. And I highly doubt Ben will want to kiss a corned beef tasting mouth.  

Fuck.  

I don’t want to be difficult and reorder. Especially when Beckett is paying for me. I’ll suck it up. I wonder if my toothbrush is still in my backpack.  

Right as I go to check, Agatha beelines for the kitchen, and Eliot asks Charlie, “Chicken noodle soup? Under the weather, brother?” 

“I’m sick of this conversation.”  

“We’re not even ten minutes in, dude,” Tom says.  

“Weak immune system,” Eliot quips. “There are remedies for that, Charlie.” 

“Stop trying to cure me,” Charlie deadpans. “So Harriet…”  

I flinch.  

The way he repeats Beckett—but with bitter emphasis—makes me think this isn’t just a friendly dinner. Especially as Tom picks himself out of a slouch and even Eliot sets his eyes on me. I skim my extra space, and I suddenly think, am I about to be interrogated?  

I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m just, sort of, with their brother. Like officially but also unofficially.  

“So Eliot,” I decide to deflect.  

“Listening,” he grins.  

“What’s up with the garden salad?” I ask the first innocent thing I can think of.  

“You have something against rabbits?” Eliot asks. 

“Harry might be a rabbit murderer,” Tom says. “We know she kills mice.” 

“In the name of science, dude,” I retort, then glance up worriedly at Ben. He has a soft smile on me, but I tell him anyway, “I’ve never killed a rabbit.” 

“I know, I know,” he consoles warmly, quickly, his fingers brushing against my arm.  

Then I glare at Tom. Fuck being nice to him. “Fuck you, Thomas.” 

“Not even a flesh wound.” 

I flip him off, then tell Eliot. “Are you a big rabbit?” 

“Could be. I haven’t seen Donnie Darko in a while. That very well could’ve been me. Right, Tom?” 

“Definitely your height.”  

“You grew up in Pittsburgh?” Beckett asks me, jerking me away from Tom and Eliot’s banter.  

“Yeah. I wasn’t poor or anything.” I have no clue why I add that, and I find myself scowling at him. “I can pay for my own meal.” I’m doubling down.  

“If you want, you can pay for yours, but I would like to pay for everyone,” Beckett tells me.  

I nod slowly in acceptance. I wish it wasn’t so hard for me. “Generous.” 

“Sometimes.” 

I try to ease into Ben’s side.  

His arm slides more around my shoulders. “Whose plan was it to grill my girlfriend today?” His girlfriend. I almost elevate out of the fucking booth.  

I jump into the convo. “So this is a master Cobalt plan?” 

“My plan.” Eliot puts a hand to his chest. “I take partial credit. Half goes to Tom.” 

Tom points at me with a butter knife. “Be grateful, Harry, that they vetoed the best part of the plan.” 

“What was that?” I ask. “To kick you out?” 

Beckett laughs.  

Tom glares at me. I point at Beckett who laughed, but Tom is either oblivious or does not care. He just says, “To hook you up to a lie detector.” 

“That was a good option,” Eliot muses.  

“Thank you.” Tom leans back triumphantly. “It could still be enacted—” 

“No,” Ben and Beckett say at the same time.  

Tom gapes. “We’re going way too soft on her.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” I cut in. “Put me on a hot seat. No offense, but there’s nothing that you could do that’d rattle me by now. I rattled myself enough at the escape room.”  

Ben puts a caring hand to the back of my head, then to my neck. 

“When you offered to blow me,” Charlie says like a dick.  

“Charlie,” Ben warns, taking his hands off me.  

“I’m stating the facts.” 

“Which you didn’t have to fucking do,” Ben retorts.  

“Correct,” Charlie says. “I did it because I knew it’d piss you off. Look how easily you gave me what I want.” He slow-claps.  

“Ignore him,” Eliot tells Ben.  

Beckett stares at Charlie for a long, long, long second. It silences the table. Except for Tom who’s groaning about being hungry.  

Charlie stares up at the Fizzle neon sign, as though he’s been told to ignore Ben.  

“We’re just trying to get to know you more, Harriet,” Beckett interjects, redirecting the conversation well. “Have you always wanted to be a doctor?” They begin asking these general questions about my life, ones that Ben already knows the answers to, and they’re softballs at first. Easy for me to answer. 

By the time our food is served, the questions become more Ben-centric. “Would you drop out of college for our brother?” Eliot asks.  

“In what instance?” I wonder, scraping off all the sauerkraut with a knife. 

“None,” Ben interjects. “I wouldn’t want you to drop out for me in any instance, Fisher.”  

“I wouldn’t risk my education for anyone, but if you were dyin—” 

“No.” It’s a firm, serious no.  

Charlie looks like he wants to puke up his chicken noodle soup. Maybe he is really ill.  

“You okay, dude?” I wonder.  

“Pay attention to someone else, Girl Genius.”  

“Sorry, you’re right in front of me,” I deadpan. “Hard to look elsewhere.” 

“Beckett is right in front of you, but you’re scared of him—” 

“I’m not scared of Beckett,” I cut in, trying to eye him for longer than two seconds.  

He’s eating a burger with two bare hands. Out of all them, I thought he’d be the garden salad eater, but he’s putting away the fries too.  

Eliot asks, “Would you let our brother drown in a Jack and Rose Titanic scenario?”  

This one makes my lips quirk. Even Ben is smiling down at me. We’d just been discussing icebergs earlier today. 

Ben asks, “You going to save me from hypothermia, Friend?”   

“I’d scooch over. There’s definitely enough room on the door for the two of us.” 

“I could tip you over.” 

“You won’t.” 

“I might.” 

“Ben, you’re seriously not allowed to pull a Jack. You have to try to get on the door.”  

“Dude, save yourself,” Tom says. “Push Harry off.”  

Ben laughs like it’s absurd. “No. Absolutely fucking not.” He leans back and asks Tom, “You would really claim the door all to yourself and let your boyfriend drown?” 

“What boyfriend?” Charlie cuts in.  

“Thank you, Charlie Keating, for reminding the table that I am beautifully single," Tom says. "And I would save myself before any hypothetical boyfriend.” 

“Cold, Tommy,” I say.  

“Survival of the fittest.” 

“I’ll tell that to your boyfriend when I meet him.” 

“Great. Perfect. Remind him I come first always.” 

“You are single?” Beckett asks to be sure.  

“Yes, ugh,” Tom groans, then takes off his sunglasses, just to rub his eye. He winces, forgetting that his eye is a deep, deep purple now. The swelling has gone down, but the bruise looks gnarly.  

Seeing the black-eye, Eliot looks murderous. Like he’s lost his appetite and would like to go strangle Warner, Tom’s bassist, who threw a microphone at him. 

“You should protect yourself more,” Beckett suddenly advises to Ben. “Even if just a little bit, Pip.”  

“I protect myself enough, Beck,” Ben says. “And it’s just a hypothetical scenario. It’s not real.” 

“It’s real enough.” 

I agree that Ben needs to look out for himself more, but these self-sacrificing acts are so much of who he is.  

It’s so much of the person I’ve fallen for.  

“Next question.” Eliot stabs his salad. “Have you ever been filmed doing illicit activities?” He mimes a blow job.  

“Eliot, man,” Ben says.  

“For legal purposes,” Eliot adds. “I give you full right to ask my future betrothed the same question. But chances are, I’ve already asked.”  

“That’s funny you think anyone will marry you,” Charlie says.  

“I live to amuse,” Eliot says. “Harriet?” 

My face is on fire. “Not that…I’m aware…of.” I am avoiding Beckett who seems too interested in this.  

All the questions that might ruin their family, he’s been more focused on, I think.  

I shrug. “If someone did film me, I’d guess it’s already out there.”  

“It’d be without your consent?” Ben asks, his eyes flaming at this possible scenario.  

“I’ve never consented, so yeah, but I would think I’d know by now if someone did film me.”   

His muscles untense a little.  

“Any dead bodies you’ve buried?” Eliot grins.  

“None.” 

“Any living bodies?” 

“Nope.” 

“Kinks and fetishes?” 

“Okay, okay, too far,” Ben says, then smiles seeing Eliot’s grin. “I don’t want to ask your future betrothed about her fucking fetishes, so let’s stop here.” 

“Only for you, I will retreat.”  

Beckett wipes his greasy fingers on a napkin. 

“I would’ve thought…” I say out loud, but stop myself from saying internal thoughts that should remain just that. Internal.

“Pardon?” Beckett asks me, genuinely confused.  

“Nothing,” I mutter.  

“He doesn’t bite,” Ben says, finding it amusing that I am so fucking intimidated by his older brother.  

“It was rude,” I tell Ben. “I’m trying not to be a rude bitch.” 

“Just say it,” Beckett says like it’s nothing.  

“I would’ve thought you’d eat something less messy and healthier.” 

“I love burgers. Hate the mess. Which is why I’m about to go to the bathroom.”  

Tom edges out of the side so Beckett stands. Before he pries himself away, Beckett says to me, “Oh, and I pay more attention to what I eat before I get onstage. Afterward or days off, I eat whatever I want.”  

He didn’t have to tell me that.  

Warmth returns, feeling more accepted, even as he leaves.  

Back to my plate, I stare long and hard at the corned beef. My stomach grumbles, revolting against my desire to chuck this in the trash. 

“You want half?” Ben offers a triangle of his veggie melt.  

Yes. “I can just order something to-go.” 

He puts half his sandwich on my plate. “I’ll order another one to take to the bar. Eat now. I can hear your stomach.” 

My body is really doing the work that my brain should be. I remind myself to speak up more. That it’s okay to be difficult.  

Maybe I’m not even that difficult.  

Maybe this shit is normal.  

It’s just never been mine.  

I hope it can be.  

We're so excited to be back in Harriet's POV for this bonus! This was a highly requested scene from Burn Bright. We hope you all enjoyed it! The Cobalt brothers dynamic is just too fun to write and adding in Harriet is always a delight. 💗

That's it for all the promised content in January! We'll be back next month with more content and podcasts. The Fizz Hangout is still coming tonight -- so stay tuned!! As always, thank you so much for being a patron. We're so happy you all love these characters enough to want all the extras!

xoxo Krista & Becca

 “Grilled at Dukes on 10th," Copyright © 2026 by K.B. Ritchie