“There’s juice on the counter,” he says, his voice firm. No emotion.
I hurt him.
I know I hurt him.
I didn’t want to. Really. But telling the truth would be admitting that everything I’ve thought of him is crumbling around me.
He’s not a bad guy.
I forgive him, even though I still don’t have a reason.
Cooper used to be my soft spot. The person who sees right through me every time. My safe space. And the more time I spend with him, the more I see it again. The more I feel everything I used to.
I can’t let myself forget the pain I felt. I can’t let him have that power over me again.
Maybe that’s why I stayed away for so long.Because deep down, I knew that I would be a fool for him the second I let him open his mouth and charm me.
I pick up the juice, taking a sip as I watch him toss treats to Fluffernutter. The cat pounces on it, gobbling it up in seconds.
“Your sister texted me this morning,” I tell him quietly.
He barely looks my way. Just a small tip of the chin. “Oh yeah? What did she say?”
“She wanted to see if I could come visit the shop and plan her party.”
“Did she tell you when she needs you there?”
“In the next week.”
“Well, I can’t go. The event is during my bye week. I think she did it on purpose. So we’ll both go to that.”
I nod, hating the way he looks off into the distance as if he can’t bear to look at me.
“I can go myself,” I confirm, but it barely comes out as a whisper.
Cooper turns, concerned. I’m not sure what my face looks like, but the second he lays eyes on me, he stands. “Let me see what’s going on with practice. I’ll come with you. If it’s a Tuesday, we can leave Monday after practice and stay overnight, okay?”
I feel pressure building in my chest. “Cooper, you don’t have to.”
“I do. I want to. My sister and I still own my grandfather’s house. If you’re okay with it, we can stay over there.”
His grandfather owned a decent-sized beach house with multiple rooms. It would be totally fine for us to stay there, though I’m not sure how I'll feel when we arrive. I haven’t returned in well over a decade.
“Okay.”
I don’t want to agree. I was actually kind of hoping to get away by myself. But life has other plans.
“You don’t have practice on Tuesday?” I ask.
He shakes his head as Fluffernutter scales the back of the couch in an attempt to get his attention. “No, the NFL doesn’t usually practice on Tuesdays. It’s basically our one day off.”
I frown. “You guys only get one day off?”
“Well,” he squints at the ceiling in concentration. “I mean, I guess sometimes we get Mondays off, but only if we win. Usually, we have to at least come in for a short meeting unless Coach says otherwise.”
I’ve been around this friend group long enough to know that their coach runs a tight ship, and they don’t normally get very many complete days off when they win.
“Okay, well, I’ll tell production just in case they were going to make us do something.”
