I spun, looking for a way past them, but they swarmed me, blocking my path.Oh god, I’d never get to leave. I’d be trapped here, at the mercy of their prying questions. I stumbled back, clutching my side.
An engine rumbled, cutting off the reporters’ questions. Like a mirage, Coop shot through the parking lot on a motorcycle, forcing reporters to jump out of his way. He slid to a stop right in front of me and flicked back the shield on his helmet.
“Get on.”
It took only a moment for my brain to unfreeze before I ran and jumped on the back of his bike, clutching the helmet he tossed me. He revved the engine and turned us around. Over the noise I could see, rather than hear, the reporters, openmouthed and shouting as we gunned away.
We took off out of the parking lot in a burst of speed, winding through the streets, passing cafés where I used to study, bar patios where we used to drink buckets of beer, tree-lined streets I’d walked a million times. We passed East House, where it began, then Bishop Hall, where it ended, zooming past the Founder’s Arch in a blur. Then we were really off, away from town, the streets growing less busy, wider and more rural. The wind whipped my hair and iced my skin, but I didn’t care. We’d escaped.
After ten minutes driving through farmland, Coop slowed the motorcycle and pulled off near a grove of trees. Winston-Salem had started to turn brilliant-hued during the days I’d been in the hospital. The trees Coop parked in front of drooped with russet and burnt-orange-tinged leaves.
He rested the motorcycle on the kickstand, swung a long leg over it, and tugged off his helmet, letting his dark hair spring loose. I did the same, my stomach hollowing. Despite the cool air, sweat gathered at my neckline. What would he say? Where would I start?
Coop dropped his helmet on the ground and walked toward the trees, footsteps crunching. I followed. When he finally stopped, turning to face me, his back against a tree trunk, I felt every inch between us.
He pushed his hair off his face. “No more handcuffs.”
“I heard I have you to thank.”
“Remember in college when you told me I’d never be a lawyer because I was too much of a criminal? Should we take a few moments to soak in the irony?”
I crossed my arms. “Your humor is impeccably timed, as always.”
“I’m partial to it.”
“You have a motorcycle again.”
He shrugged. “Rented it. I don’t know, being back here makes me nostalgic.” He looked up when I wasn’t expecting it, and I was caught off guard by the brightness of his eyes. “Seriously, though. How are you? I heard Coldwell dropped you.”
“I’m okay.” I stepped forward and reached for the place on his chest where Mint slashed him, but stopped before I touched him. “You?”
Coop put his hand over mine and pressed them both to his chest. His shirt was cold against my fingers. “Just a scratch.”
I withdrew my hand. I had to ask, even if some part of me was afraid of the answer. “What’s happening with Caro?”
I knew what was coming:We made up, and she’s back at the hotel, waiting for me to say goodbye.Or:I threw myself at her mercy, and she forgave me.Or:She’s home in Greenville, planning our wedding, and I’m just wrapping up loose ends.
I closed my eyes.
“You heard her. She wants nothing to do with the East House Seven for the rest of her life. She left for her parents’ house straight from the hospital.”
I opened my eyes in surprise. “I know she hates us—but you?”
Coop’s eyes told me the answer before he pressed his hands to his face. “I really fucked up.”
“No, you didn’t.” I stepped closer. “I’m the one who ruined everything with what I said in Blackwell. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It was selfish. I’ll talk to her, I promise. I’ll tell her it’s one-sided. You can tell her, too.”
Coop dropped his hands. “I did talk to her.”
A chill breeze picked up, lifting my hair. I wrapped my arms over my chest. “But then…do you still need me to fix it?”
For some reason, this made Coop angry. He stepped away from the tree, putting distance between us. “You know, just because you were a martyr for Eric doesn’t mean I think you’re some big hero now.”
My mouth dropped open. “I never said that. I’m not.”
“You’re damn right, you’re not.” Coop paced, then stopped. He stared me down. “I’ve known you since we were eighteen years old. Watched you closer than anyone. Do you want to know what I think?”
I was shaking my head, but he kept going.
