“Are they requiring you to go?”
He shook his head. “No, I consented.”
“That was very brave.”
“Was it?” A mirthless smile wavered on his cheeks. “Then why do I feel like a coward?”
Oh, my heart. I wanted to fold Cooper into a hug. “Maybe because the world says big strong guys like you shouldn’t need help. And it’s shameful when you do. But those are lies. You know that.”
Cooper reached up to swipe a curl off his forehead, and in that split second I glanced at his arm again.
There were pock marks—scars in varying degrees of color. So many that the edges blurred together, giving the appearance of one large scar spanning the entire inside of his arm. Courage I didn’t know I possessed traveled into my hand as I reached out and gently touched Cooper’s wrist. “What is that?”
He huffed in annoyance but showed me his arm without hesitation. “Cigarette burns.”
“Did you do this?”
“Most of them.”
Most?
My stomach clenched. “That looks painful.”
“Nah. Not really.” He tucked his arm away, signaling that he didn’t want to answer questions.
For a little while, we talked about reading. More about birds. He lita cigarette and told me about the rehab center and what would be required of him there. We talked about the ranch. Then he asked me about my family—what it was like growing up with so many siblings and parents.
I considered giving him the basics, skirting around the deep stuff.
But I didn’t. I practiced.
I showed him my nails and even told him about Kayleigh’s baby.
And before I knew it, an entire two hours had flown by. The girls had helped themselves to snacks in the kitchen and had constructed a barbie house out of towels, porch furniture, and gravel.
Hating to leave him alone, I lingered as long as I could. But around four o’clock he whispered, “I need to go pack my bags. I have to leave tomorrow.”
“Will you be at breakfast?”
He shook his head. “We aren’t leaving until eight, but I probably won’t bother getting up.” He looked at me, flashing me a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
He pointed to where my book sat on the swing. “You don’t mind if I borrow it?”
My eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Not at all!”
“I’m just going to read the last page.”
I laughed. “Don’t youdare.”
He reached down to grab it and flipped the pages through his thumb, grinning genuinely this time. “If rehab sucks enough, maybe I’ll read it.”
“Then I’ll cross my fingers that it sucks.”
He huffed a laugh as we held a beat of eye contact. I wasn’t sure why Cooper let me be his friend, but I was grateful. I wished I knew how to be his friend over the miles.
“Can I hug you goodbye? I might not catch you again before you leave.”
