This—all of it—was self harm. There was just no other way to see it.
This wasn’t a party where things got out of hand.
He was alone.
He was intentional.
Tag disconnected with the dispatcher, his hands cradling Cooper’s head again. “Why did you do this, Coop? Why?”
I could hardly listen to the pain in Tag’s voice. I knew exactly what it felt like to hold someone while they died. And I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. The sound of Tag’s desperation yanked the scab off my old wounds.
He whispered, his voice thready with emotion. “Just hang on, Coop. Hang on—and—and you’re gonna be alright.”
The memories of my own pleadings to Laurel, to hang on and stay with me, seared my brain like an iron. A burning, panicking sensation rippled through my chest as I stifled that nightmare and fought to stayin the moment for Tag.
“You can’t leave us, Laurel. Please stay.”
It felt like an hour before help arrived.
When they pulled into the neighborhood, I jumped down to make space and direct them to the truck bed. Like a swarm of bees, they descended on Cooper—gear ripped out, shots given, into the stretcher faster than I could blink.
Standing past the end of the truck, I watched, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time I ever saw him. Within mere minutes, the ambulance doors were closing on Cooper, Tag, and the paramedics. The sirens wailed as they whipped down the street toward the nearest hospital.
I stood there in the sudden quiet, staring down the street where they had disappeared. All at once, the neighborhood felt suffocating. I took a few, trembling breaths and searched for my phone, which Tag had tossed somewhere in the truck bed.
I ended up finding Cooper’s phone and wallet stuffed inside his boots, which were caked with thick grass clippings.
Wait.
Grass clippings?
My eyes darted to the abandoned mower in the front yard then back to his boots.
Of all the things I saw today, that was the worst.
My chest filled with so much sadness I couldn’t draw a breath. He had tried to mow her yard, hadn’t he? The woman didn’t even have power and water but Cooper was trying to do her a solid and mow her yard. And in return, she was sleeping off a high while he died in her front yard.
With feet like lead, I made my way around the Ranger, scanning the ground for any personal items. I threw trash into the truck bed and then opened the cab door. In the passenger’s seat was a plastic Lowes’ Home Improvement bag with a pack of screws and plumber’s tape and another auto parts bag with two quarts of 10W-30. Cooper never would’ve bought these items for himself.
The idea of Cooper helping out around this hell hole and trying to be a good son made him seem so human, so hungry, that I wanted to throw up. Tag himself said that Cooper had spent his whole life trying to gain something he would never get from his parents.
Love.
I wasn’t one for quick emotions, but the car oil was icing on the whole damn cake. My vision blurred for a moment as I wrestled down my empathy. I didn’t want to imagine what had driven Cooper to this level of reckless self-hatred.
My phone vibrated in my back pocket.
It was Hollie.
Worried something was amiss with Cade, I tapped the notification. A picture of my son filled the screen—he was holding a homemade donut, standing by a pan of frying oil at the big house. His smile was small, timid, but he didn’t look like he was having a panic attack. Actually, far from.
Maybe it was the tension of the last twenty-four hours that caused a tear to slip down my cheek. I sniffed and leaned against the side of the Ranger, tapping out a response.
Me
I needed to see that. Thank you. How is he?
Hollie
