His texts have turned from seemingly concerned fiancé when I first disappeared to veiled threats like this one. I don’t know how it took me so long to realize exactly the kind of man Andrew is. His slimy charm was just a thin mask to disguise the bully he really is, and I fell for it like the fool I am.
I let out a soft groan at the fact that I’m going to have to change my number.
Again.
I don’t know how I’m going to convince Charlie and Coop that I forgot to pay my phone bill for the fifth straight month. That’s the excuse I use to explain why I’m constantly changing my number.
Charlie’s been skeptical and asking questions for months. I don’t think Coop even slightly believes me, but he’s willing to let me figure out whatever it is on my own.
I don’t want to tell them that I’m pretty sure Andrew is texting me because I don’t want to heap any more problems onto their plate. And I need to prove to myself that I’m strong enough to handle this myself. I should be able to manage one stuck-up rich boy with a mean streak on my own.
The Lark that needed other people to fight her battles is a thing of the past. Or, at least, I’m trying to make sure she is.
Turning off my phone, I set it aside to deal with later. There’s nothing I can do about it right now. So, I’m going to try to enjoy hanging out with Coop as much as I can.
I’m over at their place because Coop was helping me put frame sliders on. He showed me how to take off and put back every freaking piece of plastic on my bike. Why Kawasaki decided to make accessing the frame so hard, I have no idea.
But I successfully put the sliders on myself—with Coop directing me. I’m still pretty proud of it, even though it probably took twice as long as Coop would’ve on his own.
We’ve just been chatting and hanging out for the past couple of hours as Coop works on his bikes and I sketch. It’s been pretty chill thus far.
Coop decides to make it decidedly less so when he sits up and looks over at me. He wipes his greasy hands on his faded jeans as he says, “So… Charles told me that you’ve been talking to some biker guys.”
“Charlie needs to keep her mouth shut,” I snarl half-heartedly, unable to be truly angry at my best friend.
While Charlie is a vault for some secrets, she’s way too chatty about others, like Hal, Rook, Colt, and Remy. She doesn’t know about Azrael, and I haven’t brought him up. I love her, but sometimes I wish she wouldn’t gossip about my life with Coop.
He huffs a laugh and pushes to his feet. After swiping a forearm over his sweaty forehead, he walks over to me and leans his hip on the workbench. “My sister is a bit of a gossip, but it’s because she cares. So, what’s going on with the guys you met?”
I look away, not able to meet his eyes as I mumble, “Nothing.”
“Mm-hmm. Nothing, huh? That’s why you won’t even tell me their names?”
“There’s nothing to tell, Coop. I bought a bike from their dealership and hung out with them once.” Twice, if I include going to Rook’s secret spot, but there’s no way I’m telling Coop about that.
Coop’s searching gaze pries into me, like he can see all my secrets if he just stares at me long enough. Eventually, he sighs. “Whether it’s with the biker boys or whoever else, you’re allowed to move on, you know? You don’t have to punish yourself by staying single forever.”
“Oh, yeah? And when are you moving on, Coop?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. Coop looks like someone just slapped him, and I hate myself for being such an asshole to him. Hanging my head, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
He gently bumps his shoulder into mine. “’S okay. You’re allowed to be upset and angry and mad. You’re allowed to take it out on me. You’re allowed to scream and rage and say things you regret. But what you’re not allowed to do is freeze yourself in the past and stop living your life. You deserve a hell of a lot more than that, Lark.”
That man has given me far more grace and understanding than I’ve ever deserved. We all know that he’s hurting the most, but he’s still been there for me no matter how much of an absolute doorknob I’ve been.
My mind flashes back to one of the many times I screamed at him, crossed so many lines it’s not even funny, and generally treated him like shit right after it happened.
“Why the fuck didn’t you stop her? Why the fuck didn’t you notice? Why didn’t you do your goddamn job and protect her?” I scream at Coop, my voice rough and scratchy from all the crying I’ve been doing for the past four days.
I somehow feel numb and like I’m shattered inside at the same time. I keep hoping I’ll wake up any minute now, and it’llall have been just a bad dream. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t wake up from this living nightmare.
Instead of matching my anger, Coop slumps his shoulders. “I’m sorry, baby S,” he whispers. I can hear the depth of how truly sorry he is, but his apologies don’t do anything to fix it.
His quiet acceptance of my anger and blame and accusations only infuriates me more. I want him to tear into me. I want him to berate me. I want him to rip me to pieces like I fucking deserve for failing Wren.
Growling, I advance on him until we’re toe to toe. I shove at his shoulders, and he lets me. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? Do you even care? Did you ever care about Wren?” When he doesn’t say anything, I shove at him again. “Fight me, goddamn it. Fight me like you never fought for her.”
Instead of shoving me back or screaming at me that he’s hurting too, Coop just bands his arms around me, crushing me to him. I slam my fists into his chest again and again until the dam finally breaks. Tears stream down my face as I collapse against him. Sobs rack my frame and make it hard to breathe as I crumble into pieces in his arms.
“Shh, baby S. Shh. I’ve got you,” he murmurs over and over into my hair. He holds me as I break apart, as though he can somehow put all the fractured parts of me back together if he squeezes hard enough.
