“Why didn’t you let me give you a ride home?”
I flinch, my heart jumping straight into my throat.
I look up.
Cooper stands in front of me, his backpack over one shoulder. He’s wearing his Rixton U hockey jersey. His jaw is tight in a way I’ve learned he does when he’s been holding something in that’s on his mind. His hair is damp, eyes fixed intently on me. Not accusing, just curious.
“I overheard you on the phone and knew you had some things to take care of.”
“I didn’t realize you could hear me. It wasn’t a big deal,” he says. “I was talking with my dad.”
I figured it was someone in his family when he mentioned chores. Still, it doesn’t do much to ease the tight knot in my chest.
“I came by your place yesterday,” he adds. “I was hoping we could talk.”
I blink, scrambling to shut my laptop. His brows furrow.
“We must’ve missed each other. I was out for a bit. Errands, that sort of thing.”
It’s all technically true. I did go out and run a couple of errands. Mostly to grab a few groceries and other essentials to get me through the week with the tips I made recently.
“I’m sorry, though,” I say softly. “For everything. And… I’m okay. Really, I am.”
He exhales heavily, his nostrils flaring as he studies me.
“Brinley,” he says, lowering his voice. “You don’t look okay.”
I flinch.What’s that supposed to mean?
“Well, I am,” I insist. “Listen, what happened the other night freaked me out, yes, but nothing has happened since. I’m fine.”
I sound rehearsed even to myself.
He drags his hand through his hair, his jaw clenching like he’s biting back something sharp. He doesn’t believe me, not even a little.
“I don’t like you being alone there.”
My stomach drops.
“What?”
“I came over to tell you I want you to stay at my family’s place,” he says, the words coming out faster, like he’s committed to getting this out before I run. “We have an apartment above our barn. It’s safe there. We have cameras on the property. My parents will be there. You wouldn’t be—”
“No.”
The word comes out loud, and I notice a few heads turn to look at us. I don’t care, though.
I stand abruptly, shoving my laptop and notebooks into my bag. Heat floods my neck and chest now. “Absolutely not.”
“Brinley—”
“I don’t need to be saved, Cooper,” I snap, the edge in my voice surprising even me. “And I don’t need you to swoop in every time something goes wrong, trying to be the hero.”
That stops him. The look on his face shifts. It’s not anger or pride.
It’s hurt.
“Listen, I appreciate what you’ve done for me,” I continue, my voice coming out shaky now despite my best efforts to stay calm. “I really do, and I meant it in my note too. But this”—I gesture back and forth between us—“this isn’t okay. You don’t get to come in here and try to take control.”
