He’s leaning against the frame, his arms crossed and eyes pinned on me.
I know what he’s thinking without saying a word.
It bothers him that I wasn’t the one who told him who my father is. I let him find out from someone else instead.
After everything he’s done to help me since I arrived in Rixton, I couldn’t tell him the one secret that had the most to do with him.
He’s never let me feel alone since I got here. He’s looked out for me, protected me without ever being asked, and I still chose to keep him at a distance.
“I need to take a shower,” I blurt out.
Cooper studies me for a long moment. His jaw is tight, and his expression unreadable. I brace myself for him to saysomething, to ask me if I’m running or to tell me how much I’ve hurt him.
Instead, he nods once. “Okay.”
That’s it. His patience and understanding almost undo me.
I grab my bag from where I dropped it near the door earlier before my shift. I got the call from Broken Saddle as I was pulling out of the athletics parking lot.
I didn’t want to stay at the farm tonight. I didn’t want to walk into that place with everything I felt like I was holding back, so I stopped there, threw my things in my bag, and left it here before clocking in.
Without another word, I disappear into the bathroom before I can change my mind. Before I can crumble. Turning the water on hot, I step under the spray without waiting for it to warm, letting the cold water bite into my skin like I deserve it.
I scrub harder than necessary, letting the sound of the water drown out my thoughts. My father’s voice replays in my head. The photos of his wife and two sons sitting proudly on his desk. The way Cooper looked at me earlier, after he asked me why I never told him my father is his coach.
The disappointment on his face still makes my chest ache.
I lean my forehead against the tile and breathe.
You can handle this, Brinley. You’ve handled far worse.
When I shut the water off, my skin is flushed, and my hands are shaking. I wrap myself in a towel and stare at my reflection. My eyes are a little red. My mouth is set, like it always is when I’m trying not to feel too much.
I don’t bother getting dressed.
I open the bathroom door and step into the living room, towel wrapped tightly around my chest.
Cooper sits on the edge of the love seat, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the floor. He glances up when he hears me, and something flickers across his face.
Like he knows exactly what I’m doing.
“Feelin’ better?” he asks.
“A little bit,” I say. It’s not a lie.
I stand there awkwardly for a second, suddenly hyperaware of how close we are. How quiet the space is. How loaded the air between us feels.
“I’m not trying to—” I start, then stop. I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to stay.”
“I want to.” He nods, his gaze staying pinned on me.
I break the contact, though, unable to meet his eyes.
This is the part I hate. When I can’t pretend anymore. When I have to sit in the wreckage of what I learned today, and the disappointment I feel radiating off the man I’m starting to develop feelings for.
I used the shower to delay this, but I can’t hide forever.
Cooper is still here.
