Chapter 32
AMARA
The place is quiet. Too quiet.
So quiet, in fact, that I can hear Cooper slamming his head into his pillow in his bedroom.
Over and over and over again.
So quiet that I can hear Fluffernutter’s little toenails prancing across the living room floor.
At first, I let Cooper be. Maybe dudes have meltdowns like we do? I mean, the number of times I’ve shoved my head into a pillow and screamed is astronomical. He’s having a diva moment. I’ll let him be.
But then he doesn’t come out for dinner, and I become concerned.
I bring Fluffernutter with me, just in case.
In retrospect, I probably should have knocked on the door. But the relief I feel when I see him sprawled out on his stomach, his pants very much still on, is enough to keep me afloat for at least the next month, knowing the universe loves me very much.
“Thank god, I was a little worried you’d be jacking off in here with all that moaning and groaning.”
Cooper glances in my direction with a glare. “If I could grip my dick, I’d be doing just that.”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that response.
“Uh, well, okay then.” I set my cat on his bed before taking a seat next to his arm. “What’s wrong, Coop?” I ask softly.
He picks up his head, and I’m about to say something else before he slams his face back down into his pillow with a force greater than gravity.
“I-o-fr-s-ks,” he mumbles.
I bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing. “Come again?”
“I. Am. Out. For. Six. Weeks,” he grunts rather bitchily.
“Why are you out for six weeks?” I’m assuming football, considering he just got home from their away game in Denver this morning.
He lifts his right hand. His pinky and ring finger are taped together.
“Well, that doesn’t look great. What happened?”
“I got pushed, and my hand got caught under me as I went. Got a phalanx fracture. I was going to just have them bandage it, but apparently, I’d be back to playing faster if I get surgery.”
My heart hurts for him. I know how important all of this has been for him, and the pain in his voice is palpable.
“When’s your surgery?” I ask quietly.
“Tomorrow.”
“Well, it’s good that it’s so soon, right? You’ll get back to playing even quicker?”
He grunts.
Fluffernutter settles between his legs for a second, but when he sniffs him, he shoots off the bed like a bat out of hell.
It’s only then that I bend down, sniffing too. “Hey Coop, why do you smell like actual ass?”
This gets the biggest reaction of them all. With a loud groan, Cooper rolls over onto his back with a scowl.
“I can’t figure out how to shower with this,” he mumbles.
I look toward his bathroom. “You just, I don’t know, get into the shower? Turn it on with one hand?”
“How do I wash my hair?”
I think about it for a second. “Squeeze your shampoo on your head and then rub it in?”
The scowl only intensifies.
“Cooper, you are a professional athlete, and you’re telling me you can’t shower with one hand?”
His face distorts, and he starts mocking me. “Are you telling me that you’ve never accidentally used a hand you’re not supposed to because it’s just second nature, and then you’re absolutely fucked?”
“I’ve never had to.”
He pouts.
With an eyeroll, I massage the bridge of my nose, thinking. “Okay. Let’s get you bathed.” I stand up, offering him my hand.
This is probably going to be the worst decision of my life.
“What?” he asks, staring at it.
“You need a bath. You smell like shit. So I’m helping you bathe.”
“Baths are kinda gross,” he whispers.
“Yeah, well. I’m not helping you in the shower, so you’re going to have to be okay with being human soup for a little bit.”
The man shivers.
I leave him there and head to the bathroom, turning on the faucet of the huge tub and adjusting the heat.
Then, I head back to my room, grabbing the bubble bath I bought just for while I live here.
I, unlike Cooper, love baths, and the second I saw the grand bathtub in my private bathroom, I knew it was going to be the one great thing about this place.
Adding bubble bath to the tub, I wait for it to get extra bubbly before looking out the door. He’s still right where I left him, watching me curiously.
“Are you coming?” I ask impatiently.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because this feels like a fantasy from my teenage years. I feel like maybe I actually died back on the field.”
I groan, throwing my hands up. “You’re not dumbass. Now let’s go and stop being difficult. I don’t want this any more than you do.”
“I think you’re severely underestimating how much I want this,” he adds as he gets up, an extra pep in his step.
He passes me into the bathroom, and I notice something. “Cooper, where are your curtains?”
“Curtains?”
“Yeah. Bathroom curtains.”
My room did not come with them, but I bought a privacy covering and hired someone to install it with Cooper’s credit card. I’m not quite sure if he knows about that, but what he does not know will not hurt him.
“No one can see in here. Why would I have them?”
I look around, knowing he cannot be serious. “I’ve heard you in here on multiple occasions modeling outfits for Leo.”
The smile that graces this man’s face is otherworldly. “Oh yeah,” he says with a chuckle. “I mean, Leo can technically see in here, but no one else can.”
“What if Leo just, I don’t know, decides to look while you’re showering?”
The man looks confused once again. “The guys see me naked almost every single day. Like, butt ass naked in the showers. I feel like I have to explain this all the time, and I’m not sure why.”
I mean, I guess the explanation passes.
I regard him with a sigh and turn around. “Get in the tub, please.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. Instead, I hear his clothes hit the ground, and water splashes on the floor as he hops in.
“Fucking hell, why do women insist on bathing in water hotter than Satan’s ballsack?” he mutters, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips.
“Your hand is out of the water, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. Going to need at least one hand that doesn’t have first-degree burns, right?”
I take my place behind his head, thankful that the bubbles leave everything covered. Taking the detachable faucet from his bath off the handle, I make sure his hair is completely soaked before adding shampoo.
It makes me a little jealous, if I’m being honest. My bath doesn’t have one of these, and I can’t think of a better way to end a stressful day than a showerhead-induced orgasm surrounded by bubbles.
I start rubbing the shampoo into his head, my fingertips massaging his scalp, and Cooper moans. It’s not a small one, either. It’s toe-curling. A shiver runs down my spine, and I pause, but when he doesn’t say anything, I continue.
When his hair is clean, I find his body wash and lather his net sponge with it.
This is going to be the hardest part.
I start with his shoulders, scrubbing them until his skin is a little red, then continue down one arm.
His giant, muscular arms that could probably crack me open like a watermelon.
His beautiful arms, one of which is covered in tattoos. I use my fingers for this, not wanting to mess with their healing. I kind of want to ask him why he’s been so impulsive.
The second I’m done, I scoot away. “Well, I think you can get the rest with one hand, alright?” I say with a clap of my hands.
He looks down. “I think so?”
Cooper moves a few inches, his torso breaking the surface.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to his ribs.
He immediately falls back down into the water. “What?”
“The tattoo on your side.”
He looks spooked. “Nothing.”
My eyes narrow. “What are your tattoos, anyway?”
Cooper looks down at his arms, his hair, nearly black when wet, falling into his eyes. “I love the ocean. And we never had a lighthouse, but I wish we did.”
It’s true. Dewey Beach has zero lighthouses, while Rehoboth only has a replica located in the middle of a traffic circle. But even the original isn’t exactly the usual lighthouse you’d see tattooed on someone’s body.
One of the nearest large lighthouses is in Cape May, but that’s an hour and a half away by ferry or an over three-hour drive, and none of the locals are interested in doing that.
“So it’s just a random lighthouse?”
I can see the wheels turning in his brain as he looks at me. “I don’t know, Amara. I just like the symbolism.”
I decide to let it be. “Do you have other tattoos?”
He immediately knows what I’m doing. “Nope.”
Instead of arguing, I bite my tongue. If he doesn’t want to tell me, he doesn’t want to tell me. I’m just going to assume it’s something really stupid that he got while drunk, and he’s super embarrassed about it.
I leave him be, finding a home on his bed with Fluffernutter to make sure he doesn’t need me.
A few minutes later, the door opens, and I’m just grateful he has a towel around his waist.
Looking surprised that I’m still here, Cooper keeps his arm at his side. It’s not until he gets into his closet that I catch a glimpse.
I watch from the bed as he reaches for a new shirt, the tattoos on his arms distracting me for the millionth time, when I see it again.
The dark lettering on his ribcage. Earlier, when he was in the bathtub, I could have sworn it looked familiar.
I just wish he would tell me what it was, instead of trying so hard to hide it.
His shirt is on before I can dissect it further.