Chapter 19 Cooper
Cooper
The low thrum of the motorbike vibrated beneath me, a steady drawl against my restless mind.
The streets blurred past in streaks of shadows as I raced home, desperate for the comfort of my own space, yet tangled in the vortex of thoughts I couldn’t organise.
Seb and I would be fine, we always were, but it didn’t mean his assumptions hurt any less.
I cared more about him and Eva than I did anyone.
They were my family, but to have them voice my deepest insecurities – the things I hated the most about myself – hurt my fucking soul.
And irrespective of that, I was still no closer to understanding how I felt or knowing what I would do or say to Evangeline.
Part of me felt it was a waste of time when my thoughts were so unclear, so confused.
Another part was annoyed I’d said anything to Seb when I wasn’t more certain of how I felt and what it meant.
But now, with my best mate thinking as little of me as my parents did, it was fucking depressing to realise the only person fighting for you in this world, was yourself.
When I saw Eva’s little hatchback parked in the driveway, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, despite not being remotely worthy of someone as good as her.
I just needed to feel her presence. To know she was close by, and it would calm my racing heart.
She would likely be asleep given how late it was, but the fact that she was behind the other wall was enough to dilute my emotions without hitting the bottle or worse, the Cellar.
The house was dark, and I tried to stay as quiet as possible as I headed up the hallway, pausing as I passed her closed door.
I felt a flush of shame thinking about how I’d stroked myself in her bedroom when she wasn’t home, an impulse I couldn’t explain or resist. I should have fought to push the need away, but I was powerless, left craving more.
Did she know I’d been in there or wonder where her sleep shirt had gone? What would she think if she knew?
Just as I was about to head to my own room and suppress the answered questions, a broken, stuttered inhale of air held me in place.
Was she crying?
I pressed myself to the door and heard another sharp and unsteady breath, before it turned into a louder sob.
My own breath caught in my throat.
What the fuck? Why was she crying?
Did something happen at dinner? Did my parents fucking do something? Did Sebastian call and tell her what I said, warning her away from me?
Should I go in? Explain myself?
So many fucking questions.
I faltered, desperate to give her privacy but more desperate to comfort and soothe her.
“Thanks, Xavier,” she said just as I was reaching for the door handle, and all of the blood left my face.
Who the fuck was Xavier?
“I love you and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” Her voice barely audible through the wood yet deafening all the same.
Did she have a boyfriend? Someone she fucking loved?
This whole time I’d been thinking about her, wondering if she felt it too, and I’d never even considered she was seeing someone.
Hadn’t even thought to ask, too blinded by everything she was.
But why wouldn’t she? She was a fucking knock out – beautiful, smart and kind – of course she had a boyfriend.
And his name was Xavier. I hated him already.
A cold rush of ice water flooded my system, my beating heart as rapid as a countdown. It didn’t matter that I liked her, that she was everything I never knew I needed or that she’d kissed me back.
Oh, fuck.
Maybe I was the reason she was crying. Had I forced her to kiss me back? To betray her partner and now she was living with that guilt. I was a selfish piece of shit.
This whole time she belonged to someone else.
She loved someone else.
And it was with a hard dose of nausea-inducing reality I walked back the way I came. I couldn’t listen to her tell someone else she loved them again, not after I’d already been reminded how worthless I was and how I was never going to be good enough for her.
A fucking boyfriend. I couldn’t believe it.
There was no chance I was going to be able to fucking sleep anytime soon now. And staying here would only lead me to the bottom of a bottle.
COOPER
Anything going?
Marcus’ reply bounced through before I’d even put my helmet on. An affirmation I knew would follow because I never approached him for a fight unless I was in a dark place. And the darkness brought with it a fury which led to money in his pocket.
Win fucking win.
Drying my face, I winced at what I knew was going to be a visible reminder of the brutal contest last night.
This time, there would be no disguising the evidence of my unchecked focus.
A rare fucking moment of distraction which came from spotting Sebastian among the crowd of the boozed and filthy punters desperate to win some money or watch savagery in the flesh.
He’d been discreet, but after our argument earlier where he told me he knew about the place, I was on alert.
When I finally got to him after the match, he admitted he often followed me down here when calls went unanswered but never approached.
It was also apparent Marcus knew who he was and hadn’t ever bothered to tell me - fucking prick.
But actually seeing him there had come with such shock, my focus slipped long enough for my opponent to catch me on the chin and then the eyebrow.
Seb’s regular mask was firmly affixed as he watched, only a shadow of concern behind his eyes reminding me of another Micallef who utilised that practised expression.
And that came with a bucket load of reminders I wasn’t in the space to navigate.
With a dose of chin jarring reality, I finished the fight not long after, making my challenger regret the couple of shots he landed.
Marcus was thrilled and the crowd went ballistic when he fell to the floor – the fight reflecting the reputation I’d earned.
It wasn’t a good one, but it was mine. Something I’d created through years of entering the fire without a care for the burn.
I was fast and accurate, two things you wanted when fighting, but more than that, I was undefeated.
And when the ferocious mist of pain was coating my mind, there was no limit to the savagery I could bestow.
In the dirty world of illegal fighting, I was a wanted man and Marcus fucking ate that shit up.
I walked away with a wad full of cash I didn’t need and another line next to my name, while he had a list a mile long of wannabes who wished to be the first person to take me down.
Only, unlike them, I didn’t fight for glory.
I’d won the fight, but there were times when I saw the look of excitement in my competitor.
Like tonight. For a split second, he’d had a chance and only my experience had bested him. He was young and quick and climbing through the ranks of a no rules slaughterhouse by eliciting bruises and broken bones. Most of which I tended to avoid, but for how long.
It was a compulsion I’d collected as a lonely teenager from someone who knew my father and thus my emotionally unhinged alter ego was born.
My father didn’t know I fought, he probably wouldn’t have cared either way, but when his business associate offered me a heap of coin and told me it was something my parents could never know, at nineteen it was the act of rebellion I was seeking.
They didn’t notice me anyway, but knowing I could do something they would hate was too exciting to refuse.
Only that was fifteen years ago, and I hadn’t stopped.
Slowed down – yes – but never stopped.
At the beginning of each new year, I told myself I was done.
That I would find a healthier coping mechanism to manage my unresolved anger.
Or maybe I’d finally just tell my parents to fuck off and be done with it.
That never lasted though and soon enough I was reminded of how little they thought of me, and before long I’d be back in the ring creating a new foe.
All it took was an argument with them and I fought.
I was weak, I knew this, but it was the one thing that could simmer my anger.
Only last night, I’d fought for a different reason.
There was someone else who apparently had the same hold on me, who impacted me enough to erode my resolve.
Realising Evangeline had a boyfriend, that there was someone out there who could touch her for real, was enough to send a fresh wave of heat through me and tipped me over the edge.
And having Sebastian bear witness to the person I became when in that mindset, didn’t make me feel any better.
He’d disappeared by the time I returned from out back after I’d grabbed my stuff, sending me a message to accompany the voicemail I’d missed, but I hadn’t replied.
What was there to say? Maybe too much to say…
The life story of Cooper Dane consisted of those around me worrying I’d fuck everything up. After eight years, my parents still openly doubted my ability to run the distillery and now my best mate doubted my intentions with his sister.
It was a knock that startled me out of my pity party, and I wrapped my towel around my waist, reefing open the bedroom door.
Those clear eyes which haunted the two hours of sleep I was able to muster, slid down my body and I clenched my jaw both in frustration and to stop myself from reaching for her.
Her pupils sparkled in a way that said she liked what she saw.
That she’d forgotten she wasn’t single. The unmasked desire she wore like a sucker punch, winding me worse than the couple of hits I took last night.
I itched to pull her into me and breathe her in.
Itched to demand answers for why she kissed me back, but only once I had my fingers buried deep inside her and it was my name falling from that mouth.
“Umm, sorry, I thought you’d slept in. I can meet you at work if you want?
” She stared at my face, her eyes narrowed in on my eyebrow.
I should apologise and tell her to go ahead without me, keep my distance and maintain professional boundaries from here on out to protect both her and me.
Although, I always was a sucker for fucking punishment.
“I’ll be out in five,” I mumbled dismissively, catching the shadow of shock across her before I closed the door, the apology I should have offered, left unsaid.