Chapter Fifty-Seven
Cooper
I’ve barely moved in…three days? Could be four. If it wasn’t for my mom threatening to turn the guest room back into my old bedroom if I didn’t at least join them for dinner, I wouldn’t have left at all.
Lying naked under the duvet, my eyes track dust particles drifting through the air. They float lazily in the single sliver of light sneaking through the curtains, before disappearing.
Must be nice…disappearing.
Rolling onto my stomach, I bury my face deeper into the pillow. This isn’t depression. Probably. Hopefully. Shit, I don’t know.
Three days of silence in this hotel room hasn’t helped, all stale and littered with the proof of how little I’ve moved.
Housekeeping tried to come in once, but Lockie scared them off.
He hasn’t said much since, just existed outside the door like a silent guard dog waiting for the moment I stop pretending I’m sleeping.
I think today he might be done waiting.
The lock clicks, and I yank the comforter up and over my head like a child hiding from monsters. Unfortunately, mine is six-foot-six, Scottish, and absolutely over my shit.
“Cooper.” Lockie’s voice is flat, but there’s an edge underneath it I haven’t heard before.
I stay still, willing him to give up. If I stay quiet enough, maybe he’ll go— Curtains rip open, light detonates across the room, and even under the sheet, I feel it burn.
I hiss, curling tighter. “Leave me alone.”
The duvet disappears in one violent yank, taking my safety, dignity, and body heat with it, leaving me with my bare ass out like some sort of offering to the Highland gods.
Eyes narrowing, I peek up at him. “Seriously?”
He crosses his arms, furious jaw ticking in that way that makes me shiver. “Enough. Get up.”
“No,” I grumble, blindly reaching for the nearest pillow. He yanks that away too, and I snap upright, glaring at the giant asshole. “Hey!”
“Shower. Clothes.” He tosses a bundle at me. “Now.”
“Where are we going?” My voice is like gravel from disuse, sleep and shame scraping together.
“For a run.”
There’s a long, horrified silence as I wait for the punchline.
“Absolutely the fuck not.” I fling the workout clothes away, and he smirks like they’re venomous.
But thirty minutes later, I’m pretty sure my soul has left my body. My breath clouds in front of me, each exhale a pathetic gasp that fogs the air. Lockie jogs ahead effortlessly, the perfect picture of an ex-military machine, while I’m actively dying.
“We’re going for a run,” I mock under my breath, mangling his accent. “It’ll do you some good.”
“You good?” he calls out over his shoulder, not even winded. “I can hear you mumpin’ back there.”
“Define…good…” I wheeze.
Lockie loops circles around me, just to rub it in, and I flip him off without slowing. But…and God help me…beneath the misery, something in my chest eases a little. The crisp air, the movement, the distraction. Damn him for being right.
“Fuck,” I groan, clutching a stitch in my side. “How are you not dying?”
“Because I don’t sit on my ass for three days straight,” he says.
I glare. Singing in front of thousands while jumping about the stage? That I can do. Jog a few feet outside the hotel? Apparently impossible. He slows near a bench, and I all but collapse onto it like a corpse thrown from a moving vehicle.
“You ready to talk now?”
I rub my face with shaking hands. “Is that why you dragged me out here? A torture tactic?”
“If it works.”
Heart thudding, I stare down at my sneakers.
“I can’t stop hearing what he said.”
“Declan?” he asks gently, sitting beside me.
“Who else?” I mutter. “He was always this constant in my life. I thought— I don’t know what I thought.
That there’d always be time? That he’d always be there?
” I trail off, shoulders sagging. “I’m such a dumbass.
Why did I think he’d just let me pick up like no time had passed?
He can’t even stand to be in the same vicinity as me. ”
Lockie watches me carefully, elbows resting on his knees. “He might hate Reign. Doesn’t mean he hates Cooper.”
“Feels like the same thing.” I stare at the road ahead, sighing.
“One more block,” Lockie says, pushing to his feet before grabbing my wrist and hauling me up. “Then we’re done.”
I groan, body protesting every step. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Smirking, he slaps my arm before jogging off. “Let’s go, rock star.”