Chapter Sixty-Seven
Cooper
“Got a wee bit drunk, did we?” Lockie says, shoving a bag into my chest as he walks through the door.
“Urrrgh, not so loud.”
Closing the door, I lean against it, the solid click of the lock echoing in the too-quiet hotel room.
Pale morning light leaks in through the gap in the curtains, striping the carpet and the unmade bed.
I’m fully dressed, mouth dry as sand, brain kicking against my skull like it’s trying to escape.
Every throb behind my closed eyes is a rhythmic reminder that switching to whiskey was a terrible idea.
Folding himself into the armchair, he watches me like a predator waiting to pounce. I take the electrolyte drink out of the bag and down as much as possible. Dragging the back of my hand across my mouth, I scowl. “It’s not like I set out to get that bad.”
It’s exactly like I set out to get that bad.
“Fine,” I groan. “But I had good reason to.”
Lockie’s expression doesn’t change, but the amusement is there, hidden under all the stoicism. “Mmm.”
Flopping back dramatically onto the bed, I throw my arm over my face. “Everything was going fine. Declan was…avoiding me, sure, but in that I want you, but I’m terrified kinda way. And I was… I was making progress. Wearing him down, bit by bit.”
“Aye, you’re good at that.”
I peek at him from under my arm with a scowl. “Wow. Rude.”
“Accurate.” He rubs a hand over his jaw, trying not to smile. “And for the record, you’re a right whinge when you’re drunk.”
I groan, hiding from him again. “Oh God, what did I say?”
“Cooper, the walk from the lobby to your room? All I heard was Declan, Declan, fucking Declan. Why does Reese get to take him out on dates? Why doesn’t he look at me like that anymore? You get real whiny about him when you’re on the whiskey.”
Heat floods my face. “That’s not— I don’t—”
“Is he not allowed to have other friends? Date people?”
“No,” I snap, then immediately regret it. “I mean, yes, obviously. I want him to be happy. But I’m only here for a short time, so maybe Reese could wait to swoop in with his hero jawline and give me, I dunno, five minutes to have Declan to myself?”
The words sit wrong the second they leave my mouth. A short time. I’m not even sure what that means anymore. I told Declan I wasn’t going anywhere—and I meant it—but wanting to stay and being allowed to do that isn’t the same thing.
Lockie exhales, frustrated, and I sit up, frowning.
“What?”
“You’re really riled by this. For someone who wants him to be happy.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I ask, embarrassment making me snippy. “I’m trying to rebuild something.”
“Something,” he mutters.
Groaning, I drag a hand down my face and sit up to look at him. “Lockie, I’m too hungover for riddles.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve watched you for years, Cooper. The hookups, the flings. You don’t care about any of them.”
“Okay, slut-shaming. Love this.”
Cutting me off, he holds up a hand. “Not at all. Your body, your rules. My point is, you’ve never put effort into anyone like you do Declan. And since you’ve been here? You’re…lighter. Writing again. Smiling. Actually living.”
A cold, terrifying shiver runs through me. “What are you implying?”
“How long have you been in love with him?”
“Wh— Who?” I manage.
“Declan,” Lockie says simply. “How long have you been in love with your best friend?”
I freeze. The brakes screech. The record scratches. The computer stops computing because, what the fuck?
“I’m not—”
Lockie scrubs a hand over his jaw, expression flattening into that no-bullshit look he saves when he’s about to ruin my life for my own good.
“Look. I don’t care if you admit anything or not. Last night? That wasn’t you pissed about some firefighter being prettier than you.”
I glare at him, and he ignores it.
“That was about Declan letting someone else in. That’s what sent you spiraling.”
Huffing, I shake my head. “That’s—”
“Do you know when you used to bring up Declan? Only when you were drunk. And every time, it was the same, like you were trying not to think about him until you let your guard down.”
My throat closes, an unsteady prickling crawling up my spine. “Lockie—”
“I don’t need to bet my next paycheck to know this, but that boy had feelings for you back then. And honestly? From the way he looked at you last night when he dropped you off…I’m not convinced those feelings went anywhere.”
My vision tunnels.
No.
No, no, no.
I shove off the bed, pacing the room, hands shoved in my hair.
“We fooled around when we were younger because it was easy. Fun. Comfortable,” I blurt.
“I’ve never comfortably fooled around with any of my friends,” he deadpans.
“Do you even have friends?” I shoot back weakly.
He doesn’t even flinch.
I start pacing again, memories slamming into me like a montage of this is your life, Cooper Riddick, you dumbass.
Not his touches, not his hesitation. Mine. All the shit I did without ever thinking about it.
How I always looked for him first in crowded rooms, the Lost Compass, anywhere. My eyes just…found him. How he was the first person I told everything to, the only one who could talk me down when my head got too loud.
All those times I told myself it was just fun. Safe with Declan. What a fucking lie. He was the only person I wanted like that. The only one I trusted to touch me, see me, get close without feeling wrong or empty. Everyone else after him? Bodies I used to fill the space where he wasn’t.
Declan wasn’t the easy option. He was the only option I ever wanted, and I was too blind to see it.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “I was in love with him.”
The words hit like a kick to the jaw.
“I’m in love with him.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Lockie asks.
Fuck. I have no idea. All I know is that the idea of Declan smiling at someone else makes me physically ill. Now every second I spend away from him feels like punishment. Now everything he did when I first came home makes perfect sense. I—
“I need to go.”
“Where?”
“I need to hear it from him. I need to know what he felt, what he feels. If I didn’t…ruin everything.”
What if I’m too late?
Lockie’s expression softens in the smallest way I’ve ever seen.
“Then go ask him.”