Chapter Seventy-Two
Declan
It’s surreal, waking up with Cooper next to me in bed.
Propped on his side, his head in his hand, the other traces slow, unhurried patterns across my skin. His fingertips drift over my stomach, up my ribs, like he’s mapping me, remembering every inch of what he used to touch without thinking.
He’s warm, legs tangled with mine beneath the sheets, curls sticking in every direction, haloed in the thin spill of early morning light outside.
I’ve seen him like this before, back when we were dumb kids sneaking in naps between classes…
but never like this. Never when it meant something to him too.
“I really like this,” he murmurs, brushing the hair on my chest. “Very rugged.”
I grunt, voice thick with sleep. “Beats shaving it.”
“Is that what you did?” He laughs quietly. “I was gonna say, I don’t remember you having so much.”
I stretch, and the movement tugs him closer. “What are you doing awake? Thought I wore you out?”
“Oh, you did,” he says dramatically, flopping onto his back.
“But I’ve been getting up early to run with Lockie.
” He trails a lazy hand down my chest, a smile playing on his lips.
“I run now, Declan, and I sort of like it. I’m a changed man.
” I start to move, but he presses me back down.
“I’ll move soon. Not now. I’m enjoying snuggling. ”
“I didn’t realize you were such a cuddler.”
“Only with you,” he whispers, kissing my shoulder.
Covering his hand with mine, I hold it still against me. “Tell me about Reign.”
I brought him up on purpose, but the way Cooper tenses feels like a name he’s not ready to talk about out loud.
He groans. “Why? He’s the reason we got into this mess.”
“I heard you talking to Grace,” I say, nudging him.
“Then you already know all about that part of me.”
“But I want you to tell me.”
Cooper exhales and rolls to face me, lacing our fingers together.
“It was…loud. But a good loud. At first, it was everything I dreamed it would be. The lights, the crowds, hearing people sing my songs back to me. Edits of me popped up everywhere, and it was like overnight everyone knew me.” His smile dims as I graze a thumb across the back of his hand.
“And they wanted everything from me, Dec. My voice, my time…my private life. People they…knew everything about me before I even knew what city I was in. My shoe size, my star sign, questions about my sexuality. Anyone I stood beside for longer than ten seconds, suddenly I was dating them. Any gesture I made was turned into a social media analysis. Every smile became a rumor, every tired movement became a headline.”
I squeeze his fingers. He doesn’t look at me, just stares at where we touch, breathing slowly.
“I wasn’t ready for it.”
“I don’t think anyone ever is,” I whisper.
He swallows, eyes flicking up to my ceiling.
“The music stopped being the point. At least to them… The label. It wasn’t, is this song good anymore.
It was, will this trend? Will this go viral?
I wasn’t allowed to write about what I cared about.
I wasn’t allowed to sound like myself. They squeezed the life out of everything I loved until the only thing left was… Reign Cooper.”
Reaching up, I thread my fingers into his hair. He leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second.
“The worst part?” he says, fingers playing absently with the sheets, twisting it tight.
“I didn’t even notice, not really. I just kept going and going because that’s what I was supposed to do.
Be grateful. Smile. Perform. Sell. Repeat.
But the thing that made me want to write in the first place, the thing that made music mine, was gone. ”
He finally looks at me, and a small smile etches onto his tired face.
“And then Toronto happened,” he whispers. “And it was like someone lit a match in a room I thought had gone pitch-black forever. Suddenly, I had something I wanted to write about again. Someone.”
My stomach tightens, and I swallow hard, nodding.
“Cory Keegan,” I say, my voice a little rougher than before. “Didn’t you two have a thing?”
He blinks slowly before barking out a genuine, disbelieving laugh.
“I’m sorry, what?” He sits up so fast the sheets pull with him. “See, this is what I was talking about. Declan, Cory and I were never a thing. It was PR. All of it.”
My brow pinches. “But I saw—”
“Nothing,” he cuts in. “We were told to act that way on stage. The label wanted the attention. Cory was blowing up, I was blowing up. It was all bullshit.”
My pulse spikes anyway, the old jealousy simmering just under the surface of my skin. Cooper’s hand lands on my chest.
“Oh my god. You thought we were together. You were jealous.”
“Don’t seem so happy about it,” I mutter.
His face softens, and he leans forward, but instead of kissing me like I want, he hesitates and pulls back slightly to look at me. Hand cupping my jaw, his thumb brushes my lower lip once before he presses a slow, careful kiss against my mouth.
“I’m sorry. For being a shitty friend. Even before I got signed. If I would’ve realized how I felt…” His shoulders slump. “If I’d known how you felt…”
I don’t trust myself to speak. The weight of yesterday—the confessions, the years lost—settles heavily. My gaze catches on the chain around his neck instead, gleaming between his collarbones. I reach up, rolling the plectrum pendant between my fingers.
“You still have it,” I say, my throat thick. “I thought you’d have replaced it with something nicer by now.”
“Replaced it?” He pulls it out of my hand, holding it protectively to his chest. “Are you kidding? I nearly had a meltdown when the chain broke. Liam had misplaced it once, and I—” He winces. “It wasn’t pretty.”
“Liam lost it?”
“Tried to, maybe? He never lets me wear it during shoots or events. Says it’s tacky.” He rubs at it gently. “I never thought the way I dressed or looked would have been so controlled. Dumb, huh?” He shrugs, trying to brush it off. “Lockie keeps it for me now. Along with my phone when I’m on stage.”
“What do you mean?” I frown, confused.
He groans, dropping his head to my shoulder. “Why are we talking about my asshole manager when I could be riding your cock again?” Shifting, he settles on my hips, shadows casting over his naked body. Heat flares low in my stomach, but I grip his thighs, holding him still.
“I want to know what I’ve missed, Coop.”
He huffs, resting his hands on my pecs. “Pulling out the big guns with Coop, huh?”
I smirk. “If it works.”
“Fine. There’s micromanaging, and then there’s Liam. He’s been with me from the start. At first, I liked that he was always with me. I mean, I was this twenty-one-year-old na?ve kid. Then I got bigger, and just…he wanted more.”
My fingers bite into his muscles, body stiffening under his. He’s quick to shake his head. “No. Nothing like that. I mean, more shows, more interviews, more everything. And no breaks. Ever.”
He picks anxiously at his thumbnail, until I take his hand gently, the red marks I’d noticed before appearing less angry.
“Then he started getting more… possessive, I guess? I think he was deleting my texts.”
“What the fuck?” I snarl, trying to sit up, but he presses his hand on my chest, keeping me down.
“Not that it’s an excuse, but I think that might be part of the reason I wasn’t replying…because I wasn’t getting them.”
He reaches across me, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and pulling up our thread. I scroll, confused by a timeline that looks manipulated. Even years after I deleted everything, I can still clearly picture what I’d sent.
“When I told him the fifth album wouldn’t be ready,” he continues, taking the device and tossing it to the foot of the bed, “he said I should stop being difficult and let someone else write it.”
My blood boils. Who the hell is this man? What kind of manager does this? I’ve seen how Cooper works—the late nights, the torn-out pages, the rewrites of the same line until it finally sounds right.
“I know how much of yourself you put into your songs, Coop. Anyone who doesn’t get that and tells you to step aside doesn’t know you at all.”
Cooper glances at the bed, avoiding my gaze, but I tuck my finger under his chin, forcing his head upward.
“This Liam guy?” I add, voice hardening. “He sounds like a dick.”
“Yeah.” He laughs weakly. “Then when I walked out of the photoshoot last month, he sent me these angry texts and voicemails. Lockie found me on my hotel room floor, so…phone ban.”
“Cooper, fire him.”
“Nah, Lockie’s not that bad.” He snorts, mouth curving, trying to deflect. I glare at him, and his smile falters, voice barely a whisper when he says, “I know I should. Lockie says the same thing.”
“This isn’t healthy. Working your ass off every day with no downtime… No wonder you burned out.”
“It’s not so bad,” he mutters, giving me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I got my muse back.”
“I’m serious.” I push through the way his words make me light up inside. Because muse or not, Cooper can’t keep going like this.
“So am I. Liam might be a lot of things, but if he didn’t push me, I wouldn’t be here.” I open my mouth to speak, but he covers it with his fingers, stopping me. “And for that, I guess I owe him.”
He cups my jaw with both hands, forehead touching mine, his breath warm against my face.
Then he kisses me slowly, lips moving with infuriating confidence, coaxing rather than stealing, because he already knows I’ll give him whatever he asks for.
My fingers slide into his curls, tugging him closer, swallowing the low sound he makes.
The bed shifts under us, and his hands sweep along my shoulders, my arms, rocking on top of me.
It’s intoxicating. It’s too much.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
Which is exactly why the reality check lands like a smack to the boards.
“Cooper, I—” I swallow and force myself to meet his gaze. “I’ll always be your friend. And your muse, if you want. Hell, I’ll even take royalties.” I try for humor, but it just sounds flat. “But I can’t be more than that.”
His head shakes subtly, his eyebrows drawing together. “But… you love me.”
“I know. And that’s exactly the problem,” I whisper. “Sooner or later, you’ll go back to LA, and I’ll stay here. Running a bar, living a life a world away from yours.”
He shakes his head. “But—”
I cup his cheek and force a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry, Cooper. Friendship is all I can offer.”
He’s quiet, too quiet, until something flickers in his eyes, and he nods. “Okay.”
Relief trickles through me, but before I can speak, he smiles that mischievous, reckless smile that always meant trouble.
“Okay,” he repeats, this time without conviction.
“Cooper, I’m serious—”
“So am I.” He climbs off me and stands, tugging on his underwear and running shorts. “I gotta get going. Lockie will be waiting for me in the lobby. And you’ve got to get to work.”
“Cooper—”
He’s already moving back toward me, leaning over the bed and kissing me once. Brief, hot, decisive. A promise disguised as restraint.
“I heard you, Dec,” he murmurs against my lips. “Loud and clear.”
Then he straightens and heads for the door, pulling on a t-shirt without another backward glance.
“Cooper?” I shout after him, already sitting up.
My eyes dart around the hotel room, snagging on my jeans in the middle of the floor, my shirt crumpled somewhere near the foot of the bed, ready to grab them and try to make him listen, but all I hear is the shuffle of him shoving on his sneakers, and then the soft thud of his hotel door behind him.
I wait, breath held, half hoping he’ll come back to say something cheeky, something to let me try to convince him again, but the muffled ding of the elevators down the hall meets my ears.
Falling back, I drag a pillow over my face, groaning into cotton that smells exactly of him.
He heard me; he just didn’t listen. And when Cooper Riddick wants something, he never stops until he gets it.