Chapter Seventy-Four
Declan
Talk about mixed fucking signals.
But I can’t help it, and maybe it’s time for me to be a little selfish, letting myself fall into this routine with Cooper.
Watching him sleep in my arms, waking up next to him, his curls sticking up in every direction from sleep…
It’s been on a loop in my mind for days. I want it. More than anything.
The bar’s quiet enough that I can hear his laugh before I even step out of my office. It’s not the showy one he gives fans, but his real one, the one that makes his whole face crinkle, the sound coming from deep inside him.
He’s sat up at the bar, shoulders relaxed, cheeks pink as he tells Vince some story that has my bartender doubled over. Whatever he’s saying stops the second he sees me, attention settling on me like it always does now.
Crossing the room, I nod to Lockie at the side of the bar, my hand sliding to the back of Cooper’s head as I pass, barely brushing the soft skin at the nape of his neck.
He tilts into the touch, eyes half-lidded, gaze following me like he wants to kiss me but knows we won’t do that here.
Not with half the town watching and too many questions waiting to be asked, when we’re not even sure of the answer.
“Hey.”
“Hey, you,” he echoes, quieter.
His knee bumps against my leg, eyes on Vince as he sips his coffee. My fingers tingle with the need to touch him again, and we’re hidden enough that neither Vince nor Lockie would notice. My hand drops to his thigh, knuckles brushing the seam of his jeans in a slow drag along the denim.
“Almost done?”
“Couple more things, then we can get outta here.”
“Hurry. You have no idea how much I’ve been craving tacos.”
Lockie’s phone buzzes loudly on the bar top, and he sighs, glaring as soon as he looks at the screen.
Without a word, he turns and walks toward the far end of the bar, lifting it to his ear.
He stiffens, shoulders locking, jaw flexing as he listens to whoever’s on the other end.
His eyes keep flicking back to Cooper, who doesn’t notice a damn thing.
“So I have time to finish my story,” he says brightly, turning back to Vince. “I was telling him about the time some girl was naked, like fully fucking-starfishing, in Lockie’s hotel room because she thought it was mine—”
“Cooper,” Lockie says as he approaches, voice tight, controlled, but the anger rolling off him is thick enough to suffocate the whole bar.
“No, it’s okay, it’s funny—”
“Cooper.” This time, it’s a warning. A signal. Even Vince’s smile drops because he can feel it too.
Something’s wrong.
Lockie’s stance changes, angling his body between Cooper and the rest of the bar, his hand curling like he’s resisting the urge to physically move him.
Face paling, he lowers his mug and looks at his bodyguard. “What is it?”
“He’s done waiting.”
Cooper glances down at his hand, picking at the edge of his thumb, something I haven’t seen him do since that morning in his hotel room. I might not know who the call was from, but from the sharp lines in Lockie’s jaw, I can tell.
Liam.
Lockie doesn’t elaborate, just places the phone face-down on the bar, knuckles white as he grips the sides. Cooper swallows, that bright, easy smile long gone. He looks smaller, posture caved in like someone took the air out of him.
Dread coils low in my stomach. If he’s done waiting, this isn’t just about a few missed calls or a delayed return. It’s about Cooper being pulled back into a life that I’m still not sure how this thing between us fits in.
“Right now?” he whispers.
Lockie nods. “Aye.”
Cooper’s chest rises too fast, his fingers on his mug starting to shake. For a second, I think he’s going to drop it, and my hand moves on instinct, covering his on the handle.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I murmur. His gaze darts to mine, big, scared, unguarded in a way I’ve never seen before. “You can take it in my office.”
He nods, closing his eyes before sliding off the stool, his knee brushing my leg again. This time, it’s not playful or sneaky; it’s the instinctive bracing of someone who’s been conditioned to expect bad news.
I watch them disappear down the hall, my feet already moving before I can stop them. Lockie comes out a second later, taking up position outside, arms crossed, muscles flexing like he’s one wrong breath away from snapping.
“What’s going on?”
Lockie’s jaw tics once, a tiny spasm of barely restrained violence.
“His manager’s been calling for weeks. Pushing. Threatening. Demanding he comes back. Kept him back as long as I could, but Liam always gets his way.”
He shifts his weight, agitated, as I stare at him, my stomach coiling with rage.
“Why? What does he even get out of that?”
“Control,” he states. “Men like Liam don’t want artists. They want assets. Assets don’t argue; they don’t say no.”
His gaze flicks to the office door, darkening. The strained cadence of Cooper’s voice leaks through the door.
“But he’s Reign Cooper. Surely, he—”
A sharp, clipped Irish accent slices through the wood, cutting me off. Even muffled, the tone is pure acid. Lockie sighs hard through his nose, tendons in his throat jumping as he clenches his teeth.
“Every time Cooper tried to push back, Liam pushed harder.”
My hands curl into fists. I don’t need the rest spelled out. I’ve seen what the pressure did to Cooper, how it’s dimmed him.
“I know what his music means to him,” Lockie adds quietly. “He didn’t lose his voice. Liam took it from him.”
Stolen? Pressured out of him? Either way, the same result.
Cooper’s voice gets louder for a beat, before that bastard interrupts again. And even out here, I can hear the vitriol being spat at him.
“Jesus Christ.” My fists clench, hating that I had no real idea this was going on.
“I see that lad like a brother. And I’d fucking kill that man to keep him safe.”
The volume spikes inside my office, Cooper saying please in a voice I don’t ever want to hear him use again. Lockie’s head snaps toward the sound.
“I’ve seen him cry after calls like this,” he mutters. “And then apologize to me, as if it was his fault. That’s what Liam does. That’s what you’re hearing in there.”
A thud vibrates through the floor, a hand slamming the desk maybe, before Liam snarls something I can’t make out.
“Now would be a good fucking time to intervene, Declan.”
I’m off the wall in seconds, shoving the office door open, the sound hitting me instantly.
“...useless without me. You hear me? Useless.”
Cooper stands behind my desk, shoulders drawn tight, hands gripping the sides like he needs it for balance. He doesn’t notice we’re here, not at first.
“I just said I needed more time—”
“Time?” Liam’s laugh is cold, scraping through the air, leaving nothing but ice in its wake. “You don’t get time. You show up where I tell you, when I tell you, and you stop acting like some precious little princess having a crisis.”
My breathing’s labored, each one being dragged out of me, my body aching to go over there and take Cooper in my arms the second I see him flinch.
“I’m not a machine,” he says quietly.
“Oh, but you are,” Liam spits. “You’re my creation. You sing what I tell you, you wear what I tell you, and you’ll keep your mouth shut, look pretty, and stop thinking you’re capable of doing anything on your own.”
He exhales heavily, fingers loosening on the desk, his gaze looking up, straight at me.
I don’t say a word; I don’t need to. I simply hold his stare, letting him know I’m here, that he’s got this.
I see the moment it happens, the belief in himself starting to build.
His spine straightens, the same look he wore the first time he stepped out on stage. Only this time, he isn’t alone.
“All I’m asking for is a little space. That’s it.”
“Space?” Liam scoffs. “Fine. I’ll give you all the space while I take what I built and find someone who can actually follow orders—”
“Fuck you.”
It’s not loud. In fact, it’s barely spoken at all. But it’s enough for the whole room to stop dead.
“What did you say?”
Cooper closes his eyes, breathes in once, twice, and when he opens them, the fear is still there, but so is something else. Resolve.
“You’re fired.” The calm in his voice is almost as terrifying as the pleading earlier.
“You little piece of— You walk away from me, and I’ll ruin you. I’ll bury you so fucking deep in lawsuits, you’ll choke on every cent you ever made. You’ll come crawling back, Reign. Do you understand me, crawling on your fucking knee—”
Slamming the laptop lid, the sound echoes like thunder in the small room. He stands there, chest rising in shaky bursts, eyes fixed on the closed screen for a moment before his legs give out. I’m under him before he hits the floor, hauling him against me as he clings to my shirt.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “I did it.”
My hands thread into his hair, holding him tight. “You did, baby. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
He laughs, burying his head into the space between my neck and shoulder. Behind us, Lockie exhales, the sound making Cooper stiffen.
“Oh God,” he chokes, pulling back, eyes wild as he starts to pace, his adrenaline burning off fast, leaving panic behind. “I just fired my manager. I need— I need to call him back. I need to fix—”
“Cooper,” Lockie says, stepping forward and planting his big hands on his shoulders. “Say it with me; you did the right thing.”
Cooper swallows.
“Say it.”
“I… I did the right thing,” he repeats, barely above a whisper.
“You did,” Lockie agrees and lets him go to pull out his phone. “I might actually know someone who’d be good for you, if you want me to make the call.”
His nod is small. “Who?”
“Thea Calloway. You know her, she’s Sip Station’s manager. A total ballbuster and won’t take any of your shit, but she’s one of the good ones.”
“Yeah,” he says, swallowing his nerves. “Yeah, okay.”
Lockie squeezes his shoulder once. “Good, lad.”