Chapter 24
COOPER
“Let’s take the medal off to sleep, huh?” I said, reaching for the ribbon around Benji’s neck. “We don’t want it to hurt you.”
Benji nodded, letting me lift the medal off him. I set it down on his nightstand, next to his dinosaur night light, then sat on the floor next to the bed like I normally did until he fell asleep.
He probably didn’t need me to do that anymore. I might’ve needed him tonight, though.
“Is Felix mad at you?” Benji asked, as though he’d read my mind.
Not that he would’ve needed to. He’d been there, he’d heard what I’d heard, and he was more than old enough to understand that Felix had sounded upset, even if he didn’t understand why.
A sigh escaped me before I could stop it. The last thing I wanted was to pour my heart out to Benji—he was supposed to come to me for support, not the other way around—but I didn’t want to hide anything from him, either. I didn’t want him to feel as though I was keeping secrets.
Even if I had been keeping Felix a secret. That had been because I knew it wasn’t forever. Felix was never going to stay in Otter Bay. He’d told me that from the beginning.
I understood now why that was. It was too small for him. He was better than this. He deserved more.
“I think maybe he is, yeah,” I admitted.
“Why?”
I’d known the question was coming but it still made me flinch.
“I can’t know for sure.”
“Because you can’t read minds,” Benji said sagely. I’d told him that often enough in the beginning. That he had to tell me how he was feeling and what he needed, because I couldn’t read his mind. He’d gotten so good at it I’d almost forgotten it’d ever been a problem.
“Because I can’t read minds,” I agreed. “But I think he thinks I don’t want to be his friend anymore.”
Which wasn’t what I’d meant at all.
I just didn’t want him to miss a good opportunity. I wanted him to know I wouldn’t take it badly if he left.
I would, but I wouldn’t blame him for that. I’d known this was only a temporary thing.
The fact that I’d fallen for him, that I wanted more than anything for him to stay, was my problem. There was no point in making it his.
“But you do, right?” Benji asked.
“Of course,” I said, reaching out to run my fingers through his hair. “I… Felix is my friend. I really like him.”
“You love him,” Benji said. “Right?”
I blinked at him. Where had he…?
“Uh—”
“I saw you kissing,” Benji interrupted, looking away from me as though he was confessing to doing something wrong. “On the porch the other day. I shouldn’t have been peeking. I’m sorry.”
Oh. Well. If I hadn’t been trying to hide… whatever Felix and I had going on, then there wouldn’t have been anything to peek on.
Anyway, I couldn’t get mad at him. Not right now. My heart wouldn’t take it.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t tell you because…”
Because I’d never believed it was forever.
“Because I didn’t want you to be disappointed when Felix left.”
Benji knew about people leaving. He was a brave, resilient kid. I’d wanted to spare him going through it again, but he deserved the truth now.
“But you love him.” Benji turned his big brown eyes on me. “You were kissing him.”
“Sometimes adults kiss even if they’re not in love.”
“I know,” Benji said, complete with eye roll to make it clear how obvious that was and that he wasn’t some kind of baby who didn’t know things. “But you love Felix.”
He had me there. Smart kid.
“I do,” I admitted. “I do love him.”
“Then why won’t he stay?”
I chewed on my lip, giving myself a second before answering. Benji was smart. He could understand this. I owed it to him to explain.
“Because sometimes it’s not enough to love someone to stop them going away,” I said. “Sometimes there are other things going on.”
Benji wrinkled his nose. He knew that. He’d loved his mom—we all had—and she’d gone away. That didn’t mean he had to like it.
I didn’t like it, either. I wished it was as simple as that.
“Felix can’t live the life he wants here,” I said. “He has to go somewhere with more people, because we don’t have a big ballet company here in Otter Bay.”
“We could,” Benji said petulantly, looking away from me again.
“Maybe one day,” I said. Honesty was one thing, but I didn’t want to break Benji’s heart any further by explaining the finer details of capitalism to him. There’d be time for that particular blow when he was older. “They’ll definitely make you principle dancer if we do.”
“Just like Felix,” Benji murmured. He wasn’t happy, but he was accepting it. That was all I could ask.
He’d bounced back before. He’d bounce back again.
So had I.
We’d both be fine.
It was better if I focused on taking care of Benji. He was the thing that mattered most. I didn’t need a boyfriend and Felix was never going to be that, anyway.
“Just like Felix,” I said. “I bet he’d come see you. Wherever you were.”
Benji’s lips twitched into a smile for a split second. I got the feeling it was more for me than him.
A six-year-old was trying to comfort me. I was clearly handling this well.
“Don’t be mad at Felix, okay?” I tucked a stray curl behind Benji’s ear. “Sometimes, when you love something, you have to let it go.”
Mom had always told me that.
I hadn’t understood it until now. She’d been right all along, though. I loved Felix. I wanted him to have the best possible life. I wanted him to be happy.
That meant letting him go.
“I’m not mad at Felix,” Benji said softly.
“Mad at me?” I asked, twirling one of his curls around my finger.
He shook his head. “Just sad.”
“I know,” I said, and then, softer, “me too.”
I gave Benji a few beats to ask any more questions, then straightened up and reached for the box of books I kept by his bed. “Wanna pick a story?”
That earned me a smile. He picked one he’d heard probably forty times, and I got lost in the familiar rhythm of words I could have recited without looking at the page at all. By the time he dropped off, I was about ready to fall asleep, too.
If Dad hadn’t appeared in the doorway, I might’ve slept on Benji’s floor. Wouldn’t have been the first time.
Instead, I got up and followed him into the kitchen. Mom wasn’t around, which I realized was intentional when he opened the fridge, grabbed two beers, and offered me one.
I took it without arguing, perching on one of the breakfast bar stools.
The one Felix had sat at when he’d come over for dinner, as it happened.
Dad cracked his beer open, leaned his elbows on the counter, and took a sip.
“Wanna talk about it?”
I huffed, twisting open my own beer. “That obvious?”
Dad shrugged. “I know what it looks like when your heart breaks,” he said. “You’ll always be my little boy, y’know. No matter how big you get.”
My lips twitched, but I couldn’t quite maintain a smile. “I’m not heartbroken.”
It sounded weak, even to me.
Dad only raised an eyebrow as he sipped his beer again.
“I’m not,” I said. “I knew it was just a… fling, or whatever.”
The word fling felt weird on my tongue, and not just because I couldn’t ever remember using it before. I didn’t think of it that way. I never had.
The problem was that I hadn’t thought. I hadn’t really thought about what it meant that Felix wasn’t—couldn’t be—forever.
It wasn’t that I thought people ought to mate like swans, no matter how many times I’d seen Swan Lake. It was just…
Well. I wanted to. I wanted someone I could keep. I’d never wanted anything else, and it hurt every time I couldn’t keep them.
“Be honest with me, is this your screw up, or his?” Dad asked. “Because my advice will vary.”
“I wish it was that simple.” I turned my beer around between my hands, picking at the edge of the label with my thumbnail. “Felix got an offer to join a new dance company in LA.”
Dad raised an eyebrow.
“As a choreographer,” I clarified. “It’s what he told me he wanted to do, way back when we invited him to dinner. It keeps him in the ballet world. It’s… ballet is his whole life. It’s all he’s ever known. I can’t…”
“Compete with that?” Dad asked, gentle.
I looked up from my beer to find sympathy written all over his face, brows soft and eyes crinkled at the corners.
I’d actually been about to say something like can’t ask him to give that up for me, but I supposed it amounted to the same thing. I couldn’t compete.
What did I have to offer? I worked for my dad as a small-town mechanic and I had a six-year-old who had to come first, always.
I was happy with that. Now that I’d settled in here, I was looking forward to the shape I could see my life taking.
I got to spend all my time with people I loved more than anything.
It was just that, for a little while, I’d gotten to add someone to that number. And now he was going away.
“I don’t want to compete with it,” I said. “I want him to be happy.”
“Oh,” Dad said, shifting his weight. “You’re in love.”
It wasn’t any kind of question. He knew.
I grunted, finally sipping my own beer. I could barely taste it, too busy thinking about the look on Felix’s face before he’d turned away.
“Yep.”
“Told him that?”
“Nope.”
“Coop—”
“My feelings aren’t his problem,” I interrupted, sharper than I meant to. “Sorry,” I apologized reflexively. Dad was only trying to help.
He nodded is acknowledgement, and we both sipped our beers in silence.
“So are you planning to spend the rest of your life never getting close to anyone again, or is it just Felix who scares you?” Dad spoke up again just as I’d been starting to think he was going to let it drop.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. He held my gaze. Waiting.
For the most part, Dad treated me like the adult I was. Right now, though, I felt like I was twelve years old again.
“You moved here eight months ago,” Dad said.
“And all you’ve done is work and take care of Benji.
Now, those are admirable things,” he continued, holding a hand up to stop me before I could object.
“And God knows that kid needs someone on his side. But you haven’t even made a friend since you got here. Do you think that’s sustainable?”
“I’ve got—”
“Me, and your mom, and Benji, of course, always,” Dad said, softer.
“That’s a very small life, Coop. I don’t want that for you.
I’m not saying it has to be Felix.” He reached out, covering my hand on the counter with his own, squeezing it lightly.
“Although if I could gift wrap him for you, I would, because you light up like the sun whenever he’s so much as mentioned around here.
I’m just saying that at some point, you have to let someone else in.
And that means taking the risk that they’ll hurt you, or leave you.
Love wouldn’t mean shit if it didn’t come with that risk.
I don’t think I raised a coward. I think you’ve done a lot of brave things for Benji’s sake, and ours, too.
Don’t you think it’s time you did something brave for yourself? ”
I chewed on my lip, shifting uncomfortably on the stool. Dad was probably right. He normally was.
I wasn’t sure that meant I could take his advice.
Laura had died on me, and that wasn’t her fault, but it still hurt. Aaron, who I’d been sure I’d spend the rest of my life with, had given up on me the first time things got tough.
Felix…
Felix, I couldn’t think about too long without flinching. It hurt too much.
He wasn’t going to stay. I couldn’t give him what he wanted. That was that.
I drank the rest of my beer in one long pull, eyes watering by the time I was done.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, dropping the empty beer bottle into the recycling once I’d stood up.
“Hey, Coop?” Dad called after me. I paused as I reached the kitchen doorway, half-glancing over my shoulder.
“I love you,” he said. “I don’t say it enough, but I love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”