Chapter 22 - Cooper
Cooper
Sitting in Mom’s living room as the night winds down, I’m struck by how light my soul feels. It takes me a minute to name the emotion. Happiness. It’s been a long time since I could say I was truly happy, but here, surrounded by the people I love the most, that’s exactly what I am.
Lane and Max have been bickering all evening, which seems to be some weird-ass mating ritual for them.
Gross. Mom is puffed up with so much pride at her full house and even fuller guests that I almost want to call her the Pillsbury Doughmom.
And Teddy… Teddy has been perfect as usual.
His steady calm grounds me every time my anxiety tries to tell me this is all too good to last.
My ruminating is interrupted when Mom stands. “Who wants dessert?”
My head turns in her direction so fast I practically snap my neck. I always want dessert, and she knows this. “What’s on the menu tonight?” I ask, already halfway to the kitchen. She must have hidden whatever it is, because otherwise I would have scoped it out minutes after we arrived.
“Cooper Gray Sorenson. We have guests. You will be on your best behavior and allow them to go first, or there will be no dessert for you.” She pulls an honest-to-god old-school cake tin off of a shelf, and I pout, leaning back against Teddy as he comes up behind me.
“Oh, c’mon, Mom. Now you’re just being mean. You know cake is my favorite.” I start bouncing on my toes when the smell of vanilla and buttercream hits my nose.
“Be that as it may, tonight is not about you. Tonight, we are celebrating Lane.”
“M—me?” Lane stutters, backing up a step when we all turn to look at him. “Why would you want to celebrate me?”
“Because, sweetie, rehab is not an easy thing to go through, but you did it. You’re here with us, fightin’ the demons I know good and well are nippin’ at your heels right now, instead of running back to the easy release button.
My boys don’t know this, but I have been where you are right now.
I know just how strong a hold addiction can have on you.
But I’m here to tell you that you can win.
Some days it’ll be easy. Other days, you’ll be fightin’ tooth and nail.
We’ll be here for you, no matter what kind of day you’re havin’, if you let us.
There’s nothin’ wrong with needin’ people, son.
You just gotta let us in. Now, who wants cake? ”
Mom always did know how to read a room. Lane looks close to tears, and his body language is screaming “fight or flight.” Not wanting to push him too far, Mom managed to take the focus off of him without being obvious about her diversion.
A large part of me wants to talk to Mom about this side of her Teddy and I never knew about.
Another part of me wants to wrap Lane up in a hug and never let him go, but I know neither of us would be particularly okay with that right now.
So instead, I approach the counter and reach for the cake tin.
Mom swats my hands with the spatula she’s holding, causing me to yelp.
The room bursts into laughter, and I, once again, find myself pouting.
Everett
LB looks so adorable with his bottom lip stuck out like that, and I get the urge to pull him into my arms and nip at it.
Thankfully, Mom chooses that moment to hand everyone a slice of cake, distracting me from my inappropriate thoughts and the confusion they stir up.
The conversation is much quieter now as everyone focuses on their plate.
I only make it about halfway through my own slice, when LB’s fork begins invading.
I turn, planning to playfully scold him, but his pleading eyes and innocent face win the battle before it even begins.
I slide my plate over to him, chuckling at the way he inhales the remaining half like a starving man.
The rest of the evening is spent enjoying lighthearted banter, LB and Max’s verbal sparring, and watching Lane slowly open up to everyone.
When Mom and Lane briefly disappear, I’m sure he’s getting one of Mom’s “welcome to the family” speeches.
By the time the two of them return, Lane looks less like the world is pressing down on him and more like the young twenty-four-year-old searching for a place to belong that he is.
He quickly gets pulled into the Terror Twins’ shenanigans.
I make my way over to Ma and wrap her up in a hug. “You look happy.”
“I am. My first son is no longer heartbroken and trying to hide it. My second son is finally back where he belongs—and he brought me two others to love on. My house and heart are full to burstin’.” My own heart beats in agreement.