Chapter Eighteen
Cooper
By the time I get back to the hockey house, my body aches like I was hit by a truck. My shoulder has more of a dull ache, one that has a way of telling me it’s not planning on letting up anytime soon.
I roll it a few times, testing my range in an attempt to loosen it a bit, but the tightness never goes away.
I choose to shower again anyway.
The hot water does its job, the steam filling the bathroom helping ease my muscles enough to take the edge off. I brace my hand against the tile when I lift my arm to rinse my hair, clenching my jaw.
I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.
Maybe if I tell myself enough, I’ll start to believe it.
When I head downstairs afterward, dressed in a pair of gym shorts and no shirt, not wanting to bother with lifting my arm to put it on, Talon is already standing in the kitchen.
He looks up from where he is staring down at his phone, leaning against the counter. His eyes narrow, not at me but at the way I’m favoring one side without realizing it.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say automatically. “Just a bit stiff.”
I’m grateful when he doesn’t ride my ass about it either.
I grab a shaker bottle and scoop protein powder into it, moving on autopilot. My mind keeps drifting back to Brinley.
As if he can sense where my mind has gone, Talon clears his throat and asks, “You talk to Brinley recently?”
I stop shaking the bottle, my eyes narrowing on him. “Not since earlier today. Why?”
The way his expression shifts has my spine stiffening.
“Wren said she saw her a little bit ago,” he says carefully.
“At the student center?”
I’m confused why it seems like that’s something I should be concerned about.
“Uh, no. Outside of the athletics office,” he says. “Wren was there for her internship. She said she saw Brinley leaving. Came out of one of the offices fast, like she was trying not to be seen.”
My grip tightens. “She say anything else?”
Talon hesitates. “She had been crying. Guess she looked pretty upset.”
I set my drink down and pull out my phone. She had told me she was going to the student center.
Did she ever make it?
Why would she lie to me about where she was going?
She hasn’t told me about her father, so I guess coming out and telling me wouldn’t make sense either.
Me: How are you doing? You get your assignments done?
I try not to let on that I’m worried about her, given we were together only a few hours ago. The message updates to delivered, and I stare at the screen, hoping it’ll update to read soon.
When nothing comes, I tell myself I’m being unreasonable. Maybe she’s driving back to the farm, or maybe she’s in the shower.
Or maybe she just needs space after what happened.
I hit the Call button, and it rings and rings before going to voicemail.
I don’t bother leaving one.
Talon glances over at me again. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, already dialing her again.
He raises a brow. “You calling her?”
I nod. It rings longer this time and goes to voicemail again.
I don’t care how it looks. I don’t care if she thinks I’m hovering. Knowing she left the athletics facility in tears doesn’t sit right with me.
Brinley might deflect. She might pretend she’s fine, but she wouldn’t dodge my calls.
Our last conversation replays in my head. Her forced smile, the way she avoided my eyes, and how fast she grabbed her bags when she said she was going to the student center.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Brinley: Sorry. Got called in. One of the new girls didn’t show. I’m at the bar.
“Is that her?” Talon asks.
“I guess she’s at Broken Saddle.”
Talon frowns. “You think maybe it wasn’t her Wren saw?”
“I don’t know.”
I grab my T-shirt off the back of the couch, where I left it when I came downstairs, and shove my protein shake in the fridge. My shoulder protests as I drag my arm through the sleeve, a sharp reminder of what I don’t have time to deal with right now.
“I’m heading out.”
Talon clenches his jaw. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I don’t like this, and I need to see her.”
I jog upstairs, changing out of my gym shorts into a pair of jeans. I shove my feet into my boots, my keys already in my hand.
“Take it easy. If you need anything, hit me up,” Talon calls out.
I nod. If she approached Coach about him being her father and it didn’t go well, I don’t want to think about what this could mean for her future in Rixton.
No matter what, I’m not letting her carry whatever happened in that office alone.
I get to the bar before the dinner rush sets in. The lights feel brighter without so many people crowding the space. The music is low, and a strange calm fills the air.
I see Brinley immediately.
She stands behind the bar, going through the motions like she always does, but I can tell something is off about her. I clock it from across the room.
Her shoulders are tight. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s not wearing a speck of makeup, and there’s a faint redness to her skin, like she’s been crying recently.
My chest aches.
I slide onto a stool at the far end of the bar. Close enough to see her but far enough away that I’m not crowding her space. I don’t wave or call out her name to get her attention. I just sit there like any other customer waiting to order a drink.
She looks up and spots me, and for a split second, I see it.
The surprise, and then it’s gone.
“What can I get you?” she asks, her voice staying calm.
Like I’m not Cooper.
Like she didn’t fall asleep in my arms and wake up under the same roof this morning.
Like nothing’s wrong.
“Water’s fine,” I say. Then, because I’m me, I add, “Unless you’ll secretly judge me for not ordering a beer.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. Just barely, but it’s there. “I won’t judge you.”
“You don’t have to lie,” I say mildly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Everyone judges someone at one time or another.”
She smirks before she can stop herself, then turns to grab a glass. It’s small, almost nothing. But I’d give anything to see her smile, so I take it.
She sets the water down in front of me, avoiding my gaze when she asks, “Anything else?”
“Nope,” I say. “I’m easy.”
She gives me a look that says don’t start right now and moves down the bar to help another customer.
I don’t move for the rest of her shift.
I don’t check my phone. Don’t pretend I’m not watching her. I sit there and nurse my water like I have nowhere in the world to be because I don’t.
Brinley keeps working. I know she hasn’t been working here long, but she’s already good at this. She slips into conversations easily while pouring drinks, laughing when it’s appropriate.
If I didn’t know her, I might not notice that anything is bothering her at all.
I do know her, though.
I’ve watched her enough to recognize the way she avoids my eyes. The way her smile fades faster than usual. The way she presses her lips together when she thinks no one is looking, like she’s trying to hold something back.
Or keep all her emotions in check.
Every instinct in me wants to ask her what’s wrong. What happened? Did he hurt you?
I don’t, though.
Because I can tell she’s not ready to talk about whatever sent her running out of his office earlier. And pushing her now would only make her retreat further.
So I wait for her.
Minutes turn into an hour, and then more.
At one point, she pauses near me to wipe down the bar. “You plannin’ on setting up camp here for my entire shift?” she asks lightly.
I flick my gaze between my empty glass and her face. “Is that a problem?”
Her lips curve into a smirk. It’s real this time. “Depends on how annoying you get.”
I tap the bar. “Oh, I can be very annoying.”
“I don’t doubt you can.”
There it is. The thread connecting us, even when everything else feels frayed.
I lower my voice now. “I can leave if that’s what you want.”
She stops wiping for a second but doesn’t look up at me.
“No,” she says quietly. “You’re fine.”
So I stay right where I am.
The bar starts to fill up, and the noise swells. Orders stack up, and a steady stream of people enters the bar throughout the night. She’s moving quicker now, falling into rhythm. I stay put, even when my shoulder starts to ache again.
When last call comes and the crowd begins to thin, she finally turns to glance down the bar at me.
“You didn’t leave,” she says.
“What can I say? I’m stubborn sometimes.”
She studies me, and something flickers in her gaze. Gratitude? Surprise? Maybe a bit of both.
Sasha heads to the front to talk to one of the bouncers and lock the doors. Brinley unties her apron and folds it once.
It’s just her, and I can tell she’s disappearing somewhere in her mind.
“Hey,” I say softly.
She straightens immediately and turns toward me, like she’s been caught doing something wrong. “Hey.”
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. Too fast, almost without registering my question. “Yeah.”
That’s it.
I study her face, taking in the tightness around her eyes. The way exhaustion starts to weigh down on her.
“You sure?” I press.
“Yes,” she says again. It’s firm this time. Almost defensive.
Sasha comes around the bar. She thanks her for coming in to help and lets her know she can take off. There’s not much left for her to tackle, so she offers to take care of it so Brinley can go.
Brinley heads down the hallway toward the back room. Sasha looks at me once we’re alone.
“Is she okay?”
I nod. “She will be.”
I turn to follow her. The hallway leading to the back room is dimmer, quieter now. I find her standing with her hand braced on the counter, staring at nothing.
She doesn’t even hear me approaching when I step behind her, pressing my chest against her back. I’m not doing it to cage her in, but I want her to feel my presence when I ask her my next question.
“When were you plannin’ on telling me your father is my coach?”
She freezes, every muscle in her body locking at once.
She turns slowly, her eyes searching my face. “You know?” Her throat moves as she swallows. “How?”
I shrug, keeping my tone even. “Is that what you want to talk about right now?”
She watches me for a second longer, then gives a small shrug of her own.
I nod once. “Wren said she saw you storming out of his office earlier.”
Her shoulders sag, and all the fight drains out of her all at once.
“I didn’t want you to find out from someone else.
I was gonna tell you, I swear.” She exhales, rubbing her temples.
“I haven’t known for long myself. It wasn’t until I was trying to enroll in classes that my name was flagged, and I started piecing the details together. It still doesn’t even feel real.”
“And then?” I ask.
“And then… it did,” she murmurs. “And by then… you and I were already happening.”
Something twists in my chest.
“I didn’t plan on this,” she adds quickly. “Any of it. Not you. Not this. I wasn’t trying to get close to you or—”
“Brinley.” I cut her off. “I know you didn’t.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t quite believe me.
“I was the one who initially approached you, remember? I just wish you had told me. That you could trust me with it, even if it’s a secret,” I say. “That’s all.”
“I know,” she whispers. “When I realized who you were, though, I should’ve told you. I just… I didn’t want it to change things between us.”
I hold her gaze. “This changes nothing between us.”
There’s more she doesn’t want to say. I can see it written on her face, beneath the weight of the secret and the hurt. My instinct is to push her, to get to the bottom of this. I want to help fix whatever is breaking her from the inside out.
But she shakes her head before I can utter another word.
“I don’t want to do this right now,” she says. “It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted, and I want to get out of here.”
I glance around. She’s right. This isn’t the time or the place.
“I’ll follow you to the farm,” I say without thinking. “I want to make sure you get home safely.”
Her expression tightens. “Actually… I think I’m gonna stay in the loft tonight.”
That catches me off guard. “You sure?” I ask, gritting my teeth to keep from saying more.
She shrugs. “I just think… I don’t really want to go back there tonight.”
There’s something fragile in the way she says it, and I can’t help but feel like she’s trying to put distance between us.
I nod slowly. “All right. Can I walk you upstairs?”
She studies my face. I’m not sure if she’s surprised I left it at that or if she’s trying to find the words to let me down easy.
“Yeah. You don’t have to leave, at least not right away,” she adds quietly. “I just need—”
“You don’t have to explain. If you want to stay at the loft, stay there.”
Her body relaxes, just a fraction.
“I don’t want to talk about everything right now,” she says.
“That’s fine.”
I step toward her, closing the distance between us. “We don’t need to talk right now.”
She swallows. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not even a little.” I shake my head. “I just don’t want you to think you have to disappear to deal with things.”
That seems to get through to her.
“I’m not going to disappear,” she says.
“I’m not going anywhere either.” My voice softens.
I let the silence sit instead of filling it.
She nods slowly.
“Okay,” she says. “You can walk me up.”