Chapter Nineteen
Brinley
Cooper follows me like he said he would. He’s not close enough to crowd me, but not far enough to pretend he isn’t there either.
I can feel him anyway.
The tension that rolls off him in waves as we step outside and head for the loft is heavy but contained, like he’s holding something back with both hands. He doesn’t rush me or say a word, and that almost makes it worse.
My keys shake in my hand when I unlock the door.
I step inside and flick on the light. The space feels unfamiliar and small after being away for a few days. This place never really felt like mine. If anything, it was somewhere to sleep more than a place to live.
I drop my purse by the door and turn to face him.
He’s leaning against the frame, his arms crossed and eyes pinned on me.
I know what he’s thinking without saying a word.
It bothers him that I wasn’t the one who told him who my father is. I let him find out from someone else instead.
After everything he’s done to help me since I arrived in Rixton, I couldn’t tell him the one secret that had the most to do with him.
He’s never let me feel alone since I got here. He’s looked out for me, protected me without ever being asked, and I still chose to keep him at a distance.
“I need to take a shower,” I blurt out.
Cooper studies me for a long moment. His jaw is tight, and his expression unreadable. I brace myself for him to say something, to ask me if I’m running or to tell me how much I’ve hurt him.
Instead, he nods once. “Okay.”
That’s it. His patience and understanding almost undo me.
I grab my bag from where I dropped it near the door earlier before my shift. I got the call from Broken Saddle as I was pulling out of the athletics parking lot.
I didn’t want to stay at the farm tonight. I didn’t want to walk into that place with everything I felt like I was holding back, so I stopped there, threw my things in my bag, and left it here before clocking in.
Without another word, I disappear into the bathroom before I can change my mind. Before I can crumble. Turning the water on hot, I step under the spray without waiting for it to warm, letting the cold water bite into my skin like I deserve it.
I scrub harder than necessary, letting the sound of the water drown out my thoughts. My father’s voice replays in my head. The photos of his wife and two sons sitting proudly on his desk. The way Cooper looked at me earlier, after he asked me why I never told him my father is his coach.
The disappointment on his face still makes my chest ache.
I lean my forehead against the tile and breathe.
You can handle this, Brinley. You’ve handled far worse.
When I shut the water off, my skin is flushed, and my hands are shaking. I wrap myself in a towel and stare at my reflection. My eyes are a little red. My mouth is set, like it always is when I’m trying not to feel too much.
I don’t bother getting dressed.
I open the bathroom door and step into the living room, towel wrapped tightly around my chest.
Cooper sits on the edge of the love seat, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the floor. He glances up when he hears me, and something flickers across his face.
Like he knows exactly what I’m doing.
“Feelin’ better?” he asks.
“A little bit,” I say. It’s not a lie.
I stand there awkwardly for a second, suddenly hyperaware of how close we are. How quiet the space is. How loaded the air between us feels.
“I’m not trying to—” I start, then stop. I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to stay.”
“I want to.” He nods, his gaze staying pinned on me.
I break the contact, though, unable to meet his eyes.
This is the part I hate. When I can’t pretend anymore. When I have to sit in the wreckage of what I learned today, and the disappointment I feel radiating off the man I’m starting to develop feelings for.
I used the shower to delay this, but I can’t hide forever.
Cooper is still here.
He never left.
I don’t say anything when I cross the room.
I just climb on his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, my knees bracketing his legs. The towel is the only thing between us now, and everything I’m trying not to think about.
Cooper’s hand slides up my thighs, his palm warm against my skin.
He doesn’t rush me. He just takes his time.
And that’s what gets me.
His other hand presses against my face, his thumb brushing beneath my eye like he’s checking for tears. He tilts my chin gently, forcing me to look at him now.
He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to memorize me.
“What do you need?” he asks.
The question cracks something open in my chest.
“I don’t want to think,” I whisper. “I want you to take me out of my mind for a little while.”
His jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring at what I’m asking him.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
His hand touching my face slides lower, unhooking the towel from around me and letting it fall away.
He sucks in a sharp breath as he lets his eyes roam over me. I shiver despite myself.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs.
“I won’t,” I say.
That earns me a faint, crooked smile.
And then he kisses me. It’s soft at first, like he’s asking for permission. I answer by leaning into him, my fingers dragging down the front of his shirt, grounding myself in his solid frame beneath me.
“Please don’t touch me like I’m fragile,” I say as I break the kiss.
He nods once before his mouth crashes back onto mine. A groan slips from me when his firm hands slide up my thighs and drag me closer until there isn’t an inch of space between us.
He grips my ass, forcing me to grind against him. My head tips back as I feel him harden beneath me.
“Coop,” I breathe.
He eagerly palms my ass before his hand pulls back and lands in a firm smack.
“Oh—fuck,” I gasp.
“Is that what you need, baby? Want me to be rough with you?”
I nod quickly. “Yes. Please.”
He hums, satisfied. “Lean forward. Arch for me.”
Gripping his shoulders, I shift forward, sucking in a sharp breath when his fingers brush over my clit.
“So wet for me.”
My eyes fall shut as sensation floods through me. The feel of his hands, his voice, the sound of his breathing growing heavier against my throat.
He moves lower, circling my entrance, and I jolt forward, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Oh God… that feels good.”
I press my mouth to his neck, trying to muffle the sounds between us, but my arousal slicks my thighs and coats his fingers as he keeps touching me.
“Please… Coop.”
This time, he gives in and slowly slides a digit inside me. My breath stutters as he pumps once, then adds another, his palm pressing against my clit while I grind into him.
“That’s it, Brinley. Ride my fingers.”
My nails drag down the back of his neck, my tongue grazing his skin. I feel almost outside myself—reckless and desperate for everything he’ll give me.
He picks up the pace, his hand moving smoothly, the pressure of his palm pushing me closer to the edge.
“So fucking sexy like this,” he mutters. “Letting me take care of you. Tell me this is mine.”
“Ye-yes,” I pant. “All yours. I’m yours.”
He growls, and the next thrust of his fingers hits perfectly. My body tenses, then breaks. Pleasure crashes through me before I can stop it. My moans grow louder as I shudder, his arm locking around me to keep me from slipping off the couch.
I bury my face in his neck as the tremors fade, his chest rising and falling hard beneath mine.
Sliding my hand between us, I press my palm against him, thick and straining behind his jeans.
I reach for his button.
“You don’t have to,” he says softly. “This isn’t about me.”
My eyes lift to his. “You don’t want to?”
“Fuck, I want to,” he breathes. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to tonight.”
Hearing that only steadies me. I slip my hand beneath his waistband and wrap my fingers around him.
He’s warm and heavy in my palm, already slick when my thumb glides over the tip.
Cooper inhales sharply, teeth clenched, hands tightening on my hips.
“Push them down for me,” I murmur.
His nostrils flare as he shoves his jeans lower. I shift back slightly, spit into my palm, and stroke him.
His hips thrust into my hand, head falling back against the couch.
“God… I need you. Need to feel you.”
I crawl forward, teasing the tip through my folds until we both groan. He curses under his breath, reaching between us to grab a condom from his wallet and roll it on before his hand finds mine and guides me down in one smooth motion.
“Holy fuck,” he mutters.
His eyes lock onto my face, studying every reaction.
“Ride me, baby. Come for me again. I want to feel it,” he growls.
His hand grips my ass, another sharp smack urging me on. I grab his chin, forcing him to keep watching as I move over him, our thighs slapping with every thrust.
Heat builds fast, coiling tight in my stomach.
When his finger slides along my ass, brushing lightly over my puckered hole, my body jerks and clamps around him.
His low growl vibrates beneath me as I fall apart again, pleasure crashing through both of us while he pulls me tight against his chest and we ride it out together.
It’s almost too much.
When we finally come down, I’m boneless against him. Cooper doesn’t move, his arms still banded around me, his thumb tracing slow circles along my lower back. I rest my cheek on his shoulder, lips brushing the pulse in his neck.
Everything feels a little slower now. The ache is still there, just not as sharp.
I breathe him in—sweat, soap, and something that’s just him—and let myself stay.
He shifts carefully beneath me, and I feel some of the earlier tension in him start to ease.
“You think you can wrap your legs around my waist?” he murmurs. “We should probably shower.”
As we slowly separate, we groan at the loss of contact.
We’re both still damp, skin warm and sticky. He’s right—there’s no chance we’re crawling into bed like this.
“I can walk,” I say. “You’re not carrying me with that shoulder.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I have two working legs,” I insist, even as they wobble when I stand.
His mouth pulls into a smirk, but I ignore it and reach for his hand.
“C’mon. Join me.”
He steps out of his jeans, tugs off his shirt, and follows me into the bathroom.
Later, after we’re clean and the bed’s made, Cooper climbs onto the air mattress beside me. He doesn’t mention the farm or the hockey house—places we’d both sleep better—and I don’t either.
Because I don’t want him to think I’d rather he leave. And I don’t want to push him away anymore.
I settle against him, my cheek on his chest.
“Will you come to my next game?” he asks quietly.
I tilt my head up. His expression is gentle, but there’s something unwavering behind it that makes my chest tighten.
“I want you there,” he adds. “For me. Not because of today. Just… because you want to be.”
My breath stutters.
He isn’t asking me to prove anything to my father. He isn’t asking me to repair what has shattered.
He’s asking me to step into a place I just walked out of—and do it by choice.
His hand slides up my back, steady and warm. “If you don’t want to, I get it. I just… I want to look up into the stands and see you there. I want to see you in my jersey, cheering for me.”
My throat tightens because I want that too.
But the second I let myself picture it, the arena floods my mind—the stands, the hallway, that office door closing. The way his voice went cold. The feeling of being dismissed all over again.
If I go, I might see him. If I go, I won’t be able to pretend today didn’t happen.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” I admit quietly.
His thumb brushes slowly across my back. “Okay,” he says gently. “Will you still watch it on TV?”
The question settles somewhere deep, somewhere broken. He’s giving me an out. Making it easier for me without pushing.
Cooper showed up for me today. He stayed with me in the aftermath when I didn’t even know what I needed. This… this is him asking for the same thing back.
Silence stretches between us.
“I’ll be there,” I finally whisper.
His brows lift slightly. “You sure?”
I close my eyes, letting the steadiness of him anchor me.
“Yes,” I say, stronger this time. “I want to go. For you.”
Relief softens his expression when I finally open them again. He pulls me closer, resting his forehead against mine.
I’m almost asleep when his voice breaks through.
“You don’t have to tell me everything tonight,” he murmurs. “But when you’re ready… I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
I nod so he knows I heard him, but I won’t lie and pretend I’m not scared.
But this time, I’m choosing where I stand.
And when I fall asleep in his arms, it isn’t because the hurt is gone.
It’s because the next time he steps onto the ice, he wants to look up and see me there.
And I want to be too.