Chapter 28
COOPER
I close the door behind me, leaning against it as everything crashes down. My body trembles beneath me, and I feel myself breaking—splintering into pieces. A loud sob escapes my lips, and I clasp a hand over my mouth, terrified that Ryan might still be standing on the other side of the door. I squeeze my eyes shut, stifling a cry as I roll my luggage into the room.
The silence in here is depressing, pressing down on me like a suffocating fog—making me feel lonelier than ever. My phone dings, the sound cutting through the quiet like a blade. I glance at it, dreading what I already know will be there.
Brad: Are you really this desperate? Throwing yourself at someone like Ryan? I deserve better than this bullshit.
Another comes immediately after.
Brad: Go ahead. Keep ignoring me, acting like a whore for him. You’ll regret this—I’ll make sure of that. I know your deepest, darkest secrets, Cooper. Remember that.
The words hit me like a slap, and a cry rips from my throat—a raw, primal sound I can’t control. My hands clutch at my hair as the anguish floods me. It feels like I’ve been stabbed in the gut, the blade jagged and twisting. The pain isn’t new; it’s been simmering for years, dull and constant, like a wound I’ve learned to live with. But now? Now, it’s unbearable, the knife plunging deeper, festering and infected, stealing what’s left of me.
I crawl onto the bed, curling into myself as I rock back and forth on my knees. My breaths come in short, frantic gasps, each sob tearing through me, threatening to shatter what’s left of my heart.
It feels like a blindfold has been ripped away—like a blind person suddenly given the gift of sight. The overwhelming awe at the simple beauty of the world, mixed with the gut-wrenching sorrow for everything they’ve missed. That’s exactly how I feel—but with love. For every breathtaking moment of clarity, there’s a sharp ache, the devastation of realizing everything I’ve been blind to was within my grasp—if only I’d known to reach further.
I’ve been here all along, surrounded by the possibility of love, of being seen, of being valued—but I couldn’t see it. And now? The pain of knowing what I could have had—it’s almost too much to bear.
It’s not just the five years with Brad—it’s everything before him: the childhood dreams of who I wanted to be, crushed by men before him; the wrong lessons about what love was supposed to look like; all the hurt I let shape me. I see it now, the choices I made, the way I kept choosing men who used my weaknesses against me, who whittled away at my confidence.
I wipe at my cheeks, the sting of my tears lingering. God, if only we could go back and redo the things that fucked us up—armed with what we know now. But I guess that’s the cruel joke of it all, isn’t it? The scars teach us. But they also mark us, forever reminding us of what we’ve lost.
I clutch the pillow beneath me, resting my hot cheek against the cool pillowcase—desperate to ground myself. For a brief moment, the sensation calms me, like a balm against the cracked, raw surface of my emotions. But the truth doesn’t stop—it sweeps through me, wild and unrelenting. I didn’t just lose years—I lost myself. And now, I can’t help but wonder: did I ever truly know who I was? When I’m with Ryan, someone else emerges—someone I don’t recognize. She’s unfamiliar, almost foreign. She feels happy. God, how long has it been since I’ve felt that?
The silence presses on me like a weight I can’t bear. I fumble with my phone, the smooth glass screen trembling beneath my fingers as I open Spotify. I tap ‘Today’s Hits,’ needing something—anything—to fill the suffocating emptiness around me.
Two songs play as tears streak my cheeks, my mind spinning in endless circles. “Favorite Song” by Toosii comes on next. I’ve heard it before, but this is the first time I really hear it. The lyrics hit me immediately, like they were written for me—for this moment, wrapping around me like a blanket. The song speaks of exhaustion— the hurt, the lies, the cheating—and the relentless thoughts of leaving.
The words seep into me, cutting deep. The chorus begins, and its message is unmistakable: you need someone who doesn’t make you question yourself. Someone who doesn’t leave you waiting or doubting. Someone who loves you without needing a reason—who can bring peace to your chaos. Someone… like Ryan.
I think about the way he held me earlier, his arms strong and steady, like they were built to shield me from the war inside me. The scent of his shirt lingers faintly in my mind, and I laugh-cry at the memory of him asking for it back. And the way he looked at me—not with pity, but with something deeper. Something safe. Something real.
Tears stream down my cheeks, falling not just for the years I wasted, or the damage Brad inflicted, but for the possibility of something better. For the chance to be with someone who doesn’t just see the cracks but wants to help me mend them.
But what if I’m too broken for someone like Ryan? What if he sees my mess and decides I’m not worth it? I’ve spent so many years being used, being left, being told I’m not enough or that I’m really only good for one thing. What if I’m not enough for him, either?
I push that demon aside, reminding myself: Ryan’s seen me at my worst—mean, spiraling, drunk.
He’s still here.
He’s still waiting.
The final chorus hits me like a challenge, daring me to believe—in me. Nobody but you can make you change the things you don’t like about yourself. Change isn’t easy, but it’s possible. Maybe Ryan isn’t here to save me; maybe he’s here to remind me that I can save myself.
I loosen my grip on the pillow as the song fades. My tears slow, and I take a deep, shaky breath. For the first time ever, a flicker of hope stirs within me—small, fragile, but real.
Ryan doesn’t make me feel weak. With him, I feel steady, strong—capable. And maybe, just maybe, I can believe in that.
Believe in him.
Believe in me.
I exhale slowly, breathing out the doubts, the pain, and the ghosts that have haunted me for too long.
And my next breath feels a little lighter.
* * * * * ? * * * * *
“I really liked Jennifer. She was quick and smart, and I think her experience as a leader is crucial,” I say as we walk through the hotel lobby, the faint smell of perfume lingering from the woman in front of us. We just interviewed four different people at the new work location in Austin, and with travel this morning—it’s been a long day.
“I agree. She was really good. Definitely outshined everyone else today. What should we do for food tonight?”
“I’ll eat wherever.” I honestly don’t care where we eat; my brain feels like it’s been running a marathon all day, and I’m too drained to process anything extra. I’ve been constantly thinking about everything, especially Brad. I still haven’t talked to him. And I know when I do, it needs to be in person, and we’re both traveling for work this week, so… Plus, I’m avoiding it for obvious reasons.
“Should we just go to that food truck around the corner?” Ryan asks as we step into the elevator.
I press the button for my floor and his. Ryan was upgraded to a suite, so we’re on different floors this week. He generously offered it to me, but I declined.
I lean against the wall, glancing at Ryan. He looks good, dressed in his best work clothes—a light blue button-up with navy blue dress pants and a suit jacket. His brown shoes and matching belt give him an extra polished look. I love how his top few buttons are always left undone, giving him a casual yet dressy vibe. Plus, his chest is just sexy.
I glance down at my own outfit. I kept it simple today, wanting to look professional but not distracting—a champagne satin button-up tucked into white dress pants.
Sudden exhaustion hits me, a mental overload from the long day. “What if we just stay in instead? You know, change into something comfortable, order room service, watch a movie?”
He hesitates, shifting from one foot to the other, his lips pressing together like he’s thinking. “I don’t know, Coop.”
The doors open for my floor, and being the gentleman that Ryan is—and because we aren’t done talking—he exits with me.
The carpet muffles our steps as we walk down the hallway. My room is the fourth door down, so we’re there in mere seconds.
He continues. “Honestly, I don’t trust myself in a room alone with you right now.”
I turn to face him, leaning my back against the door of my room. I exhale. “I get it. I can respect that. I’m just tired, you know…” I trail off.
“Okay. We’ll stay in. But we’re hanging out in my room since it’s bigger.”
“Obviously,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Can you just…” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck as a smile tugs at his lips. “Can you put something really baggy on? Please?”
“I don't have any baggy pants. But I have a sweatshirt?” I offer, smiling.
“Is it that Chicago Bears one that slides off your shoulder?”
I bite my bottom lip, nodding.
“Jesus. Yeah, we can’t have that.”
I laugh. “Oh my God, Ryan, it’s just a sweatshirt.”
“Yeah, and that sweatshirt turns me on.” He combs a hand through his hair, shaking his head like he’s trying to push the thought away. “Fuck. Everything you wear turns me on.”
I smack my lips together. Damn. He’s so cute. “We can go to that food truck and eat in the lobby instead,” I suggest. “But I promise, if we stay in, I’ll be good.”
“Alright. Go on in and get changed. I’ll wait for you out here.”
He’s so great to me. This isn’t a big thing, but it feels like it. “Thanks. I’ll be quick.”
I change quickly into a heather gray SKIMS jersey set. The tee is fitted and hits just above the waistband of the spandex pants, which hug my ass but flow loosely through the legs.
When I meet him back in the hall, his eyes sweep over me, an eyebrow raised.
“Don’t give me that look,” I say, pointing a finger at him.
“You can’t be serious with that outfit.”
“Of course, I’m serious. It was this, or leggings and the sweatshirt… you said not to wear the sweatshirt. It’s not like I’m pulling from a closet here. I only brought a few things.”
He puts a fist to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s in agony. “You’re killing me, Coop. This is torture. Actual torture.”
“Oh, come on,” I say, shoving him playfully on our way to the elevators. He trails behind, letting out a low, appreciative whistle, and I can’t help but smile.
Two hours later, I’m laughing my ass off on the bed with Ryan. A spread of plates and room service dinnerware sits between us. I pick at my fries and pour myself another glass of wine. We rented Borat , and I haven’t stopped laughing. I think Ryan’s laughter is mostly at me, not being able to contain mine.
When the movie ends, I gather our boxes and clean up the bed, setting all the room service items into the hallway. We ordered two bottles of wine—white for me, and red for him.
“Do you want another glass?” I ask picking up the bottle as I pass by.
“Sure,” he says, holding out his glass for me.
Tipsy, I give him an extra-large pour. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I hadn’t seen that movie. I haven’t laughed that hard in so long.”
“Well don’t forget about the time we laughed our asses off in the pool with those edibles.”
“Oh, yeah. How could I forget that memorable moment?” I plop down in the middle of the bed, crossing my legs to face him. “The night I went batshit crazy and somehow didn’t scare you away forever?”
Ryan chuckles. “I like your batshit ways,” he says, his voice softening as he looks at me with a longing that makes my insides warm.
“You like when I go batshit?” I raise a brow, eyeing him down.
“Yeah… I think it’s cute when you get all feisty and worked up. It kind of turns me on.” He laughs, as if he knows what he’s saying is insane.
I tip my head back, laughing. “Oh, you’ve completely lost it. Isn’t Leo a therapist?” I tease, nudging his leg with my foot. “You might want to unpack that—it sounds like a weird mommy issue.”
“I don’t have mommy issues.” He moves faster than I expect, tackling me. In one quick motion, he pulls me down and rolls to his back, wrapping his arms around my waist as I land on his torso. Before I can react, his fingers dig into my sides, tickling me mercilessly.
“I have Cooper issues,” he says as I kick my legs, screaming with laughter.
“Are you seriously tickling me? God… You’re such a teenager!” I yell through the giggles. He wraps his legs around mine, forcing them to hold still as his hands continue their relentless attack.
I can’t stop laughing, kicking and flailing like a kid. It’s ridiculous, but I don’t feel like I have to hold anything back. And that feels… good.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to shove my finger up your nose.” I jab my index finger blindly upward, poking at his face as laughter bubbles out of me.
“Stop!” he shouts, laughing as he grabs my hand. I twist, kicking a leg free, but he moves faster, rolling me onto my back. Suddenly, we’re face to face. His breath is warm on my cheek, and the firm grip of his hands on my wrists sends a jolt of electricity through me. His face hovers inches from mine, our lips so close we’re sharing breath. My heart pounds, and butterflies flutter all the way to my chest, making my breath come out shaky and uneven.
We lock eyes, but his gaze shifts to my lips briefly before returning to mine. His expression shifts into something I can’t quite place. He licks his lips and blinks hard.
“Coop, I need to tell you something… It’s been eating me alive, and I can’t keep it in anymore.” His voice comes out low and rough, tinged with something that makes my pulse quicken.
I look at him, my stomach knotting. The energy in the room has shifted—it’s heavy and unsettling. “What is it?”
He sighs, rolling onto his back. “While you were in Newport, before Christmas.” He pauses, his jaw tightening as he laces his fingers into his hair and tugs hard. “Fuck, Coop… I went to this private club with Leo and Vivian and some of their friends, and… I saw Brad there. He was making out with some girl, hanging on her all night.”
The words hit me like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath out of me. I sit up, turning to him. “What?” My thoughts spiral. “Before Christmas? He wasn’t in Chicago… He was on a work trip.” The air feels stifling, my mind racing as I rack my brain for where he was supposed to be. “New York. He said he had to be in New York.”
Ryan sighs, his voice heavy. “He wasn’t. Or if he was, he wasn’t gone as long as he said he’d be.”
“No.” The denial escapes me in a whisper. “He said he flew from New…” My voice quits. My gaze drops to the sheets below me, my fingers clutching them tightly. “Are you sure it was him?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
He nods, sitting up. “He talked to me. Tried to convince me and Leo into thinking it was all good. A one-time thing.” He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to his lap before meeting mine again, sorrow heavy in his eyes. “He said there was no need for you to find out… to get hurt. I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I should have told you sooner.”
My brows knit together as the tears threaten to spill. “Why didn’t you?” My voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it now. The hurt is sinking in, morphing into something familiar. “Why the hell would you sit on this for weeks?”
Ryan exhales, rubbing his palms over his face. “I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. No one likes the fucking messenger, Coop.” He drops his hands, his eyes pleading. “And I didn’t want you to resent me for it.”
I shake my head, my chest tight. “So, what? You thought I’d just be better off living a lie?” My voice wobbles, my emotions tangled between anger and heartbreak. “Jesus, Ryan. You saw him, you knew, and you just—let me go on like nothing happened?”
He sighs, tracing a finger across my hand, the touch gentle but weighted.“No. I wanted to give him the opportunity to do it. To man up, do the right thing.” He looks at me, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I told him I’d give him a month to do it himself, and if he didn’t, I was going to… I wasn’t trying to protect him. I was trying to protect you.”
I nod slowly, the words sinking in. Protect me. Maybe he really thought that. Maybe he didn’t want to be the reason my world crumbled. But it doesn’t change the fact that he knew. “By letting me continue to sleep with the cheating bastard?” I let out a shaky breath, staring at the sheets beneath me. “I need to go,” I whisper.
Ryan reaches for my hand, his touch warm, but I pull away.
“Coop, don’t. Stay here. You can sleep right here, next to me.” His voice is soft, almost desperate.
I swallow hard, blinking back the burn in my eyes. “No, that’s okay.” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “I actually think I’d really like to be alone.” I try to meet his gaze, but the storm of shock, confusion, and the fight to not cry makes it impossible.
Ryan’s shoulders sag, but he nods, watching as I stand. “Alright… if you’re sure.”
I nod. “I’m sure.” He walks me to the door and pulls me into a hug before letting me go.
I head down the long hall toward the elevators, moisture spilling onto my cheeks faster than I can wipe it away. How could I have been so blind? Brad’s cheating again? What a selfish asshole. And why am I even sad? I wanted this—I wanted proof he was unfaithful so it would be easier to leave. But it still hurts. It hurts so bad. And more than anything, I’m just embarrassed. Embarrassed I didn’t see it. Fuck. Has he been cheating the whole time? I mean, Jesus, this is who I picked? I chose him. I chose to move in with him, to go back to him. Hell, I even told him I’d marry him.
The worst part is, I really did love him. I’m ashamed of that. And now I wonder if he ever even loved me. God. Ryan probably thinks I’m so weak. How could he not?
I slow my steps, the memory of our playful exchange in the hotel room flashing through my mind. And then that last conversation…. I’m hurt he didn’t tell me sooner. Maybe I could have avoided the past few weeks of agony with Brad. But no, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’ve been wanting to leave for three years, yet here I am. The only thing that’s given me the strength to believe I can leave is hope—for a future with Ryan.
I stop walking. Ryan… Ryan. What the hell am I waiting for? My relationship with Brad has been over for a long time. These text messages, his toying with me—it’s all a fucking game to him. A sick, twisted game.
And I’m done playing.