Chapter 17 Cooper
COOPER
Spring slipped by in the usual melee of work, school, and kid activities, but nothing felt ordinary anymore. Not with Silas in town.
“I was thinking of staying till the end of July. Is that cool?”
Did he really have to ask?
Silas was a breath of fresh air and all my favorite holidays wrapped in one sexy package—an attentive lustful lover, a loyal friend, and he was incredible with Ivy and Chase. He was funny and sometimes goofy, but his brand of silly had a sharpness that kept him from being a pushover.
Yes, of course I wanted him here.
We’d quickly established a rhythm that gave anyone who’d bothered noticing the impression that we were neighbors who’d become friends.
Red Oak was a secluded lane shrouded in the forest. No one would wonder why one of our houses was dark when my kids were with their mom.
If they spotted us sharing a booth at the diner or grabbing coffee at Rise and Grind, they wouldn’t think twice about it.
The real truth was that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
It was impossible to be in a room and not touch Silas.
It didn’t have to be sexual. I was happy to watch TV with him, and my heart raced at the feel of Silas’s knee against mine at the kitchen island.
I liked having him in my space, playing video games, making coffee, lying naked in my bed. Or next door at his friend’s house.
We traded off places on a whim based on clean sheets, who’d recently bought groceries, or who had a better supply of lube and condoms. I’d text him on my way home, and either he’d be on my doorstep, or he’d tell me to come over.
Some nights we attacked each other on sight, too anxious to be naked and horizontal to bother with finesse.
Other nights, we’d make dinner and talk, and just… be together.
It was, obviously, different if the kids were home.
Silas might wait outside, timing the end of a run with their arrival.
They’d offer an enthusiastic invitation for dinner, and he’d play the part of a gracious guest. Sometimes he helped with homework, which was highly entertaining.
Sometimes he’d play soccer, football, or baseball with them while I barbecued.
Silas had a knack with kids. He understood the art of reciprocation.
He’d share an interesting football fact or a funny thing that happened in town and it would seamlessly open a new avenue of conversation.
“Old-time football players didn’t wear helmets. Can you believe that?” or “You know a football is called a pigskin sometimes ’cause the earliest balls were made from pig bladders.”
“Eww!”
“Gross! You’re making that up,” Ivy accused, her eyes alight with humor.
“It’s the truth. I swear.” Silas kicked the soccer ball to Chase and changed the subject.
“I met the doctor who lives at the end of the street today. Dr. Shandley. He told me his dog hopped into the mailman’s truck this morning and wouldn’t get out.
Trixie helped deliver every letter and every package in Wood Hollow today. I say she deserves triple treats.”
Chase chuckled. “Trixie always gets out. She sneaks in our yard sometimes and begs for scraps.”
“She jumped in Dad’s truck once, and he didn’t know she was there till he got to work. Remember, Dad?” Ivy called to me at the grill.
“I do. She followed me around the mill all day. Doc had surgery and couldn’t pick her up right away. I didn’t mind.” I covered the chicken with foil and turned off the gas. “Dinnertime.”
Ivy picked up the ball and skipped to the deck. “That’s why I think if we got a super-sweet dog it wouldn’t be a problem. You could take him to work with you, and Layla and Emily and the guys would help watch him.”
“Here we go again.”
“We can’t help it,” Chase groused, kicking grass from the soles of his shoes and slipping them off on the mat. “Dogs are the best, and Mom won’t get one. She says the yard isn’t big enough, but maybe we’ll get a bigger house. We think she wants to move. Are we having brussels sprouts? Ew.”
I stopped in my tracks, a sick dread in the pit of my stomach.
Silas must have noticed I’d gone pale. He grabbed the platter from me, brushing my arm in a subtle show of support.
I hadn’t shared anything about Sarah with him.
Nothing about our marriage, our divorce, the ups and downs of coparenting, or the cloud of uncertainty looming about her future in the Four Forest area.
Nothing at all.
To be fair, none of those topics ranked in my top ten favorites.
And somehow Silas knew. He suddenly had big opinions about brussels sprouts and a funny story about the time he’d made cauliflower and it had somehow exploded in his oven.
The kids were practically crying with laughter.
Ivy told him about the cake she’d baked that had dipped in the middle.
She’d solved the problem by filling the hole with frosting.
“It was so good,” Ivy bragged. “Chase wants me to make it for his birthday.”
“Yep! With chocolate frosting.” Chase licked his lips greedily.
“No problem. But you have to wait till September,” Ivy singsonged, shifting toward Silas. I met his gaze across the table to catch his reaction at the inevitable question, “When’s your birthday, Silas?”
He blew his cheeks out like a puffer fish and slumped theatrically in his chair. “In a few weeks.”
Ivy gasped in delight. “Really? I’m baking a cake!”
I hid my smirk behind my glass of water and thoroughly enjoyed the ensuing banter about frosting choices, sprinkles, and if fruit or whipped cream were ever good options.
“You set me up,” Silas jokingly accused the next day in front of the coffee shop.
“I did no such thing.” I adjusted the sleeve of one of the lattes on my tray and tipped my chin to greet a couple of loggers who’d walked in.
Ted was the elder statesman in the bunch. The rest were in their twenties and thirties, following their parents and grandparents into the business.
“Yo, Boss. A little early for a lunch break, ain’t it?” Beau teased.
I delivered my best deadpan stare, made a quick round of unnecessary introductions ’cause of course, they all knew who Silas was now. But it was an opportunity to emphasize that he was my neighbor and to put a little distance in my voice.
“Right. I’m timing you now, smartasses,” I grumbled, then nodded in Silas’s direction. “See you around, neighbor.”
“Later.”
I walked away, my face hot with something that felt a lot like shame. And I wasn’t sure why. Silas was as invested in keeping our relationship a secret too. Maybe more so. There was no reason for second-guessing. We both knew the score.
Still. I felt dirty.
“I heard you bumped into our resident football hero,” Layla said, thanking me for her drink.
It had been less than ten minutes since we’d parted ways on Main Street, but this was Wood Hollow, so no…I wasn’t surprised. News traveled fast.
“Yep.” I plucked my drink from the tray and made a beeline for my office.
“Oh, hang on!” Layla motioned me toward her desk. “Two things: Hank called from Denver. He says the big meeting is set for next month. It’s a conference call. He left details in an email and asked me to tell you to check it sooner rather than later. Does that mean what I think it means?”
I raised my brows. “I suppose we’ll see next month.”
“You’re no fun,” she huffed impatiently. “But that’s okay. I know I’m right, and I’m manifesting positivity. This is so happening.”
“If it does—”
“When it does,” Layla corrected.
“Okay…when it happens, you’re not allowed to leave the mill to work at the Depot. I hope you know that.”
She chuckled. “As if. I love my job and I love my cranky boss.”
“Hmph. What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?”
“Oh…nothing. I just wondered if you’d heard anything about Silas coaching flag football this summer?”
“I…uh…”
Yeah, I’d heard. The news was a week old. Silas had wanted to agree on the spot but knew he had to run it by his agent. Especially since Dexter’s idea was to put a “star” spin on it, like Elmwood had done with their junior hockey camps.
“That’s a yes,” Layla guessed. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets.”
Not true.
Not true at all.
Later that evening, I apologized for my abrupt departure at the coffee shop.
Silas wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I—”
“I’m open!” Chase called, waving his arms like a windmill on the far end of our empty street.
Silas chucked the football, clapping when Chase caught it. I shoved my hands into my pockets and cast a wary glance toward the house. Ivy had hopped into my truck at school pickup with her eyes painted purple and hadn’t said two words on the way home. I needed to talk to her.
My plan had been to get Chase started on homework first, but he’d spotted Silas washing dirt off his sneaker with a hose next door and had jumped out of the truck to greet him, football in hand, before I’d had a chance to rein him in.
As much as I wanted to, we couldn’t invite Silas over every night. My time with my children was sacred. Sure, a dinner or a playdate here and there was fine, but anything more than that was just…excessive. It would send the wrong messages, give the wrong ideas.
Or maybe the right ideas.
Christ, I didn’t know anymore.
“I walked away without saying good-bye, and…” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I hate to ask, but…would you mind if I left you with Chase for ten minutes? I need to talk to Ivy.”
“Go for it.” He stretched his right arm out and caught Chase’s wild throw. “Hey, Coop.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t apologize. I’m not the sensitive type. I know you’ve got a life here, and I won’t intrude. Go do dad things. I’ll keep this guy busy.” With that, Silas called out a play that had Chase running forward and making a sharp right.
I squeezed his shoulder, then headed for the house. “Ivy?”
She didn’t respond, but the sound of running water from upstairs gave me a clue to her whereabouts. I knocked on the bathroom door.
The faucet turned off a moment later. “Yeah?”
“Can we talk for a sec?”
Ivy opened the door a crack. “Okay.”
She wiped her hands on a towel and patted her face. Her poor eyes were red—either with tears or because she’d rubbed them raw to clean off the makeup.
“Um…” Shit, I was bad at this. I massaged the back of my neck and flashed a smile that felt false and awkward. “Listen, I noticed you’ve been wearing makeup every once in a while. Like today. Your mom and I like to be on the same page about these things and—”
“Dad, it’s a little eye shadow. That’s all.” She crossed her arms, her mouth set in an angry line. “It’s not like I’m vaping or anything.”
Vaping. Oh, fuck.
I tried again. “True, but honey, I gotta say…you don’t seem to be happy about it. You raced up here to get rid of the evidence. So either you don’t want me to see or acknowledge it…or maybe makeup isn’t the problem. I don’t know. Fill me in.”
She sidled around me and flounced down the hall to her room. I caught up in time to see Ivy fling herself face first onto her purple gingham duvet.
“I’m not good at being a teenager,” she cried into her pillow.
I sat on the edge of her mattress and stated the obvious. “Sweetheart, you’re not a teenager yet. You’ve got a year and a few months to go.”
She mumbled something incoherent that I had to ask her to repeat twice.
Finally, she sat up, head bent, wringing her hands together. “I’ll be twelve this summer.”
“Yes, but—”
“Nora will be thirteen soon. Like, in November, and Zoe’s birthday is in December.
I’m the youngest one and I never cared until like…
now.” Ivy frowned as she twisted toward me.
“Everyone is wearing makeup, and Nora wears her mom’s jewelry, and she can even fit in her cool shoes too.
She’s my best friend, but sometimes I feel I don’t fit in anymore. Not every day, but…today…”
“Was one of those days?” I guessed.
She nodded miserably. “I put eye shadow on in the bathroom at school. Zoe told me I overdid it and…I saw Derek and stupid Cole Jerkman looking at me and laughing, and I didn’t have time to wash it off. I just…I liked it better when we were all reading Calaria Cartwright mysteries.”
Me too.
This was a tough one for me. My girl wasn’t a teenager, but she was on the cusp of change and aware that her friends had beat her to it. Everything in me wanted to shield her from unkind words and growing pains, but I had a feeling that was simply part of becoming a young adult.
“What did your mom say? I’m assuming you told her too.”
Ivy shook her head. “No, she’s…busy. And she doesn’t say anything about makeup if I only use a little and I don’t—”
A clatter of footsteps jolted our attention to the hallway.
“Cooper!”
“It’s only a little cut,” Chase insisted in a calmer tone. “We have Band-Aids in the bathroom.”
“Okay, okay. Right. Never mind. We got this,” Silas called out.
Ivy and I shared a wide-eyed yikes expression, but before she could run interference with her brother, I stopped Ivy with a light tug on her wrist.
“Hey. Be you, Ive. I know you think you have to keep up with the crowd, but you’re perfect just the way you are. Utterly perfect. Just be you. And if you want to talk…I’m here. Always.”
She grinned and launched herself into my arms. “Love you, Dad.”
My heart clenched in my chest. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
She stepped aside, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “We better see what happened.”
“Good idea.”
Ivy didn’t budge from the doorway, though. She gave me a shy sideways glance. “It’s not that I don’t want to wear makeup…I kind of do. A little, anyway. I just don’t know how to do it right.”
Silas rushed out of the bathroom just then, wide-eyed and harried. “Yo, I’ll teach you how to do makeup later. I got a more immediate problem. Chase tripped on a rock and ate some gravel and the Toy Story Band-Aids in the medicine cabinet wouldn’t fit around my big toe. Help!”
I bolted down the hall and was relieved to find that the cut was more of a surface wound than a real issue. I took over nursing duties while Ivy and Silas headed downstairs to start dinner. She was adamant that he should join us.
I overheard his pushback—something about not wanting to get in the way of our family time and Ivy’s response that we all liked him, even Dad, and we had plenty of food to share, so he might as well stay.
He did.
And I didn’t have it in me to pretend I wanted or needed distance. The opposite was true. On a day when I was overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility to my job and my kids, Silas was a breath of fresh air I craved.
I didn’t have to stress about the financing for the Mill Depot tonight. And second-guessing my parenting skills seemed silly because here they were, laughing like a couple of loons at Silas’s embellished retelling of a swooping crow that had chased him out of the forest during his morning run.
Silas had his own worries, but he didn’t bring them to the table. So that night, neither did I.