Chapter 39 #2
“That’s when this finally enters the story.
” He gestures to the tattoo. “Frank reads people like no one I’ve ever met, so it wasn’t long after he became a client that he saw the deep scars I’d been hauling around like boulders in a backpack.
He made quick work of bulldozing his way into my life—in a way only Frank can—and took me under his wing.
He’d lost his wife, Ruth, a few years before that.
They’d been married for thirty-eight years, so he knew a thing or two about losing someone you love.
He made it his mission to create a safe place for me to finally crack open all the pent-up grief I’d been choking on, and he hauled me out of the hole I’d buried myself in.
” His face is filled with affection for Frank.
“As big and brash as that man can be—he’s as tender as they come.
He taught me so many things, including how to celebrate the memory of someone and not let the grief drag you down.
That’s what this fundraiser is to him: a way to celebrate his wife.
Frank ended up becoming some combination of a surrogate father and grandfather—and not just to me.
Deke lost his father when he was only eight, so Frank stepped up for Deke too.
He simply bossed his way into our lives until we were all family. That’s why we’d do anything for him.”
A wave of affection for Frank hits my heart as I remember the kindness he showed me this afternoon. “I can easily see how Frank could work his way into someone’s life like that. Can he be my dad too?” A part of me lifts at the thought of having Frank in my corner.
“He’d take you in a second,” Cooper says with a smile.
“This was all going on at the same time that our business really took off. I was finally working through my grief, but I was also navigating dating again, and new problems appeared. It wasn’t just about my looks anymore—my money became a problem too.
I couldn’t find any women who wanted to have a relationship that went deeper than my bank account.
I’ve done the most insane things over the years to see if a woman cared at all about what kind of person I was—and I can’t believe what I’ve gotten away with. ”
“Like what?” I genuinely want to know and find myself leaning forward, waiting for his answer.
“I’ll tell you sometime, but right now, I want to tell you about this.
” His hand touches his tattooed arm. “I was getting frustrated because my life outside of work had become high school and college all over again: I was a commodity, not a person. Once again, I was entirely lost, but in a different way. I didn’t retreat like before, but I did stop dating almost completely, as my mother so graciously pointed out”—he rolls his eyes—“because it was too depressing.” He leans toward me.
“The only reason I tell you all of this is because I want you to understand where I was five years ago. I’ve always been driven to succeed in my work, but all I’ve ever really wanted was to marry a woman I could worship every minute of every day and to have a million kids running around and terrorizing me.
I’d lost any hope of either one happening. ”
I can easily see how Cooper would be the most amazing dad on the planet. And if the kiss he gave me earlier is any indication of the kind of worshiping he’d give his wife, then whoever she ends up being is an amazingly lucky woman. The thought lands with an unexpected sting.
“I sunk into a kind of depression and needed to make a change in my life, so I did—both literally and symbolically. Literally, I made some huge shifts in my priorities so that I could find happiness in other ways. Symbolically, I did this.” He shifts so that I can better see his tattooed shoulder.
I automatically stand and walk closer, kneeling down in front of him. I raise my hand to touch it, but stop short. “May I?” When he nods, I run my fingers over his bicep.
This is my first real chance to study his tattoo, and I’m in awe.
It’s a colorful phoenix, beginning at the top of his shoulder and extending to just above his elbow.
The bird’s head and upper body are intricately inked with vibrant hues of red, orange, and gold.
The wings are elegantly tucked in close to the body, and the tail cascades down in exquisite and elaborate detail, showcasing shades of blue and purple.
I run my hands all over it, expecting to sense the texture of the feathers for how lifelike it appears.
“I got it because of what it symbolizes to me. I figured that if a phoenix could be reduced to nothing but ashes and still be reborn into something so vibrant, strong, and resilient, then maybe I could be too.” In my peripheral, I see his eyes drop to the tattoo as well.
“And I didn’t want him to be portrayed in the typical fashion, arms stretched out wide,” he mimics the pose, “because a Phoenix is still reborn into full glory whether or not the world sees him do it. I needed him to simply be there—with no big posturing for attention.”
I make a noise of approval, or maybe understanding. “Like what you did for me today.”
He stares, brows furrowed.
“You quietly brought me here and made me a home-cooked meal. You didn’t call any attention to yourself; you simply took care of me.
” An ache uncoils inside of me as I place my hand on his, showing him—in this small way—that I see him.
I notice him. I wonder if this selfless, serviceable version of him is who he is at his core.
Someday Cooper will be old, gray, and wrinkled. I search his deep, dark eyes and wish I could still know him when he’s that version of himself. I’ll bet his soul gets better with time.
I clear my throat, stand from my kneeling position, and take the seat next to him on the love seat. “Thank you for sharing that.” My voice is small, but his eyes react. I admire his tattoo again. “I already thought this was amazing, but now it’s even more beautiful.”
When I finally look up, his eyes are fixed on me, intensifying the storm building in my chest. It’s like his piercing eyes dive straight into mine, and the carefully guarded part of me changes.
It’s making room for something bigger. Something more powerful.
I’m not sure what—or maybe I do and don’t want to give it a name yet.
I bring my feet up onto the cushion, wrapping my arms around my knees as if to protect me from my wayward thoughts. I take a fortifying breath against his penetrating stare before I go on. “Has it helped?” I nod to indicate the tattoo. “Are you happier now?”
“I’m a lot happier than I was. Especially recently.
” His voice has a gravel it didn’t a moment ago.
He continues to look at me, and there’s the crackle of a small spark between us.
“And you have no idea what your words mean to me. I’ve never told anyone why I got this tattoo.
Not my family—not even Deacon.” The combination of his words and his voice feeds that small spark.
“But you seemed to think you were somehow shallow because you loved a pair of shoes—shoes that were deeply symbolic and meaningful. Does it make me equally as shallow if I look at this the same way?” He indicates his tattoo.
My chest constricts and expands at the same time. Have I ever felt so seen and validated? “That’s why you told me?”
“That, and because I wanted to. And blurting out a personal question in the middle of an emotional crisis isn’t going to change whatever we have built between us this week. I’ve waited too long for this.”
His words hang in the air.
“Too long for what?” I immediately hate that the question slipped from my lips, not sure I want the answer.
“For you. For us. For friends-us.” He says friends, but his eyes say something else.
“Cooper—”
“I like it when you do that.” His expression softens. “You called me Cooper again.”
I stand up and put some distance between us. “Don’t look at me like that!” What had been a small spark between us ignites all over my body. “It makes me nervous.”
His smile widens, and he stands up. “What are you nervous about?” He doesn’t move, so why does it seem like he’s getting closer?
“I’m not sure.” I back up until I bump against the counter of the outdoor kitchen.
His long legs close the distance easily. “Are you nervous because you don’t like the way I’m looking at you? Or because you like it too much?”
“I don’t want to answer that.”
He moves closer. “Thank you for explaining why the shoes upset you so much. It helped me understand. But it brings us back to my question: Are you going to accept these?” For the first time, I notice he’s carrying the shoe box. “Or do we burn them together? It’s your call.”