Chapter 16
COOPER
I’d been sitting in my backyard for the better part of two hours, staring into the flames of my fire pit and nursing what was probably my third bourbon. Maybe fourth. I stopped counting after the second one failed to stop the tingling in my lips.
The kiss. Damn, the kiss.
I had replayed it about a hundred times in my head, from the moment Joy grabbed my hands to the second she pulled away looking mortified.
The way she’d risen up on her tiptoes, the soft press of her mouth against mine, the split second where my brain had short-circuited and I actually kissed her back before reality crashed in.
It had lasted maybe three seconds. Three seconds that felt like they’d rearranged something fundamental inside my chest.
The kiss was middle-school level but that didn’t stop my brain from jumping straight to very adult thoughts.
I honestly didn’t know what would have happened had she not bolted like a scared rabbit.
I completely blocked out the crowd and who she was.
I was ready to pull her against me and drag her into the nearest shadowy alley to keep that kiss going.
It had been too long since I had sex. If a chaste kiss could make me hard as a rock with the effects lingering for hours, I really needed to get laid.
The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks up into the December night. I took another sip of bourbon. The burn down my throat was nothing compared to the fire Joy had lit with that impulsive kiss. A fire that no amount of alcohol was going to put out.
Because this wasn’t the first time Joy Murphy had kissed me and then run away.
Ten years ago.
Last party of the summer. The whole crew was down at Miller’s Lake—me, Katrina, Joy, Lynn, and a handful of other kids from our class.
Someone had built a bonfire on the beach, and we were all sitting around it, drinking stolen beer and pretending we weren’t terrified about going off into the world to do the adult thing. College. Jobs. Life.
Joy had been quiet all night, which was unusual for her.
She was supposed to leave for college in New York.
It was going to be so strange not having her around.
Her energy. That pretty smile that always meant she was up to no good and you had to decide if you were willing to go along for the ride.
Joy Murphy was the sunshine on a dreary day.
I couldn’t imagine not having her hanging around the house.
Teasing her was the highlight of my day.
“Cooper,” she said, appearing at my elbow while I was helping Lynn gather firewood. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I’d followed her away from the group, into the trees that bordered the lake. She had seemed nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her tank top, not quite meeting my eyes. Joy was never nervous. Not around me. We were friends. Friends that picked on each other but she knew I always had her back.
“What’s up?” I’d asked.
“I don’t want any unfinished business before I leave,” she said, which had confused the hell out of me.
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, she had stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her shampoo, something flowery that had been driving me crazy for months.
“This,” she’d whispered, and then she was kissing me.
Not the quick, grateful peck from tonight.
It had been a real kiss, soft and sweet and hungry, everything I’d been dreaming about since sophomore year when I first started noticing that my sister’s best friend wasn’t just annoying anymore.
She’d tasted like strawberry lip gloss and the Coke we’d been sharing, and when her hands had fisted in my shirt, I’d thought I might actually die from how perfect it felt.
For about ten seconds, I had kissed her back with everything I had. Poured three years’ worth of carefully hidden feelings into that kiss, let myself believe that maybe she felt the same way I did.
Then she’d pulled back, looked at me with wide, panicked eyes, and bolted. Just ran back toward the fire, leaving me standing there in the trees with my heart hammering and my lips still tingling.
I hadn’t seen her alone again before she left the next morning. And when she’d come back for Thanksgiving months later, she’d acted like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t shared the kind of kiss that had kept me awake for weeks afterward.
Sitting in my backyard now, ten years later, I could still remember every detail of that night. The way her hair had felt under my fingers, the little sound she’d made when I’d deepened the kiss, the look of absolute terror on her face when she’d realized what we’d done.
History repeating itself. Joy Murphy kissing me like her life depended on it, then running away like I was contagious.
I should have stopped her from leaving tonight. Should have grabbed her hand before she could disappear into that crowd. I should have kissed her properly instead of standing there like an idiot while she apologized for the best three seconds I had in months.
But I had been too shocked by the sudden rush of memory and desire and something that felt dangerously close to hope. By the time my brain had caught up with what was happening, she was gone, leaving me standing there with half the town watching me with curious looks.
I never really thought of myself as the kind of guy that got tripped up. I usually had a pretty good handle on things. Before Lynn, I wasn’t necessarily a player, but I had game. That woman fucked me up. And I let it happen.
And it was still happening. I was a mess.
The bourbon wasn’t helping. If anything, it was making everything worse, amplifying the frustration and the want and the nagging voice in my head that was pointing out I was twenty-seven years old and still letting Joy run away from me.
I finished my drink and went inside. I had to work tomorrow. Hopefully, it would be a slow day, and my head would not have to endure the loud sirens. I stripped and fell into bed. It took all of two seconds to pass out.
Unfortunately, the morning brought a hangover and Katrina. My sister loved to torture me. It was a twin thing. My only hope was that some of that twin telepathy was making her feel just as bad as I did.
“You look like hell,” she announced cheerfully, walking into the fire station kitchen where I was attempting to drink enough coffee to rejoin the human race. I was drinking it straight black. Not my usual way. I needed every ounce of caffeine to hit me. No diluting it with cream and sugar.
“Good morning to you too,” I muttered, not looking up from my cup.
“Rough night?” she asked, settling into the chair across from me with her own coffee and what appeared to be homemade muffins. “You seemed a little intense when you left the square last night.”
I shot her a warning look. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? I’m just making conversation with my big brother who looked like he’d seen a ghost when I said goodbye to him last night.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Tired,” she repeated skeptically. “Right. And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the bottle of bourbon I can smell on you from here.”
Damn it. I thought I’d showered off the worst of it. “Leave me alone.”
“That’s what you get for getting hammered on a work night. I’m going to buzz the tones extra loud today. You know better. You better hope Chief doesn’t pick up on your hangover status. He will kick your ass.”
“Don’t lecture me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, but her grin suggested otherwise. “Though I have to say, this is quite a change from your usual ‘one beer and I’m done’ routine.”
I didn’t answer, focusing instead on drinking enough caffeine to stop my head from pounding. The truth was, I hadn’t tied one on like that in months. Not since the early days after Lynn, when bourbon had seemed like the only thing that could quiet the noise in my head.
“It’s all the Christmas stuff,” I said finally, because I needed some explanation that didn’t involve discussing Joy’s kiss with my sister. “You know how it gets to me.”
Anyone that saw that kiss would have seen it as typical friends. Nothing sexual. She planted her lips on mine and then was done. No tongue. No groping. Not even an exchange of saliva.
Chaste.
Friendly.
Maybe a little European.
Katrina’s expression softened slightly. “I know. And I keep telling you that you need to get over it, but—”
“Yeah, well, clearly it’s not that simple.”
“No,” she agreed quietly. “I guess it isn’t.” She was quiet for a moment, picking at her muffin. “Probably doesn’t help that Joy is back.”
I looked up sharply, wondering if she’d seen something last night, if she knew about the kiss. “Why? What does that mean?”
But Katrina was looking past me, lost in some memory. “I was just thinking about the old group, you know? Me, you, Joy, Lynn. How close we all used to be before everything got complicated.”
Hearing my ex’s name made something twist uncomfortably in my stomach. I wished I never would have looked Lynn’s way. I knew she had a crush on me for years before I finally noticed her the fall after Joy left for college.
“You got together with Lynn right after Joy took off for school,” Katrina continued, apparently following a similar train of thought. “And we all thought it was great at first.”
I remembered. Lynn had been there that night at the lake, had probably seen me disappear into the trees with Joy.
She’d been the one to comfort me when Joy had acted like nothing had happened, the one who listened when I needed to talk.
It had been easy to fall into something with her, safe and uncomplicated after the confusion Joy had left behind.
For a while, anyway.
“Yeah, well, we all saw how that turned out,” I said, the words tasting bitter.
“That’s my point,” Katrina said, leaning forward. “That’s why you don’t date within the friend group. When things go wrong, you don’t just lose a girlfriend or boyfriend—you break up the whole group. Everyone loses, not just the couple who splits up.”
The reminder hit like a punch to the gut.
She was right, of course. Katrina was loyal to me.
She lost a good friend because Lynn and I fell apart.
Well, that wasn’t technically how all of that went down and I still believed Lynn was a selfish monster who didn’t care about anyone but herself.
I was personally very glad Katrina wasn’t friends with her.
Lynn wasn’t good enough to breathe the same air as my sister.
“You’re right,” I said quietly.
Katrina looked surprised by my easy agreement. “I mean, I’m not saying—”
“No, you are saying. And you’re right.” I stood up, suddenly needing to be anywhere but in this conversation.
I left the kitchen and headed to the bunkroom to try and take a nap. Eventually, someone would find me and drag me out to clean something, but for now, I needed a minute.
Katrina was right. Some patterns weren’t worth repeating, no matter how much you wanted to. Joy and I were never going to happen, and it was for the best.