Chapter 32
COOPER
Ifound myself humming “White Christmas” as I straightened up the living room. The melody drifted out without any conscious thought on my part. It wasn’t until I caught myself mid-verse that I realized what I was doing, and the awareness brought me up short.
When was the last time I’d hummed anything, let alone Christmas carols? What the hell was wrong with me?
Then I remembered Joy had been humming it last night after the movie ended. I must have picked it up from her.
The living room still held traces of Joy’s presence from the night before. I didn’t think she wore perfume, but there was definitely a warm scent I picked up on. Maybe it was lotion or shampoo. It was just Joy. I picked up the empty plate that had held her homemade cookies from the coffee table.
Such a simple gesture, bringing cookies to someone. But it had felt like so much more than that. It had felt like caring, like the kind of domestic kindness I’d almost forgotten existed. And I couldn’t remember the last time I just hung out with a woman.
Lynn was always on the move or wanted sex. She hated the idea of hanging out. I forgot what it felt like to just be with someone without all the extra stuff. No dinner. No parties. To just be.
I carried the plate to the kitchen, where evidence of our evening together continued to greet me.
Two glasses in the sink, breadcrumbs from our late-night sandwiches scattered on the counter.
We had gone a little feral after sex. Both of us realized we were starving.
If anyone would have walked in on our half-dressed asses, they would have thought they were encountering human-sized raccoons.
Joy tended to spend time here at my place rather than at her aunt’s house. I was beginning to understand why I looked forward to her visits so much. She filled the space with life in a way I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. My house had been quiet for so long that I stopped noticing the silence.
But Joy brought laughter with her. She brought the kind of comfortable conversation that could stretch for hours.
She brought the warm presence of another person who wanted to be here.
Knowing she chose to spend her free time in my living room watching old movies and stealing the last cookie from the plate did something funny to me.
I hated to make comparisons, but she was so unlike Lynn.
She was perfectly content just being with me.
Lynn had been exhausting. When we weren’t wedding planning, it was dinners.
When it wasn’t dinners, she wanted to travel.
It was a wonder I didn’t go fucking broke trying to keep up with her. I supposed I should look for the silver lining in getting dumped at the altar. I had saved a shit ton of money over the last year.
Joy’s parents had chosen her name well, I thought as I loaded the dishwasher. Joy Murphy was exactly what her name suggested—brightness and warmth and the kind of happiness that seemed to spread to everyone around her.
Her joy was contagious.
The realization hit me like a cold splash of water.
She’d only been back in town for a couple of weeks, and already she was starting to feel indispensable.
Already I was planning my days around when I might see her next and arranging my schedule to maximize our time together.
I felt disappointed when work or other obligations kept us apart.
That was too fast. Way too fast.
I forced myself to take a mental step back and examine what was happening here.
I was rushing into this, throwing myself headfirst into feelings that I should be approaching with more caution.
I’d always been a fool when it came to love—too quick to trust, too eager to believe in happy endings, and way too willing to hand over my heart before I knew if it would be safe.
That particular trait had nearly destroyed me once before. I needed to slow down, take a breath, make sure I was on steady ground before I let myself fall any deeper.
But God, it was difficult when Joy was always on my mind. When I found myself checking my phone constantly, hoping for a text from her. When I felt a flutter of anticipation every time I thought about the next time I’d see her.
I moved through my morning routine on autopilot, my mind wrestling with the contradiction between what I knew I should do and what I actually wanted to do.
The smart thing would be to put some distance between us and slow down whatever was building.
I needed to make sure we were both thinking clearly.
She’d been through some shit, and I was still in limbo after the Lynn thing.
Were we really ready to dive into something?
The problem was, I didn’t want to slow down. I wanted to accelerate. I wanted to see where this could go. I needed to find out if what I was feeling was as real as it seemed.
I found myself standing in my bedroom, staring at the dresser where I kept my clothes. Without really thinking about it, I opened the bottom drawer—the one I used for winter sweaters I rarely wore—and began moving items to other locations.
Should I offer Joy a drawer? Somewhere to keep a change of clothes, maybe some toiletries? The thought had crossed my mind more than once, especially since she’d been spending so much time here.
No. Definitely too fast. Way too fast for someone who’d been in town for two weeks and who might not even be staying permanently.
But even as I told myself it was a terrible idea, I found myself clearing out the drawer completely, creating a space that would be perfect for someone else’s belongings.
There. If the subject came up, I’d be ready. If it didn’t, Joy never had to know that I’d prepared a space for her in my bedroom.
I finished getting ready for my shift at the firehouse, pulling on my uniform and checking that I had everything I needed.
The firehouse was already bustling with activity when I arrived, the day shift preparing for handoff and the night crew finishing up their reports.
I made my way to the kitchen, where I found Katrina sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and what appeared to be detailed notes scrawled on a napkin.
“Planning the overthrow of the government?” I asked, nodding toward her notes.
“Something like that,” she replied with a grin. “Actually, I’m planning a girls’ night with Joy tonight. We’re going to paint our nails, drink wine, and discuss all the ways men are dogs.”
The disappointment that hit me was surprisingly strong, though I tried to hide it behind a casual expression. I’d been looking forward to seeing Joy again, maybe convincing her to come over for a sleepover.
“Sounds like a hoot,” I managed.
“Oh, it will be.” Katrina’s grin widened. “I imagine we’ll drink too much and talk shit about you for at least half the evening.”
“Oh, great. And is that your list of all my character flaws?”
“No, but that’s a fantastic idea.” She studied my face with that twin intuition. Twintuition. “You’re disappointed you won’t see her tonight.”
It wasn’t a question, and there was no point in denying it. “Maybe a little.”
“Cooper.” Katrina’s voice gentled, taking on the tone she used when she was about to say something important. “Can I ask you something?”
I settled into the chair across from her, recognizing the signs that this was going to be one of our serious conversations. “Shoot.”
“Are you happy?”
The question surprised me in its simplicity. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you happy? Really happy, not just content or getting by, but actually happy?” She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Because I haven’t seen you like this in, damn, Cooper, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Humming Christmas carols. Smiling at your phone when you think no one’s looking. Volunteering for community events instead of finding any excuse to escape.” She gestured toward me. “You’re different since Joy came back. You’re lighter.”
“Just to be clear, I didn’t volunteer. Chief made me safety coordinator. And I’m not humming.”
“Not now, but you were,” she said.
“Well, I guess I am happy,” I admitted.
“Good.” Katrina’s smile was bright like she just won ten bucks on a scratch ticket. “Because you deserve to be happy, Cooper. You deserve to find someone who sees how incredible you are and wants to build something real with you.”
“And you think Joy might be that someone?”
Katrina was quiet for a moment, considering the question with the seriousness it deserved.
“I think Joy cares about you. I think she sees the real you, not just the professional facade you show most people. And I think she makes you remember who you used to be before…” She trailed off, but we both knew she meant before Lynn had ripped my heart out, stomped on it, and then attempted to cremate what was left.
“But?” I could hear the qualification coming.
“But I also think you need to be honest with each other about what you want. About whether she’s planning to stay, about whether you’re ready for something serious and all the practical details that matter when feelings get this intense this quickly.”
She was right, of course. The conversation I’d been avoiding with Joy was the same one Katrina was gently pushing me toward now. We couldn’t keep floating in this bubble of attraction and possibility without eventually addressing the reality of our situations.
“I know,” I said. “We’ll talk. Soon.”
“Good. Because, Cooper, if this is real—and I think it might be—then it’s worth fighting for.
It’s worth taking the risk.” Katrina reached across the table and squeezed my hand, the gesture carrying all the love and support that came with being twins.
“But if you’re going to fight for it, you need to know what you’re fighting for. ”
She was right about that too. I needed to figure out what I actually wanted from Joy, what I was hoping this relationship could become. And I needed to be brave enough to find out if she wanted the same things.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Anytime, Cooper.” She stood up, gathering her notes and coffee cup. “Now, I should probably head home and get ready for tonight. These nails won’t paint themselves, and I promised Joy I’d bring the good wine.”
“Be nice to me in your shit-talking session,” I called as she headed toward the door. “Make sure to mention I have nice hair.”
“I make no promises,” she replied with a laugh. “But I’ll try to be nice.”
I groaned. “And no bringing up embarrassing childhood stories. If you tell her about that stupid snake prank when we were camping, it will be game on. I will post that video of you when you got your wisdom teeth pulled.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned to look at me. “You wouldn’t dare. You told me you deleted that.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. Only one way you’ll find out.”
She held her hands up in surrender. “Truce?”
“Truce.” I nodded. “Now go have fun at your slumber party, butthead.”
She stuck her tongue out at me and walked away.