Chapter 44
COOPER
Isat in the firehouse kitchen staring at my phone for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, reading Joy’s text message over and over again like the words might change if I looked at them long enough.
I need some space right now. Please give me a few days to think.
Three attempts to call her, two voicemails, and four text messages had resulted in that single, devastating response.
She wanted space. After everything that had happened last night—after Lynn’s calculated ambush and Joy witnessing what looked like an intimate moment between us—Joy was pulling away.
It killed me to respect her request, but what choice did I have?
If I pushed too hard, I would push her away.
If I came on too strong, I’d probably scare her away permanently.
But if I backed off like she was asking, would I lose her anyway?
Would she use the space I was giving her to convince herself that whatever was building between us wasn’t worth the complication?
Would she think I was giving her the space because I was spending time with Lynn? Shit, I hoped not. That was the last thing I wanted. I felt like I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I had felt so confused. I usually knew what to do.
Why the hell did Lynn have to show up and ruin everything? She was like some kind of evil curse, preventing me from finding love or peace in this life. Every time I started to believe that maybe I could be happy again, she materialized to destroy whatever good thing I’d managed to build.
I had spent the night trying to think of what I did to Lynn to earn this kind of treatment. I thought I had been good to her. But shit, I must have loved her too much. That was my only crime. And it was biting me in the ass.
“Hey, Cooper,” Elijah called from across the kitchen, his voice carrying that particular tone that meant trouble was coming. “I heard you’re quite the ladies’ man these days. Two girlfriends in one small town? That’s pretty impressive.”
Tony laughed, clearly enjoying what they thought was harmless ribbing. “Which one are you taking to the New Year’s Eve party? Or are you going to bring both and let them fight it out?”
“Oh hell yeah!” Elijah laughed. “Chick fight. Jell-o or mud?”
“You’re idiots,” I muttered.
They continued to talk about what they thought might happen. The jokes weren’t funny. At least not when you were the guy in the middle.
It felt like they were trying to minimize what I felt for Joy and reduce the whole situation to some kind of soap opera entertainment. My hands clenched into fists before I could stop them.
“Shut your mouth, Elijah,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.
“Whoa, touchy subject?” Tony continued, apparently too stupid to recognize when he was crossing a line. “Come on, Cooper, you’ve got to admit it’s pretty entertaining. Caught between two beautiful women—”
I was on my feet and moving toward him before I’d made a conscious decision to do so. Pure rage coursed through me at hearing Joy and Lynn discussed like they were interchangeable pieces in some kind of game.
“Cooper!” Matt’s voice cut through the red haze of my anger just as I reached Elijah. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders, pulling me back before I could do something that would definitely result in disciplinary action. “Outside. Now.”
He practically dragged me out to the equipment bay, his grip firm enough to override my desire to go back in there and teach both of those assholes some manners.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Matt demanded once we were alone. “You can’t punch out fellow firefighters just because they’re being assholes.”
“Did you hear what they were saying?” I asked, my voice still rough with anger.
“Yeah, I heard. They were being dickheads. But losing your shit isn’t going to help anyone.
” Matt leaned against one of the trucks, studying my face with concern.
“Though for what it’s worth, I’m going to have a conversation with those idiots about keeping their opinions to themselves.
Next time they want to talk shit, I’ll let you kick their asses. Deal?”
I laughed despite myself, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “Thanks.”
“Your life is totally fucked up, bro,” Matt said with the kind of blunt honesty that only came from close friendship. “You’re supposed to be the one with your shit together.”
“My life is always in shambles,” I replied, leaning against the truck beside him.
“One disaster after another. Me and women are like oil and water. I’m apparently destined to be single or constantly hooking up with the wrong women.
I think I need to get a dog. Turn my guest room into a man cave.
I am going to step into the forever-bachelor world. Maybe I’ll learn the harmonica.”
“No,” Matt said firmly. “It’s one disaster named Lynn Ziegler. Send that bitch packing and go get the woman you actually want.”
The simple way he said it made everything seem so straightforward, like the solution was obvious and I was just too tangled up in bullshit fears to see it clearly.
“I don’t know if she wants me, though,” I admitted. “Things were just starting between us, and Lynn scared her off before we could figure out what we were doing.”
“You think Joy asked for space because she doesn’t want you, or because she’s confused and hurt and needs time to process what happened?”
When he put it like that, the answer seemed obvious. Joy was the type to think things through carefully before making decisions. The fact that she’d asked for space instead of just cutting me off entirely suggested that she was trying to figure things out, not write me off completely.
“People don’t know there is history,” I said.
“History?”
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling like an idiot for even bringing it up. “Joy and I had a thing. Kind of. Maybe. I don’t know what to call it.”
Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “A thing? When?”
“High school. Senior year. We were friends, part of the same group with Lynn and Katrina. But Joy and I…” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain something I’d never really talked about with anyone.
“There was always something there. This tension, this awareness. We’d catch each other looking, or our hands would brush when we were passing papers in class, and it would feel electric. ”
“And?”
“And nothing. The night before graduation, there was this party. Everyone was drunk and emotional about leaving for college, and Joy and I ended up sitting by the water talking.”
Matt’s grin was growing wider by the second, like he could already see where this story was heading.
“We talked for hours about everything—our fears about the future, what we wanted our lives to look like, whether we’d stay in touch after everyone scattered.
And then.” I paused, remembering that night with perfect clarity even after all these years.
“She kissed me. Just leaned over and kissed me like she’d been thinking about it for months. ”
“Holy shit,” Matt said with obvious delight. “She was your first love.”
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“Go on.”
“It wasn’t just a peck on the cheek,” I continued, my cheeks heating with the memory. “It was intense. When we broke apart, she looked at me with those eyes, and she said, ‘I couldn’t leave without doing that at least once.’”
“And then what happened?”
“And then she left the next day for college. We texted a few times that summer, but she was busy with orientation and new friends, and I was starting my EMT training. By fall, we’d lost touch completely. She built this whole life in New York, and I stayed here and eventually ended up with Lynn.”
Matt was quiet for a moment. “So you’re telling me that the woman you’re falling for now is the same woman you had unfinished business with eight years ago? The one who kissed you and then disappeared to the city?”
“I guess.”
“Dude.” Matt shook his head with amazement. “No wonder you’re so twisted up about this. It’s not just about Lynn causing drama—it’s about getting a second chance with the one that got away.”
“She didn’t get away,” I protested. “She left. She chose her career and her life in New York over whatever we might have had.”
“Stop being indecisive,” Matt continued. “Make a choice, or life will choose for you. Go after her. Prove to Joy that you can be the guy who deserves her. If you want her.”
“Yeah,” I said without hesitation. “I want her.”
The admission was filled with more certainty than I expected. Somewhere over the past couple of weeks, wanting Joy had stopped being a question and started being a fundamental truth about who I was.
“I’m not sure when it happened or how it happened so fast,” I continued, “but I can’t imagine my life without her.”
Matt grinned, the first genuinely happy expression I’d seen from him all morning. “It wasn’t fast, man. From what you’ve told me, you two had a thing for each other back in high school. This is just picking up where things left off.”
He was right. What I felt for Joy wasn’t new or sudden. It was the continuation of something that had started when we were teenagers. It was something that had been interrupted by time and distance and our own fears but had never really gone away.
“So what do I do?” I asked. “She wants space, and I’m trying to respect that, but every hour that passes feels like I’m losing her a little more.”
“You prove, in public and without doubt, that you choose her,” Matt said immediately. “Not Lynn, not some imaginary perfect woman, but Joy Murphy. Make it so clear that even the biggest gossips in town can’t misinterpret what you’re saying. She can’t be left questioning what you’re thinking.”
I thought about that for a moment, an idea beginning to form. “The last night of the Yuletide Festival. Joy will be there wrapping things up. With the festival ending, she won’t be as stressed or pulled in a hundred different directions.”
“Perfect timing,” Matt agreed. “Public venue, captive audience, and hopefully a woman who’s had enough time to think things through and realize what she wants.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“You get rejected in front of the whole town again,” Matt replied with brutal honesty. “But you survived it once. If Joy is worth having—and from everything you’ve told me, she is—then she’s worth having to survive it again.”
He was right. The humiliation of being left at the altar had nearly destroyed me, but I’d come through it. I’d rebuilt my life, learned to trust again, found the courage to open my heart to someone new. If loving Joy meant risking that kind of public rejection again, then so be it.
“Besides,” Matt added with a grin, “this time you’re not the one taking the risk. You’re not asking her to marry you or making some grand romantic gesture that could blow up in your face. You’re just telling her how you feel and letting her decide what she wants to do about it.”
The distinction was important. With Lynn, I’d built up this elaborate fantasy of what our life together would be like, proposed marriage based on what I thought we should want rather than what we actually had together.
With Joy, I just wanted to be honest about my feelings and see if she felt the same way.
“I need to go see her,” I said, suddenly feeling like every minute of delay was a mistake. “I don’t want to wait. I can’t. I have to talk to her.”
“No,” Matt said firmly. “You need to respect the space she asked for. But on Sunday night, when the festival ends and she’s had time to think things through? That’s when you make your move.”
I groaned. I didn’t want to wait. I was sick of wondering and worrying and hoping that Joy would give us a chance to figure this out together.
“What if she’s already decided to leave town?” I asked, voicing the fear that had been eating at me since last night.
I knew she had one foot out the door already.
“Then you convince her to stay,” Matt replied simply. “You remind her of all the reasons Calton Hill is home and all the reasons you’re worth taking a chance on.”
That was a lot easier said than done, but I had nothing left to lose. And everything to gain.