Chapter 24 Cooper, Boone, Wade, Wyatt, Levi #5
My analytical brain was used to making sense of everything. Adding. Subtracting. Balancing the books and finding stubborn pennies hiding in carefully written rows. But this? This wasn’t something a guy could make sense of with a calculator and a trash can full of snapped pencils.
I’d been sleeping since about eleven, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.
I pressed my back against the bedroom door, feeling the solid wood behind me like an impossible barrier between worlds—our familiar ranch life on one side, and whatever new reality her arrival had created on the other.
Her Omega perfume flowed around me, fainter now but still present, mingling with the stale coffee from the mug Wyatt left behind and the familiar scent notes of our home.
I catalogued these sensory inputs methodically, as was my nature, trying to discover where they led, and what they meant for our future.
I needed predictable patterns to function, but there was nothing predictable about the way her presence had instantly rewritten every equation that governed our lives.
Wyatt had briefed me before taking his leave—no movement from within, no sounds beyond the soft rhythm of sleep-steadied breathing. I nodded, accepting the information without commentary. What was there to say that hadn't already been said?
I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion settling into my bones in such a resolute way that I wondered if it would ever leave again.
When I dropped my hands, starbursts bloomed behind my eyes. When they faded, the day's events replayed, every detail precisely preserved.
Pulling up to the small airport.
Tumbling out of the truck.
Walking slower than we wanted to towards the plane with the bold lettering. EROS.
Seeing her for the first time.
Her face covered, and her wrists bound.
The way she’d torn the hood off was seared into my brain.
High cheekbones.
Expressive eyes.
Freckles and ginger curls.
How I’d felt like I was dying on the drive home, so close to her, yet unable to touch.
The steady tick of the grandfather clock in the living room marked the passing minutes.
Four-fifteen. Four-thirty. The house breathed around me the way it always did.
Our home, a living thing that felt just as much a member of our pack.
My head nodded once, twice, my body betraying me despite my determination to remain alert.
I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until a soft nudge at my shoulder jolted me awake. Disoriented, I blinked up into Cooper's face, his expression caught between amusement and concern.
"Morning, sleeping beauty," he murmured. “You and I are both getting kicked off guard duty.”
He pushed a steaming mug of coffee my way. The rich aroma cut through my foggy brain, bringing me back to full awareness with embarrassing speed.
"Shit," I muttered, accepting the cup while casting a guilty glance at the still-closed door. "What time is it?"
"Just past six," Cooper replied, his voice low. "Don't worry. No jailbreaks on your watch. I just heard the bed creak."
I winced at his choice of words, though they weren't inaccurate. What else could you call guarding someone's door to prevent escape? The thin veneer of protective concern we'd layered over our actions felt increasingly inadequate in the harsh light of morning. Had we really done it to protect her?
“Come on, let’s get you some food.” He offered me a hand, and I took it, letting him help me stand. My legs were numb; I shook them out to drive away the tingling. The smell of bacon sizzling drove the last of the drowsiness away.
“Stress cooking?” I asked, following him slowly when he started backtracking to the kitchen.
"Figured she might be hungry," he quietly tossed over his shoulder. "After everything she’s been through." His guilt, though unspoken, hung in the air. After everything I put her through.
Cooper was going to blame himself more deeply than ever.
I found myself regretting the way we’d all been giving him hell over Eros.
At first, we’d all been maddened that he’d spent the money and signed us up without our consent.
Then, we’d all been so disappointed and depressed after months of waiting, that we took it out on him.
Cooper had paid his dues, ten times over by now.
Nelly didn’t know that though.
She had no idea how much he suffered because of his choice.
How much we all suffered.
“I know, bacon can’t solve this problem.” He assumed what I was thinking and countered it.
“No, probably not. But doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Never hurts to try,” he breathed out.
I nodded, taking a sip of the coffee. It was strong and pitch black, with just a hint of cinnamon.
Perfect, as always, the same way he’d been making it for me since college.
Though, back then, we’d had thrift store pot with a sizeable chip in the carafe.
Cooper had pulled some dumbass moves and bought some bullshit things, but no one could deny he had a heart of gold.
He was an open book, loving people fully.
"The others up yet?" I asked as we rounded into the living room.
"Wade's out doing a morning check on that heifer, said the baby was still breach yesterday.
Wyatt's outside on the phone with the contractor about the main house, raising hell over some backordered fixtures.
Boone's in the shower. Has been for a ridiculous amount of time.
" Cooper beelined for the stove, pushing a griddle back onto the gas burner and turning the heat back on.
After a few moments, he poured batter onto the sizzling surface.
I settled at our worn-out round table while he flipped hot cakes and browned more bacon.
The kitchen was Cooper's territory. Though, this morning I noted the subtle signs of his distraction.
His hands occasionally stilled mid-task, his gaze drifted toward the window before his attention was called back by the smell of something burning, and he left the faucet going to rinse the pancake batter bowl for so long that I finally got up and shut it off for him.
“You okay, Coop?” I wrapped my arms around him from behind as he began mixing cinnamon and brown sugar into softened butter.
“Fine,” he said, trying to sound normal.
I tugged him into my body. “You’re definitely not fine.”
Her effect on him was obvious, as it was on all of us.
“Think she’s awake now?” He changed the subject.
“It’s what? Pushing seven?” I glanced over at the big clock.
“Maybe it’s too early…” his voice trailed off, his Alpha scent shifting with disappointment.
“Let’s take her a tray anyways,” I suggested. “We’ll knock, and if she doesn’t respond, no harm done.”
I watched as he assembled a tray with meticulous care, filling it with a stack of buttered pancakes, crisp bacon, and fluffy eggs.
Lastly, he added fresh-squeezed orange juice and a bowl of washed berries.
A peace offering disguised as breakfast. He looked at the food for a moment, gave a satisfied nod, then lifted the tray and headed out of the kitchen, his steps deliberately measured.
I followed at a distance, then stopped at the archway between the hall and our living room.
Outside her door, Cooper balanced the tray on one arm and knocked gently.
“Nelly, I made some food," he called softly.
No response came from within.
“I’ll set it on the floor.” Cooper carefully set the tray down, then backed away, joining me in the doorway. We waited in silence, neither of us willing to leave, both watching his bedroom door and hoping she’d put us out of our misery and take the food.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Twelve.
The food was going cold. I wondered if we should warm it.
But I couldn’t move. Likewise, Cooper was glued to the spot.
Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes, the door cracked open tentatively.
A heartbeat later, it opened enough for a pale hand to snake out, quickly grasp the edge of the tray, and pull it inside. The door closed immediately afterward, clicking into place.
Cooper and I let out a collective exhale, tension draining from our shoulders. It was a small victory, but significant. She'd accepted something from us—not trust, not forgiveness, but at least sustenance.
By the time we returned to the kitchen, the others had gathered. Boone, fresh from the shower, his long hair still damp. Wyatt, phone in hand, looking more tired than I'd seen him in months. And Wade, sport a few bits of hay stuck in his mullet and smelling faintly of barn.
"She took some food," Cooper announced, a hint of pride in his voice.
Relief spread across their faces, a mirror of what I felt myself. Wade's shoulders relaxed visibly. "At least she's going to eat something," he murmured, hand reaching for the percolator for a fresh pour. His hand shook a little as he tilted the carafe.
"What's next?" Boone asked, his dark eyes serious as he leaned against the counter. "Will we need to watch her door again tonight?"
Wyatt, expression caught between resignation and resolve, ran a hand through his hair.
“Let’s just make that decision when the time comes,” he breathed out, not bothering to sugar his coffee like normal, and immediately taking a long sip that made him wince from the lava-like temperature.
"We should show her the property today," I suggested, thinking aloud, working out the risk factors and the safest approach. "Let her see what she's dealing with. The terrain, the distance to town, the potential dangers. Maybe then she’ll be willing to find a better solution.”
"Better solution?" Cooper asked, his brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
I hesitated, aware that I was treading into sensitive territory. None of us wanted to think about her leaving. “If she’s determined to leave…”
I didn’t finish the statement. We all could fill in the missing parts.
The silence that followed was heavy.
What would happen if she never accepted us? What if the millions we'd invested resulted only in a woman who hated us? Was it a choice between betraying our moral code to keep her, or experiencing the agony of having her vanish from our lives?
Shit, she’d only just gotten here.
How could the thought of her leaving cause such stabbing pain in my heart?
It wasn’t logical.
Wasn’t rational.
Nelly had scrambled our good senses.
And was now an unpredictable variable in our carefully constructed world.