Raisins #2
“I need them! I can’t live without them!”
Jon stared at me, looking completely floored, but then his expression changed into something uncharacteristically soft.
“We can drive back. Maybe the motel sells them.”
The sound of his voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
“I don’t think they sell raisins there,” I hiccuped, the tears streaming down my face.
“Cooper—hey. Come here.”
He pulled me in, and I didn’t even think about resisting. I buried my face in his chest, my fingers tangling in his shirt. I felt like I’d finally made it home.
“I really like the chocolate ones,” I sobbed into his skin.
“I know,” Jon murmured, his hand drawing slow, grounding circles on my back. “We’ll find more. I promise.”
The steady motion of his touch and the certainty in his words made my entire body limp with relief.
“Okay,” I sniffed.
“Can you wait until we find a shop?” he asked quietly, his breath stirring my hair.
I nodded against him, unwilling to move.
“I’ll just sleep until then.”
“That’s a plan,” he whispered.
I pulled back slightly, my face hot. His hand lingered on my waist, his fingers digging into my hip as if he had to force himself to let go. He reached up and brushed the tears from my cheek with his thumb, his touch unbearably tender.
“Let’s go.”
Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the center of my forehead.
Neither of us acknowledged it. That didn’t make it any less real.
* * *
COOPER, 19, five months before the trip
I was on my way to snatch cookies from the pantry when I saw Jon in the kitchen.
He was standing by the counter, his back turned, and he was laughing at something Mom had said.
I’d missed his laughter. Jon rarely laughed or even smiled, and stealing a laugh from him had always felt like a victory.
Now it felt like a slap in the face. If I’d known he was coming, I would’ve come up with an avoidance strategy as usual.
I’d forgiven nothing and forgotten nothing.
Apparently, I’d learned nothing either, because I stood in the doorway long enough for Mom to notice me.
“Hi, Cooper,” she said cheerfully, oblivious to the way Jon’s back tensed at hearing my name. “Look who’s visiting!”
“Beelzebub’s in the house. Hurray.”
Jon turned around, and everything blurred except him.
It was just us. I shook my head. There was no us.
We hadn’t talked after the party. I’d missed him terribly, and I knew I’d never get over him, but it was time to face the reality—Jon didn’t want me like I wanted him.
He’d literally held me in his lap before shoving me away like a piece of trash.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was too careful, almost gentle, and I hated it.
I didn’t want his remorse, and I sure as hell didn’t want his pity.
He had no right to look at me like I was some pathetic kid who had gotten in over his head with a real man.
Like I needed to be handled with kid gloves.
I wasn’t fragile, far from it. I was practically unbreakable, or at least I tried very hard to be.
The silence between us was unbearable. Uncomfortable. Un-everything.
I shifted my weight, and his eyes flicked down. Shame crept up my neck and made me cross my arms. Jon rubbed his face, exhaling. He clearly hated seeing me as much as I hated seeing him.
Mom tilted her head, glancing between us.
“I need to . . .” she said. “Yes.”
And then she left.
“I shouldn’t have—” Jon started.
My heart sank.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it as if you pity me.
He stared at me like he was trying to figure out which version of me he was dealing with—the brat from before or the wreck from after.
There was no before. There was only this.
“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” he finished quietly. “I went too far. But Cooper, the second you said red, I stopped.”
I got it then. He was checking his boxes.
Making sure his best friend’s little brother wasn’t going to cry.
He thought he’d shattered my boundaries, and now his twisted sense of duty was forcing him to check on the collateral damage.
I could feel the hot, shameful sting of tears, and the absolute panic of him seeing me cry made me vicious.
“Well done,” I said icily, stepping back. “The medal for following basic instructions will arrive in three to five business days.”
Jon was right. He had stopped. He just didn’t realize it had already been too late.
And it killed me to know it was on me when I needed it to be entirely on him, because he was the one who’d set it in motion.
He was the one who saw a part of me I hadn’t even known was there.
My throat felt like it was closing. I’d practically begged for the very thing that broke me, and humiliation made my hands curl into fists.
I turned away. I needed to get out. I needed air, distance, to never see Jon again.
“Coop.”
The way he said my name hurt, but I didn’t turn. I decided Jon Beckett didn’t exist to me anymore. And if I kept walking away from him, not turning, not seeing, and never again hoping, maybe I wouldn’t exist to him either.
* * *
COOPER, 18, one year before the trip
I was trying so damn hard to provoke Jon.
Getting him to notice me had never been a problem, but getting him to admit that he noticed me was a different thing entirely.
I knew he wasn’t immune. When I’d tried to kiss him a few weeks earlier, I’d seen how he wanted me.
But then he carried me to the car and basically said it was all in my head.
Tonight, he had left me no choice but to amp it up. I amped it up so much that I climbed into Luke’s lap. He was a couple of years older than me and didn’t have any illusions that it was anything but a show on my end.
He wanted me, sure, but he knew he was a means to an end.
And the end was Jon. It had always been him. From a puppy crush to something more intense, my feelings had grown and deepened and darkened. I didn’t know what he felt toward me, but I knew it was something. He refused to talk about it or do anything about it, but I was just as stubborn.
That night, he was leaning against a wall, pretending to be scrolling through his phone when I knew for a fact his attention was on me.