12. The Code
The Code
JON
I was trying to survive Cooper’s raisin meltdown.
My body was on high alert, which was frankly a little alarming.
I wanted to fix every problem he could ever have—starting with those damned raisins.
When he’d started crying, fuck, I’d have climbed Everest if I thought there were raisins at the summit.
His hands had fisted in my shirt, his body pressed against mine, and that sweet scent had been everywhere, demanding I take care of him, pulling me to him, claiming something in me I was finally starting to understand.
I wanted to keep him so close that nothing in the world could touch him wrong. Or touch him, period.
Because he was mine.
He hadn’t pulled away when my thumb grazed along his cheek. He hadn’t even seemed to notice. Or maybe he had. Maybe he chose to let it happen.
He definitely noticed the forehead kiss.
I didn’t regret it. Not by a long shot. In fact, I had to actively resist the temptation to touch my lips.
I glanced at Cooper, who was almost asleep again.
He was . . . well, he was Cooper. I’d never met anyone as infuriating, yet he made my heart beat like it was trying to dance its way out of my chest. I was being dramatic as fuck, but I felt like I was standing on the tracks, watching a freight train storm toward me—and I had no intention of stepping out of the way.
Cooper was a beautiful, chaotic collision I was always meant to take. The one I’d keep choosing for the rest of my life.
No one else had ever mattered like him. Past hookups, the nameless, meaningless bodies, had offered temporary relief. They were faces I’d forgotten the second it was over.
Cooper, on the other hand, was unforgettable.
He was half asleep and whimpering, wearing a ridiculous oversized T-shirt with the text I’m with an idiot.
It made him giggle this morning, and I could only imagine his mirth when he’d packed it.
But the insult didn’t annoy me. It made me smile.
Besides, it was accurate—I was an idiot when it came to Cooper.
He had me wrapped around his little finger with a strength he didn’t even realize he possessed.
I looked at him again, only to notice he was wide awake and staring at me.
“Jon?” His voice was small. “What’s going on? I’m scared,” he admitted. “Something’s happening to me.”
Yeah. Something was definitely happening, to both of us, and I was starting to think I knew exactly what it was. I just didn’t know how to break the news to him.
“Are you in pain?” I asked. Every instinct was screaming at me to stop the car and pull him into my lap. “Tell me.”
“No, but I feel weird,” he said slowly. “It kind of hurts, but not really. It’s more like pressure. In my—” He cut himself off, a deep, rosy flush spreading down his neck. “Never mind.”
He fidgeted, his thighs rubbing together. Another helpless sound slipped out of him and went straight to my groin.
“Shit,” he muttered. “It’s getting stronger. I felt it yesterday too, but it went away after I slept. Now it’s back, and it’s aching.”
My mind betrayed me instantly. I saw Cooper, restless in the motel bed.
Moaning. Moving. Exposing himself to the dark.
I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached. Before I could say anything, Cooper leaned across the center console and buried his face in my bicep.
The peachy sweetness surged over me as he inhaled deeply, his nose dragging slowly over the fabric of my shirt. He let out a long, shuddering sigh.
“Why do you smell so good?” he asked, his voice wavering with genuine distress.
His pupils were so dilated that the blue was almost gone.
“Raisins,” he whispered next. “I need them.”
“What’s the next motel?” I asked quickly.
Cooper blinked as if it took effort to think. Then he grabbed his phone. “Verity Inn. Five minutes away. It’s right next to Walmart.”
I nodded. “Good. We’ll get your raisins, check in . . . and then figure this out.”
“Okay,” Cooper said softly. “I trust you.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
Cooper trusted me. After everything, somehow, he trusted me.
Did that mean he’d forgiven me? Or was he just too exhausted to remember why he shouldn’t?
It didn’t even matter. At some point, my body had simply decided he was mine to take care of.
He was my every variable, my every function.
My whole damn code.