Chapter Eleven
Cooper
I don’t let her get far.
She’s already halfway across the parking lot when I catch up to her. She’s moving fast, like she can outrun me if she doesn’t look back. The breeze sends her hair flying in all directions. She’s digging through her bag for her keys, shoulders hunched in defeat.
I call her name once, but she doesn’t slow down.
She quickly shoves her keys into the lock on the door and fights against the wind to pull the door open.
When I’m only a few steps out, that’s when I notice her car.
It’s parked crooked in the space. Rust covers the floorboard and around the edge of the doors. The side mirror is cracked, and the bumper looks like it’s being held on by duct tape.
“Brinley—” I say again, this time sharper than before.
She whirls around. Tears fill the brim of her eyes, but she blinks them away. She holds her hand up in the air, trying to block out the wind, and I tell myself that’s what’s causing her eyes to water.
“What, Cooper?”
I gesture toward her car before I can stop myself. “You mean to tell me you’re living above the bar, alone. And to top it off, this is what you’re driving?”
Her jaw clenches, and her eyes flash in anger. “It gets me where I need to go. It brought me here to Rixton, didn’t it?”
“That’s not the point,” I say, heat creeping into my voice despite my best efforts. “The point is I don’t like it.”
She scoffs. “You don’t get to like it or not like it. And guess what? I don’t care one way or the other.”
“I know Dave,” I say, forcing myself to slow down.
“I trust him. He’s a good guy and would do everything he could to keep that place safe.
But it’s still a bar. People drink and get stupid, and you—” I stop myself before I say something I can’t take back.
“You shouldn’t be there, dealing with it by yourself. ”
“I am dealing with it,” she fires back. “Just like I’ve been dealing with everything on my own for most of my damn life.”
“The point I’m trying to make is you don’t have to do it alone.”
I exhale through my nose and try again.
“The apartment at my family’s place is the same place I grew up.
It’s furnished with a bed, couch, kitchen.
You name it. They use it as a guesthouse when family comes into town.
You wouldn’t need to buy anything but maybe groceries.
You wouldn’t be cold, sleeping on a fuckin’ air mattress.
And you wouldn’t have to worry about who’s in the alley behind your place at night. ”
Her grip tightens on her keys.
“I’m not moving in with you,” she says quietly.
“You wouldn’t be,” I counter back. “I’m not even there half the time. I live at the hockey house. It’s separate from the main house, and it’s private.”
She studies me like she’s waiting for me to fill her in on the fine print.
“For how long?”
“As long as you need,” I say, then correct myself quickly to be convincing. “Short term. Just until we figure out who was behind the other night and you get on your feet. The end of the semester, if you want.”
That part is true.
I already know I’m negotiating with her. Framing every word carefully, saying whatever I have to say to get her somewhere safe. We can argue about the rest of it later.
“I don’t need you looking at me like some kind of charity case.”
That almost makes me feel worse.
“This isn’t charity, Brinley, and you know that,” I say. “It’s a favor. One I’d offer to anyone.”
That’s a lie.
I wouldn’t offer this to just anyone. I wouldn’t be standing out here arguing in what looks like a thunderstorm rolling through with anyone else either.
She stares at me for a long moment, conflict flickering behind her eyes. I can see how much she hates feeling cornered, and the implication that she can’t handle this on her own.
I hate that I’m the one doing this to her too.
“I’m not trying to upset you,” I say, stepping closer to her, quieter now. “I just… I don’t want to wait until something worse happens and wish I’d said and done more.”
That’s the truth.
The wind cuts between us, rattling the tape hanging off the edge of her bumper.
She doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t say no either.
She just stands there, keys clenched in her fist, staring at the ground.
I watch her turn and climb inside her car, shutting the door with a loud click.
The engine rattles to life. She hesitates before putting it in gear, and I hear the window groan as she lowers it a minute later.
The fight drains out of her shoulders a little at a time.
“I’ll think about it,” she says. “Okay?”
I nod once. “Okay.”
“I have to work,” she adds. “I really do need to get going.”
Every instinct in me wants to push harder, wants to resolve this now, but I don’t.
“Yeah,” I say instead. “I know. We’ll talk soon then.”
I don’t bring up when or how. She gives me a look I can’t quite read, then rolls up her window. I stand there, watching as she pulls out of the lot, one of her taillights cracked as it disappears down the road.
Eventually, I turn and cut across the parking lot toward my truck and head back to the hockey house.
The door barely shuts behind me before the questions ensue.
“All right, spill it. Don’t make us drag it out of you. What happened the other night?” Owen says.
“No kidding. What’s with you bringing back Coach Dawson’s daughter?” Kade adds, his voice sharp.
I drop my keys on the counter and turn to face them.
Kade stands near the breakfast bar, his arms crossed. Owen leans against the back of his chair, his expression serious. Talon sits on the couch, turned toward us.
“Relax,” I say. “It’s not what you think.”
Owen lifts a brow. “Then what is it?”
I exhale slowly, weighing what to say and how much to tell them.
“She’s being followed,” I say. “After she left the party the other night, I went with her to make sure she got home safely. She lives in a loft above Broken Saddle.”
I conveniently leave out the part about how I followed her and Sasha back there.
“She was cornered in the alley behind the bar. I was there when it happened.”
The room stills. I have their attention now.
Kade’s posture shifts immediately. Owen’s jaw locks.
“She was cornered, how?” Kade asks.
“Well, it was more like she was shoved against the side of the building. Some guy dressed in all black. He took off when I stepped in to help her.”
“That’s not nothing,” Talon mutters.
Kade drags a hand through his hair. “There’s more.
After we talked the other night, I went back through the files Reed sent a few months ago, when we were digging into Wren’s dad and his business deals.
I had him take another pass, see if anything we missed would stand out now.
He also looked into Coach Dawson after everything with Gavin. ”
My head snaps over to him, my gaze narrowing sharply. “What kind of more are we talking about?”
He hesitates, glancing over at Talon before continuing, “After everything came out with Wren’s dad, we didn’t stop looking into the board. Coach Dawson’s name kept popping up. Reed looked into one of the payments and discovered her mom, Dianne Taylor. Turns out, she’s kept a low profile.”
My stomach twists. “Low profile, how?”
“Brinley never took Dawson’s last name. She’s always gone by her mom’s. There’s no public connection tying her to him. Nothing linking her to Rixton through Dawson.” He gestures between us. “Which makes this… a problem.”
“No one knows she’s here,” I say immediately. “That’s the thing. She said she didn’t tell anyone she was coming. Not even her mom.”
Talon’s eyes narrow. “Why wouldn’t she tell her mom?”
I shrug. “I didn’t push it. She was already on edge with my questions.”
“Well, if no one knows…” Talon’s jaw tightens. “Then someone’s been watching her.”
I already suspected it, but that thought lands harder than anything else.
“I talked to my dad,” I add. “He agreed to let her stay at the farm. In the apartment above the barn.”
Kade’s eyebrows lift. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
The look they exchange says everything.
“You wouldn’t do that for just anyone,” Owen says, too casual for how concerned his expression is.
I turn on him. “Bullshit. You’d all be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes or if this were your girlfriend.”
Kade blinks. Talon tilts his head slightly, studying me in a way that makes my jaw clench.
“That’s not what we’re surprised by,” Talon says slowly. “We’re surprised you already see her that way.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.
I don’t know how it happened in the span of less than a week.
Somewhere between the night at the bar and the alley, between the way she shook in my arms, then fell asleep next to me. Somewhere between the way she fought me in the hallway of Broken Saddle and in the campus parking lot, I’ve developed feelings for this girl.
I rake my hand through my hair. “I just don’t want her hurt.”
Kade lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s what we’re talking about. It’s not like you to make this your problem, especially when you barely know the girl.”
The room falls quiet again. I want to tell them to fuck off. I’ve never stuck my nose in their relationships. Maybe I’ve given them shit, but I’ve never put them through the third degree.
Talon turns on the TV and switches to ESPN to the game highlights. Owen’s phone vibrates, and he pulls it out to check who it is. Kade’s eyes meet mine again, and he claps me on the shoulder as he passes by me.
I head upstairs and shut my door, the noise from the house fading into the background.
Usually, I welcome the chaos because it keeps my head busy enough not to linger anywhere too long.
Tonight, I need something to shut my brain off.
I fire up my Xbox and log in, letting the startup menu glow to life. I settle in my chair, my headset resting around my neck, adjusting the controller in my hands.
The lobby loads, and I queue it up without thinking. Muscle memory takes over.
Then a notification pops up with a new message. I click on it, and it’s from CerealKilla. So much has happened in the past few days that I had forgotten I messaged her to check in.
I open it.
CerealKilla: I’m alive. You get bored carrying everyone without my help?
My chest loosens, and I type back without thinking.
It’s hard to carry when the squad disappears on me.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
CerealKilla: Don’t tell me you’re struggling without me.
A smirk tugs at my mouth.
Maybe.
I hover over her profile. She’s showing offline, but I can see the three dots appear again as she’s typing.
CerealKilla: Look at you admitting it.
I play a few rounds while we exchange a few messages. Mostly, I let the noise and focus drown out things in my mind. It’s like being on the ice. I’m able to move on instinct, block shots, and make calls. It’s what I’m good at. It comes naturally to me.
My eyes keep drifting to the clock in the corner of my screen. The bar closes earlier on Monday nights. Near the end of a match, I check the time again.
Brinley’s shift is almost over. The thought of her walking outside and up to the loft alone has me backing out to the lobby. I open my chat with CerealKilla. She’s still showing offline, but the replies keep coming like she’s right there.
I frown at the screen for a second before typing anyway.
Gotta run. I’ll catch you later.
A response pops up almost immediately.
CerealKilla: You losing that bad that you’re already done for the night?
I smirk, hesitating for a minute.
Got somewhere to be. Hit me up when you’re back online, and we’ll run another one together.
I shut everything down and set my controller on my dresser. Grabbing my keys, I pull on my jacket and pocket my cell phone.
My pulse kicks up at the thought of seeing Brinley again.
The house is quieter than it was earlier. Owen’s light is on as I pass his room, the low glow spilling into the hallway, but Talon and Kade are gone. I don’t stop to explain myself. I don’t owe anyone a play-by-play.
I step outside, the door clicking shut behind me as the wind cuts through, sharp enough to wake me up.
I don’t know what Brinley’s going to say when I see her. I don’t know if she’s going to shut me down or surprise me by letting me in. I don’t know if she’s ready to trust me or if I’ve already pushed too far.
All I know is I need to be there when she clocks out.
And maybe—if I’m lucky—she’ll let me walk her home, help her pack up whatever she’s been carrying alone, and follow me out to the farm.
Because this time, I’m not asking her to run.
I’m asking her to stay.