Chapter 32
RYAN
I’m worried sick until Cooper’s text finally comes through. Knowing she had to face Brad unprepared makes my stomach churn.
I head to the parking garage. It’s freezing out, but I don’t care. Ten minutes later, her car pulls in. Even from here, I can tell she’s been crying. I run a hand through my hair, rushing to meet her.
I open her door just as she wipes under her eyes. She steps out, and I pull her into me, practically knocking her off her feet.
She buries her head in my chest, fists clutching my shirt. She doesn’t make a sound, but her shoulders shake with silent sobs.
“Jesus, Coop.” I stroke her hair, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Hey, it’s okay. I got you.”
She nods, but the tremble in her body tells me she’s far from okay.
“Let’s get you inside, alright? Do you want to pop the trunk? I’ll grab your things.”
“I don’t have anything.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, raw and defeated.
I rub her back, shutting my eyes for a moment. What the hell did he do? “Okay, let’s go in.” I take her hand, holding it tightly. She needs to know she’s safe here—that I’m safe.
We head up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom, where I brought her suitcase up from earlier. Damn. She’s been living out of that same bag since before Christmas. It’s mid-January now, and I know she was looking forward to grabbing more of her clothes for work.
She immediately starts rummaging through the suitcase, pulling out toiletries. I grip the back of my neck, trying to read her. “You know, I probably should’ve asked—do you want your own space? I can set you up in one of the guest rooms if you’d prefer.”
She stops rummaging, her brows knitting together as her eyes lock on mine. “Wherever you are, is where I want to be.” She stands, walking over to me, placing her hands on my chest. “Of course I want to stay with you.”
I cradle her face, my thumb brushing softly over her cheek. “What happened?”
She hesitates, her voice flat and distant. “Brad was there. I told him we were done. He said some really nasty things.” Her gaze drifts away, and my chest tightens at how detached she seems—like she’s left her body, and all that’s left is this shell.
“He threatened me, broke some things…” She swallows hard. “And then I left.”
My jaw tightens. “Wait, he threatened you? What did he say, Cooper?”
She shrugs. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I say firmly, my voice rising. “Yes, it fucking matters.”
Her eyes meet mine, desperate for escape. “He had our text thread from Christmas Day printed out. You know… when we…”
“I know which one,” I say softly, my voice gentle, hoping to ease her tension. “I remember.”
She nods, her gaze falling to the floor. “He said he’d send them to our work… to your boss.”
“Coop, you know I wouldn’t give a shit if he sent those, right? God, you have to know that.”
She nods faintly. “I’m really tired,” she murmurs, staring into the distance. “Can we talk about this later? I just… I need to rest… to process everything.”
“Of course,” I say softly, rubbing her shoulders. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Thank you, Ry.” Her eyes flutter shut for a moment before she adds, “I think I’d like to take a shower. Do you mind? You don’t need to wait up. I know it’s late.”
“Not at all. Take your time, babe.” I kiss her forehead, lingering for a moment before letting her go. I watch as she gathers her things and heads into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind her.
After waiting anxiously on the bed for twenty minutes, the water’s still running. There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping without her right now. Plus, I need to brush my teeth.
I drag my hands over my face, frustration simmering. I wish Leo were here to give me some damn advice. Do I go in? Wait it out? Try to get her to talk, or let her be? Fuck, I’m not a therapist—I’ve never dealt with anything like this.
I tap on the door, loud enough for her to hear, then slip inside.
“Hey, just need to brush my teeth,” I say, gesturing to the sink. I glance at her briefly but keep my focus on the task, giving her space.
I can feel her gaze on me the entire time. When I finally turn, I’m met with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. She’s facing me, her back to the shower head. The tiled wall transitions to glass, framing her upper body.
I can’t help but stare. Yes, her glorious tits are bare, but I’m not even looking at them. I notice them—but that’s not what grips me. It’s her face. Sad, raw, beautiful. Her bloodshot eyes tell me everything: she’s been crying this whole time. Even through the shower’s steam, I can see the tears streaking her face. She looks hollow, a ghost of herself. A fierce need to hold her—to protect her—takes over me.
I pull my shirt over my head and step out of my pants, leaving only my boxer briefs. I need her to know this isn’t about sex. I walk to the shower, open the door, and step inside, never breaking eye contact.
When I reach her, I wrap my arms around her, and she melts into me. I press a kiss to her forehead, then gently tilt her chin up and kiss the tears from her cheeks. More follow, and her lips gravitate toward mine, brushing softly. I let her take the lead, offering only comfort, not pressure.
Her lips press into mine, soft and slow. Her arms slide around my neck, and it’s like something awakens in her—as if she’s been drowning, and I’m the air she desperately needs. Her kiss deepens, filled with fervor, slow but purposeful.
I match her intensity, cradling her head with one hand, pouring every ounce of care I have into the kiss, as if I could somehow draw out her pain. My lips trail to her jaw, her neck, and when a sob escapes her, I pull her back to me, capturing her mouth again.
We kiss in silence for what feels like an eternity, with only the sound of water hitting our skin and the tiles below.
I’m hard as hell, but that’s not why I’m here. I pull back and shut off the shower, grabbing a towel. I dry my face quickly before turning to her. Carefully, I bring the towel to her face, dabbing away the water. Then I move to her hair, wrapping the towel around it and giving it an awkward rub, causing her to smile. That smile—it’s like seeing the sun after a storm. I grin back, encouraged, and keep going, ruffling the towel over her head just to make her smile again. She does, so I continue.
Her eyes track me as I work, drying every part of her, my lips following the path of the towel, leaving soft kisses as I go. When I reach her wrist, though, I freeze. A faint bruise marks her skin, an obvious shadow of Brad’s grip. My jaw tightens, and I shut my eyes, forcing myself to breathe through the surge of anger.
Slowly, I raise her wrist to my lips, brushing a kiss over the mark as if I can erase it. She closes her eyes and I don’t linger. I can’t. Not without losing it.
I continue. I don’t know what she’s thinking—she looks almost lost, confused—but fuck, I don’t know what’s come over me either. I’m worshiping her, treating her like she’s my salvation. And maybe, in a way, she is.
When I left Beth, I couldn’t imagine feeling this way about anyone again. But Cooper—she’s filled an empty part of me with something pure and real. I kneel, drying each toe and then bringing a foot to my lips, kissing the top of it. A soft, broken laugh escapes her lips. The sound is everything—fragile, hopeful, raw. It feeds something deep inside me.
“Ryan,” she says softly, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to do this.”
I look up at her, my gaze meeting hers. “I want to.” My voice is steady, certain. Her hands comb through my hair as I slowly wrap the towel around her calf, dragging it upward, then repeating. When I reach her thighs, my breath catches, her bare pussy is right in front of me. My instincts roar to touch her, to taste her, but I shut them down. As tempting as it is, this isn’t about me—it’s about her. She’s trusting me with her pain, and I won’t ruin that by giving in to my urges.
I finish drying her, my hands steady despite the fire raging inside me, and press a kiss to her pubic bone. It’s not sexual—it’s reverent, a silent promise that I see all of her, and I’m here for more than just the physical.
Standing, I grip her hips and lift her effortlessly. She wraps around me, arms and legs clinging as if I’m her anchor.
I carry her to the bed and lay her down with care.
I’m still wet, my boxer briefs soaked. I let go, intending to dry off, but she clings to me, pulling me closer. Her lips find mine, her bottom lip sucking gently at mine before her tongue strokes in, coaxing me deeper. I collapse into the kiss, giving her all that I have.
She breaks our kiss, locking eyes with mine. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice soft, trembling. “No one has ever done something like this for me.” Her eyes search mine in disbelief, her hand gently stroking my cheek. “Ever.”
Her lips return to mine, urgent this time, her hips lifting into me. I meet her with the same intensity, my hand drifting to her tits as she tugs at my wet boxers. I peel them off and toss them aside. Our movements are slow, deliberate, each touch filled with unspoken appreciation.
God, I love her .
I’ve felt it building for days now, and I’m sure of it. I started falling for her a long time ago. She had me in that damn pool… I fell hard that night. The laughter, the connection, the magnetic pull between us—it was undeniable. We were high as kites, but what we shared was more than a physical attraction. Against all the odds—Beth, cancer, Brad, hurt, timing—we found each other.
My hand moves between her thighs, drawing a soft gasp from her lips that ignites something primal in me. God, she’s so wet. Her body arches into mine, her breath catching as I stroke her, and I feel the raw, unfiltered desire between us. She grips my shoulders, her nails digging in as if I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.
I push into her, slow and deliberate. As I fill her, a sense of completion washes over me—like she’s the missing piece to this fucking puzzle called life. I focus on her, the sounds of her moans, and the way my name falls from her lips as we come together. The moment is pure rapture, leaving me breathless.
A few minutes later, after cleaning up, we’re back in bed, her head resting on my chest. I debate whether to push her to talk, unsure if it’s the right time. Finally, I decide to try.
“Hey,” I say softly, breaking the silence.
She tilts her chin toward me but doesn’t speak.
“Tell me what happened. What did Brad say… What’d he do?”
She hesitates, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. Guilt stabs in my chest—I hate that I’m making her relive it, but I have to know.
She finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “He tried to get in my head. Said I was an average fuck, a whore—that you’d get bored of me. That you wouldn’t want me if you really knew what a slut I was…” Her voice cracks. “Stuff like that.”
“Coop, I would never.” The words rush out, my body recoiling, muscles tightening with anger.
She takes a shaky breath. “I started to believe him.” Her gaze drops as she rests her cheek on my chest. “It’s still there… gnawing at me. Like a voice in the back of my mind, whispering that if you actually knew me, you wouldn’t stay.”
“What do you mean if I actually knew you ?”
She doesn’t answer, her silence heavy.
“Babe,” I coax, keeping my tone gentle.
She sighs, rolling onto her back and pulling the sheet up to her chest. Her hands press together in a prayer, fingers touching her forehead. Eyes shut tight, she shakes her head slowly, like she’s trying to will the thoughts away.
“Babe,” I say again, softer this time, turning to my side to face her. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”
Her eyes meet mine, but they’re clouded with fear. “I don’t want you to know these things.”
I pause, choosing my words. “I’m not going to push you, but…” I cup her cheek gently, my thumb grazing her skin. “I want to understand.”
She takes a deep, trembling breath, rolling to her side so we’re eye-to-eye. Her gaze locks on mine for a moment before she speaks. “I’m afraid,” she admits. “I’m afraid that if you know certain things about me… about my past… you won’t—” She swallows hard, blinking rapidly as tears threaten. “You won’t want to be with me.” She closes her eyes tightly, shaking her head. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispers, the words breaking on a sob.
“You’re not going to lose me.”
“No.” Her voice catches, and she takes another shaky breath. “You don’t understand. I’m not a good person, Ryan. Not like you.” A tear escapes, rolling down her cheek. “You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve someone like you. And when you know how…” She trails off.
My brows pull together as I force a smile, hoping to ease her fears. “Hey,” I say, my thumb brushing away the tear on her cheek. “Don’t you dare break up with me before I have the chance to make you my girlfriend.”
Her hand moves to cover mine on her cheek, and I let my words settle.
“See?” she says, a laugh breaking through her tears. “You’re too good. God. Where did you come from?”
I lean in and kiss her fiercely, cupping her face in my hands. “You can tell me anything. I don’t care about your past. I care about the person you are now. I don’t scare that easily.”
She nods, but her eyes still hold doubt. “Are you sure? Because you left Beth after twelve years… and she made one mistake. I’ve made a hundred.”
Fuck. That lands hard, straight to the gut, but I push the feeling aside.
I take a steadying breath. “Coop… just tell me.”
She hesitates, biting her lip, then whispers, “Fine. But I feel like I should start packing now… for when you ask me to leave after.”
I sigh, moving closer. “Come on. Have some faith in me.”
“Okay.” She hesitates. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Kind of a funny story, actually. The first time I gave a blow job, I didn’t even know what it was.” She lets out a hollow laugh, the kind that makes my stomach twist. “I had a crush on this guy, Jared, and his friend Gavin told me if I blew him, he’d get Jared to ask me out. Said Jared liked me but didn’t think I was interested. I was fourteen. I didn’t even know what he meant. So, he pulled his dick out, and I blew on it.”
I smile softly as her laugh fades into an uneasy silence. In a different context, it might be funny, but this? Not in the slightest.
“Of course, Jared didn’t ask me out. Not at first. But he did ask for sexual favors—promised he’d make me his girlfriend if I gave him a blow job, or let him go down on me…” She pauses, her voice cracking. “Or if I slept with him.”
Tears streak down her cheeks, faster now, and I feel like my chest is caving in. “He eventually made me his girlfriend, you know, because then he could have sex with me whenever he wanted. Not that it stopped him from sleeping with everyone else. I was a freshman, and he was a junior, captain of the JV football team. Girls threw themselves at him, and he didn’t turn them down.”
This kid was a complete piece of shit. “Why didn’t you break up with him?” I ask softly, anger burning beneath my words.
“I tried,” she says softly. “We’d fight, and I’d threaten to break up with him. Then he’d talk me into staying—tell me he loved me, that he’d do anything for me, get me anything. God, I was so young, so naive.” She pauses, glancing at me like she’s bracing for judgment, but I stay silent, letting her continue.
“I realized I had something those other girls didn’t—experience. I knew him, knew what he liked, what he didn’t. And even though he had power over me, I learned I could use sex to get what I wanted. If he cheated and still wanted sex from me? Fine. Take me shopping first. It was sick, but it worked until he left for college and broke up with me.”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “At that point, I was just known as Jared’s girlfriend. Everyone knew who I was and that I put out. The guys who asked me out all expected something, and I had this ‘fuck them’ attitude. Like, ‘You want to use me? Fine, I’ll use you.’”
Her laugh is brittle, a sharp edge of self-loathing in it. “Basically, all through high school, I was a bargaining chip for guys. The good ones never asked me out—they weren’t the type to date someone like me. And when I did have a boyfriend, he was never faithful.” She scoffs. “I was such a shitty teenager. I’d sneak off to smoke in the parking lot, and I was getting drunk at fifteen. Honestly, drinking made it easier to do what they wanted.”
She shifts, meeting my gaze briefly before looking away. “I even stole shit. I was a little thief.
“By senior year, I started to straighten out. My mom was threatening to kick me out, and my dad agreed I couldn’t live with him. They both expected me to get into a good college. Somehow, I’d managed to keep my grades up, but high school was hell. The girls were bitches, the guys were predators, and I just wanted to escape. So, I worked my ass off, graduated early, and got into Northwestern by some miracle—and a sorority.”
She exhales. “By then, I’d only ever been in toxic relationships. I liked sex—a lot—but the way I used it was anything but healthy. College didn’t help. My sorority was full of pretty girls who loved to party, and we had a reputation for it. I had one boyfriend, Damion, who was actually great to me, but that only lasted three months before he moved away.”
Her voice tightens as she shifts uncomfortably. “Then there was this math class I was struggling in. My professor was cute. I was nineteen, and he was thirty. I don’t know if he knew things about me or just sensed them, but one day after class, he pulled me aside and said there was a way I could bring my grade up.” She scoffs. “I bet you can guess what it was. I went along with it. We ended up together for months. He told me he loved me.”
She hesitates, her shoulders trembling as she shakes her head. Her voice cracks as she continues. “God, Ryan… I didn’t know.” Her hands cover her face, and she chokes on a sob.
My heart breaks at the sight of her. “It’s okay,” I say gently, reaching for her hand. “What didn’t you know?”
She looks at me, her eyes red, full of hurt and worry. “That he was married.” Her voice gives way. “God, I was the other woman—and I didn’t even know.”
And suddenly, everything clicks. Her pushing me to forgive Beth, her insistence on redemption, the relentless comments about men being cheaters and assholes. Jesus, she’s never known anything else.
“But that’s not even the worst part.” Her voice breaks, dropping to a whisper. “After I found out, he broke up with me. And then I met Brad. I had no idea he was friends with him. Brad knew about the affair, about how it started. He knew I’d slept with my professor to raise my grade.” She exhales shakily. “But he didn’t tell me he knew—not at first. Not until about a year in, when things started going south between us. I tried to break up with him, and that’s when he played his hand.”
Her breath hitches. “God, he was so patient. He held on to that information for over a year, waiting until he could use it to trap me. He told me I didn’t even earn my degree. That no one would hire me, knowing I’d just try to sleep my way to the top. That I was worthless, only good for one thing. That if I left, he’d destroy my reputation. He said no one would want me if they knew who I really was.”
I grip the sheet in my hand, fighting back the anger surging through my veins.
She looks away, almost ashamed. “And I stayed. I believed him. Then he got me the job with his brother, so he could keep an eye on me, make sure I wouldn’t screw around. He even told me his brother wouldn’t help me advance without me earning it.” She laughs bitterly. “When Genevieve approached me for this position, it felt so fucking good. For the first time, someone believed in me for my skills—not what I could give them. And then you were there. And now…” Her voice cracks again. “Now look at us. God, I really am what Brad says I am.”
I shift closer to her, propping myself up on my elbow. My free hand brushes a strand of hair from her cheek, and I let it rest lightly on her jaw. “Are you sleeping with me for a promotion?” I ask, my voice low but teasing.
Her eyes widen, and her lips part in shock. “No. God, no,” she whispers, shaking her head like she can’t believe I’d even ask.
“Good,” I say, my thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Because nothing you’ve told me makes me think you’re a bad person. All I see is someone who’s been through hell and met some really shitty people along the way.”
Her breathing slows, her gaze locked on mine as I speak. “And honestly? Who didn’t do dumb shit as a teenager? I mean, I walked into a Nike store once, put on a pair of shoes, and walked out like I’d just bought them. Still feel bad about it. And I was the nerdy chess club kid.”
She laughs—a small, breathy sound—but it’s real.
“But seriously, Coop,” I murmur, leaning just a little closer. “You were a kid. Your innocence was stolen from you, and it fucked with your head—made you think all that shit was normal—it wasn’t. But it’s not who you are now. You’re kind. You’re smart. You’re fucking resilient. And you deserve so much better than the crap you’ve been through.”
I let my hand cup her face, my fingers threading gently into her hair as I make her look at me. “You deserve someone who sees all of that, who loves all of that. Like I said, I don’t scare that easily. I have two sisters, I’m patient as hell… So you’re stuck with me.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for lies. “Are you serious, Ryan?”
“Serious.” I pause, thinking back. “Remember when I told you being human was sexy?”
“In Newport?” She smiles. “Yeah. I remember… You like all my humanness?”
“I love your humanness,” I say, kissing her lips. I tilt my forehead to hers, my voice steady and soft. “I’m not perfect, either, babe. But I’m serious about you.”
“You're too good to be true.” She pauses, her eyes sweeping over mine.
“If that makes me too good to be true, then I’ll just have to prove to you that I’m real.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. And for the first time tonight, I see a flicker of hope in her eyes. I press my lips to hers in a kiss that says everything I can’t put into words—a silent vow to show her, every day, that I’m here. That I’m real. And that I’m hers.
She grins against my lips. “Are you planning to prove it right now, BDR?”
I chuckle, leaning into her ear, my voice low and teasing. “You bet your ass I am.”
She laughs softly, her breath warm against my neck. “Guess I’m pretty damn lucky, then. All that giant dick, all to myself.” Her lips crash into mine as her hand slides down, wrapping firmly around my length, stroking with deliberate confidence. And just like that, I get lost in her.
Her touch.
Her smell.
Her taste.
Her laugh.
Her body.
Her lips.
Her.
I pull back, my forehead resting against hers as I catch my breath. I wrap her in my arms, holding her tight. Our bodies pressed together, the sound of our breath hanging comfortably in the air, until eventually, we fall asleep.