Chapter 15 #3
“Look,” Bowen says, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “I’m just going to say this and get it out of the way. You left all of us, but the pain you put her through was… hard to watch.” He points his index finger at Copeland. “Don’t fuck this up, or we’ll have a problem.”
Copeland’s shoulders grow even more tense. “You don’t know,” he says, his voice eerily calm. “You might think that you know, but you don’t.”
“I know that I was there to wipe her tears. Tears that you caused.”
“Stop.” My voice is quiet, but they hear me, and four sets of eyes look my way. “Bowen, I love you. You’re one of my best friends, and yes, you were there for me, but this isn’t about you. This is between Copeland and me.”
“I don’t want to see you hurt that like again, Ellie. He didn’t leave just you, you know. He left all of us, and you might be able to forget that, but I can’t. What happens when you leave again?” he asks, his eyes locked on Copeland.
“I won’t hurt her,” Copeland says, his voice gravelly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve learned from past mistakes. I go where she goes.” Copeland’s voice is firm and resolute, making my chest flutter.
“Copeland’s right. You don’t know.”
“Then tell me,” Bowen says. “Tell me. Oh, that’s right…
. You don’t have to tell me; I was there.
I watched your heart break. Not just weeks or months, but years, Ellison.
Years. Now, he’s back, and everything is just okay?
The two of you are back together like the pain he caused isn’t still festering beneath the surface?
Fuck that. You left us,” Bowen says, his voice cracking, showing his pain, something he’s been hiding well all of these years.
“Bo.” I sigh. “We’ll talk soon, but I need you to understand that I’m here with Copeland because there is no other choice for me.
He and I have a lot to work through, and who knows where this will lead, but we owe it to ourselves to find out,” I tell him.
My sisters and Kinzie would be so proud of me right now.
“Fine.” Bowen drains the rest of whatever it was he was drinking, pulls out his wallet, and tosses some cash onto the table. “Enjoy your date night,” he says, standing.
“Bo,” Copeland calls, and Bowen stops and gives him his full attention.
“I love her. I’ve always loved her. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.
But I’m sorry. I’ve never said that to you, to any of you, and I’m sorry.
” Bowen nods. “But remember this, I don’t care what you helped her through.
You talk to her with respect always, or you and I will have a problem. ”
“You can’t just walk back into town and make demands. Not of me, and not of her. Not of any of us. You lost that right when you walked away from all of us.”
“I wouldn’t, and I’m not, but I’ve fucked up. I made assumptions and mistakes, and I won’t make them twice. So watch how you speak to her.”
“She’s my friend.”
“She’s my universe.”
Everything around me stills. The worry about the anger of one of my closest friends, who also used to be one of Copeland’s best friends, fizzles away, because there is conviction in his voice.
Even after all the time that’s passed, he wants me.
I feel that deep in my soul. He said I was his universe, and my heart believes him.
Bowen gives him a stiff nod and walks off toward the register.
“Well, that was fun,” Dixon says, tossing a few bills for a tip onto the table.
“He’s just worried about you, Ellison,” Macklin explains. “It was hard watching you after he left.” He, too, tosses some cash for a tip onto the table.
“I know, and I know you all have your own feelings about how he left, and he was your friend, too, but this is between Copeland and me. It’s our life, our choices.
You’re our friends. You don’t have to like our decisions, but you do have to respect them.
I appreciate how the three of you, along with Kinzie and my sisters, helped me pick up the pieces, but my heart was never really put back together.
” I glance over at Copeland. “Maybe now it will be.”
“Understood,” they both say.
“Enjoy the rest of your night. Cope, call us. The four of us need to get together,” Dixon says, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” Copeland agrees as they both walk away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, turning as much as I can in the booth to look at him. “They were there for me after you left. We all got close.”
“That explains finding you with them, laughing.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Did you ever—?”
“No. The four of us have only ever been friends.”
Copeland exhales. “Okay, good. Good.” He nods, and his shoulders relax. “Do you want to stay or go?”
I don’t even have to think about my answer.
“I want to stay,” I tell him as the waitress comes over and starts clearing plates and wiping down the booth.
When she tells us she’ll be back with menus, Copeland starts to slide out of the booth.
“I’ll move to the other side,” he says, pain lacing his voice, but I hold tight to his hand, stopping him. “Stay.”
He nods, kisses my temple, and stays. We order our food and spend the next hour talking about old times.
During it all, he never once lets go of my hand.