14. Cooper

14

Cooper

I woke up with my head pounding like a drum in a heavy metal concert. The damn headache was so fierce, it felt like my brain was trying to claw its way out of my skull. I couldn't shake the image of Everly fucking Hawthorne from my mind. The alcohol must have stripped away all the barriers, letting my fantasies roam free. And there she was, embedded in every thought.

I wasn't on the living room floor like I'd expected. Somehow, I had made it to my bedroom. Had I walked here? I couldn't remember. Everything was a blur, a messy kaleidoscope of half-formed memories and fragments of last night.

My eyes swept across the room, trying to make sense of it all. The dim light filtering through the curtains did little to help. As my gaze landed on the armchair in the corner, my heart skipped a beat. There she was—Everly.

She had to be some kind of illusion. Maybe a trick of the light or my alcohol-addled brain playing games with me.

Her hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid gold, catching what little light there was and making it shimmer. She wore a dress that rode up her legs in the position she was, revealing a flash of pale thigh. Her face was serene, lips slightly parted as she slept, completely unaware of the chaos inside my head.

Her presence felt surreal in this room full of relics from my past—trophies, posters, and old photographs that told stories of victories and losses. Yet here she was, an anomaly among the familiar, asleep in my armchair as if she belonged there.

I blinked several times, trying to clear my vision and make sense of it all. But no matter how many times I blinked, she remained there, peaceful and real.

What had happened last night? How did she end up here? None of it made sense. But at that moment, with her so close yet so far away in her dreams, those questions could wait.

I leaned back against the pillows, closing my eyes. My head still pounded but now there was another ache—a longing I couldn't quite place but knew had everything to do with Everly Hawthorne sleeping in my armchair.

I woke up again, my head still throbbing, but the room had stopped spinning. I blinked, trying to adjust to the light streaming through the curtains. The armchair where Everly had been was now empty. A mix of disappointment and relief washed over me. I wasn't sure which feeling was stronger.

I forced myself to sit up, gritting my teeth against the pain. The movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over me, and I groaned, clutching my head gingerly. It felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to my skull.

Suddenly, footsteps approached my room. I looked up, and there she was, still wearing that dress from last night, her hair a messy halo around her face. She looked like she'd just woken up, but somehow, she still managed to take my breath away.

"Coop?" she asked, her voice soft and tentative.

I winced. "What'd I tell you about calling me that?" I drawled, my voice laced with pain. "Why are you here?"

She tilted her head, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "You mean, you don't remember?" she asked.

I stared at her, trying to piece together the fragments of last night. But my mind was a hazy mess, and the harder I tried to remember, the more my head hurt.

"Remember what?" I asked, my voice rough.

She stepped into the room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. "Last night, you called me. Twice. I don't even know how you got my number, but you stopped talking while you were on the phone with me. You were pretty out of it."

"Fuck, do you ever shut up?" I muttered.

I frowned, trying to recall what had happened. Call her? Her ?

I squinted at Everly, my head still pounding. The idea of food made my stomach churn, but I couldn't deny the gnawing hunger that twisted my insides.

"I made you some breakfast," Everly said, her voice too damn chirpy for my liking. "I read up on hangovers. Did you know you dehydrate yourself by getting too drunk?"

I scoffed, immediately regretting it as pain lanced through my skull. "Of course you did," I said snidely, holding my head. "Would you get me two ibuprofen and lukewarm water?"

She frowned, concern etching lines into her pretty face. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes, instantly regretting the action as the room spun. "Darling, I know it's a great fucking idea," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, since you're here, make yourself useful."

Everly placed a hand on her hip, glaring at me with those big, expressive eyes. The gesture was so familiar, so her , that it caught me off guard.

"What?" I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.

"You could say please, you know," she said, her tone sharp.

And damn it all, she looked so cute standing there with that wrinkled dress and messy hair, her cheeks flushed with indignation. I couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at the corners of my lips.

"Fine," I said, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. " Please ."

Everly blinked, surprise flashing across her face. She straightened, as if my words had caught her off balance.

"Okay," she said, her voice softer now. "But only after you eat. You need something in your stomach."

I stared at the empty doorway, bewildered. This had to be some kind of dream. Why was she here? Thinking about it hurt, and I almost didn't want to question it because I didn't want to push her away.

I actually liked having her around. Which was all kinds of wrong.

She came back with eggs and unbuttered toast, water, and my pills.

"Here," she said, presenting her food with pride. "My mother taught me how to cook. She says the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

I took the plate. The scent was overwhelming and made my stomach twist. "Is that what you're after, sweetie?" I asked. "My heart?"

"What? No." She blushed, shifting her weight. "I just, I hope you enjoy the food."

I downed the pills before I ate.

"Hey, you're supposed to eat?—"

I gave her a look. "You talk too damn much," I said. "It's too early for your shit."

We both glared at each other. "It's twelve thirty in the afternoon," she snapped.

"Why are you here?" I asked, taking a bite of the egg. It actually wasn't bad, but my stomach protested, twisting and churning like it had a vendetta against me.

"I told you," she said. "You called me twice."

"So?" I looked at her, frowning. "That doesn't mean you show up."

"I had to make sure you were okay," she replied, her voice firm.

"Looking like that?" I dropped my eyes to her dress, the fabric wrinkled and clinging to her in all the right places.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was going to a party?—"

"That frat party," I interrupted, remembering her little discussion with that asshole earlier in the week. For some reason, this caused me to scowl.

"But I didn't," she said quickly. "When I found you unconscious, I got really worried. I saw the bottle you shattered, by the way. I picked that up. I didn't want you stepping on glass or anything. That could ruin your career."

"Newsflash, sweetie," I said, my voice dripping with bitterness. "My career is already ruined."

Everly took a breath, looking like she was about to say something but thought better of it.

"That doesn't answer my question," I continued, setting the plate down on the nightstand with more force than necessary. "Why are you here?"

"I answered it," she insisted. "I wanted to make sure you were?—"

"Why do you care?" The edge in my voice sliced through the air between us.

She stared at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable for a moment before they hardened. "Because," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully, "you're a person and you deserve to be cared about. Even if you are… even if you're not very nice."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. My instinct was to lash out, push her away before she got too close and saw too much. But something in her gaze stopped me—something raw and real that made my defenses falter for just a second.

"You don't know anything about me," I muttered.

"I know enough," she shot back. Her voice softened then, almost a whisper. "And maybe... maybe I just care because it's who I am. And not even you can change that."

I scoffed but didn't respond immediately. Instead, I reached for the glass of water she'd brought me earlier and took a long drink, using the moment to collect myself.

This girl—this sheltered little thing—had managed to slip past my defenses without even trying. And that terrified me more than any hit I'd ever taken on the ice.

"Well, you can go now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The headache still pounded behind my eyes, making it hard to think straight.

"Are you sure?" Everly asked, her brows knitting together in concern. "When I was researching hangovers, I found that alcohol doesn't leave the system right away. And judging by the amount you consumed, you could still be drunk. I don't want you to choke on your own vomit or slip and fall down the stairs."

I gave her a long look before chuckling, despite the pain it caused. "You're something else, aren't you? Researching hangovers. You'd think your daddy would teach you about stuff like that."

Her face fell, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "My dad is dead," she said softly.

My eyebrow arched involuntarily. "Is he?" I asked.

Everly nodded, her eyes downcast. Silence hung between us for a moment, heavy and awkward.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" she said before I could respond further.

I sighed, already feeling the headache intensify at the thought of more talking. "Why do I get the sense that you're going to regardless of what I say?"

"Why'd you call me?" she asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes were earnest, searching mine for answers I wasn't sure I had.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling more exhausted than ever. "I don't know," I admitted after a long pause. "Because all the things I want to say to my cunt of an ex might be held against me in court, so I just decided who else has been a pain in the ass this week, which naturally led me to you."

She frowned slightly but didn't push further. Instead, she took a step closer, her presence oddly comforting despite the tension in the room.

"Well," she said softly, "I'm here now."

I looked at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what made this girl tick. She was an enigma wrapped in layers of naivety and unexpected strength.

And for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to push her away anymore.

"Why do you need to go to court?" Everly asked, scrunching up her face. "You weren't married."

"Well, darling, she's extorting me," I said, leaning against the headboard.

"What? How?" she asked, her eyes wide with shock.

"She wants money," I said. "That's why she was with me. And because we weren't married, and she's not entitled to shit, she's blackmailing me to get money. And before you ask, because I can see you're on the precipice of doing just that, she's threatening to say I was a cheating, abusive partner."

"But that's not true!" Everly burst out, causing my eyes to widen.

"I know that," I said calmly.

"She can't do that," she said as she began pacing the room.

"She can," I replied, taking another bite of the eggs. "And she is. Apparently, my reputation makes these accusations very believable."

Everly stopped pacing and turned to look at me, her eyes blazing with anger. "But you're not like that," she said fiercely. "You're... you're rough around the edges, sure, but you're not abusive or a cheater."

I smirked at her indignation. It was touching, in a way. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "You can't let her get away with this."

"And what do you suggest I do?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," she admitted, her shoulders slumping slightly. "But there has to be something you can do to prove she's lying."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It's not that simple," I said. "She has texts, emails—stuff that could be twisted to make me look bad."

Everly's face fell, and she looked at me with a mixture of frustration and sympathy. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Don't be," I replied. "I've dealt with worse."

She didn't seem convinced but didn't press further. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers playing with a loose thread on the blanket.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this alone," she said after a moment of silence.

I looked at her, surprised by the determination in her voice. "Thanks," I said. "But it's my mess to clean up." I cleared my throat. "You should go."

Everly looked at me, her brows knitting together in concern. "Are you —"

I nodded, cutting her off. "You know," I said, my voice rough from the hangover and something else I couldn't quite name. "I can't remember the last time someone actually..."

"Took care of you?" she guessed, her eyes searching mine.

"Cared," I replied, the word hanging heavy between us.

Everly grinned, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "Is that a thank you?" she asked.

"It's a fuck off please ," I shot back, trying to muster up some of my usual snark. But even I could hear the lack of bite in my words.

We shared a smile, and my heart clenched in a way that felt foreign and unsettling.

"You shouldn't make this a habit," I said, my tone sharp but lacking its usual edge. "Playing Florence Nightingale isn't gonna do you any favors."

"All right," she said, standing up and heading back to the chair to grab her heels. She moved to the door but paused, looking back at me with those big, earnest eyes. "I'm glad you called me, Cooper."

"Coop," I corrected automatically. "You can call me —"

She let out a squeal of excitement that made my head throb even more. "Does that mean we're friends?" she asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

I clutched my head, wincing at the noise. "It means shut the fuck up, killer," I growled.

"I'll see you Monday then?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

I swallowed hard, my throat still sore from throwing up earlier. "Monday," I managed to get out.

She beamed at me before leaving the room, and for a moment, I was stunned. She didn't look at me like I was a monster or some washed-up has-been. And that scared me more than anything because I worried I'd get used to it.