16. Cooper

16

Cooper

I didn't go into the rink Monday. Part of it had to do with Ashley and her stupid meeting my lawyer insisted I took. She sat across from me, her eyes filled with a malice and even a hint of desperation.

"You know this isn't over, Cooper," she spat, leaning forward, her perfectly manicured nails tapping the table between us.

"Do whatever you want, Ashley. Tell the media all the lies you want," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "They aren't true."

Her face twisted into an ugly scowl, and for a moment, I almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But then I remembered how she ditched me the second I ruined my career… by defending her honor.

"You'll regret this," she hissed before storming out of the room. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and leaned back in my chair. My lawyer shot me a sympathetic look but said nothing.

I spent the rest of the day trying to shake off the encounter, but Ashley's words lingered like a bad taste in my mouth.

And despite everything, I knew part of me stayed away from the rink to avoid Everly.

Friday replayed in my mind like a broken record. She'd come over to take care of me after I stupidly drunk dialed her twice. The concern in her eyes did something to me—made me forget who I was, or at least who I was supposed to be.

Now, sitting in the house, I stared at my skates propped against the wall. They taunted me with memories of gliding across the ice, of freedom and control—two things that felt increasingly out of reach lately.

I nursed the Mulholland Spirits Whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as I tried to drown out the chaos of my thoughts. The warmth from the fireplace barely touched me, even though I sat close enough to feel its heat. Ashley's words echoed in my mind, mingling with the image of Everly's face when I had yelled at her.

A light knock on the door snapped me out of my reverie. I furrowed my brows, confusion taking over. Who could that be?

Setting down the glass, I walked over and opened the door. There stood Everly, her hair mussed and wild, cuts marring her face. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and her dress was torn in places.

My heart stopped cold. "Killer," I breathed, unable to believe what I was seeing.

"I know you hate me," she said in a voice that barely sounded like hers, broken and raw. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I walked all this way, and I didn't… I didn't know where else to go."

I was gutted looking at her. My mind raced, heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted to break free. Anger surged through me—not at her, but at whoever had hurt her like this.

I stepped aside immediately, my protective instincts kicking in despite everything else that had happened between us. As she walked past me into the house, every step she took seemed heavy with pain and exhaustion.

Shutting the door behind her, I struggled to find my voice again. "Sit down," I said gently, pointing to the couch near the fireplace.

She moved as if in a daze and sank into the cushions. I hated that she just listened, that she didn't say a damn thing. The flickering light from the fire played across her features, highlighting every cut and bruise.

I sat down across from her, hands clenched into fists on my knees to keep myself from reaching out and touching those wounds.

"Killer…" My voice cracked despite my best efforts to stay composed. "Who did this to you?"

Silence.

She was so fucking silent.

"Everly."

Her name jerked her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes, usually so bright and curious, now looked haunted, shadows deepening their usual sparkle.

"Tell me," I said, almost begging. The words felt foreign in my mouth, as if someone else had spoken them.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. It was like the words were caught in her throat, struggling to escape. She seemed lost, unsure of where to begin or how to voice the storm raging inside her.

I leaned forward, every muscle tense with worry and frustration. "Now you're scaring the shit out of me. You literally haven't stopped talking since I met you. What the fuck happened ?"

The outburst echoed through the room, louder than I intended. But I couldn't help it. Seeing her like this—broken, silent—was tearing me apart.

Her shoulders slumped as if the weight of my question pressed down on her. She took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I… I went to a party," she finally whispered, each word like a fragile thread pulling at the fabric of the silence between us. "The one Zach invited me to."

"I thought that was Friday," I said.

"I…I saw him today at the rink," she murmured. "You weren't there. Why weren't you there? I was… I was worried about you."

My heart squeezed because despite whatever the hell she went through, I knew she meant it. I knew she was worried about me.

"He… I guess there was a party tonight too," she said. "This morning? I don't actually know what time it is."

"And?" My voice came out harsher than I meant, but I couldn't soften it now. Not when she was still holding back.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to shield against a cold only she could feel. "Everything was fine at first," she continued, eyes darting around the room as if seeking an escape route. "Then he gave me a drink —"

"And you drank it?"

Tears sprang into her eyes. "I know Holly said not to," she said. "I feel so stupid. I just thought, I thought he cared, you know? And I took the drink because I thought he would never…"

I felt a surge of rage that made my vision blur for a second. "Did he?—"

She looked at me, her big fucking eyes filled with such sorrow, I knew. I knew . That little motherfucker had raped her.

The color drained from my face, and my blood turned to ice.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could see was red.

I stood up, my fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to hit something, to break something. I wanted to make Zach pay for what he had done.

"I'm going to kill him," I said through gritted teeth.

Everly flinched at my words, and I immediately regretted them. I didn't want to scare her any more than she already was.

"No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't. I just want to forget it ever happened."

I knew that wasn't possible. I knew she would never be able to forget what Zach had done to her. But I didn't want to argue with her. I didn't want to make things worse.

"I tried to leave," she continued, eyes distant as if replaying the events in her mind. "But he was just so strong, and he put his hand over my mouth…" Her voice cracked then broke completely.

I moved without thinking, crossing the space between us and kneeling in front of her. My hands itched to touch her, but I held back, not wanting to add to her distress.

"Everly," I said softly this time, trying to anchor her back to me with just my voice. "You're safe now."

She nodded slowly but didn't meet my eyes again.

My heart ached watching her like this—so vulnerable and scared—and all I wanted was to take that pain away.

She looked up at me then, eyes filled with so much hurt that it felt like a punch to the gut.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

The weight of those words hung between us as heavy as any silence could be.

I frowned, confusion and anger warring inside me. "Why are you apologizing?"

Everly's lower lip trembled, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I… I don't understand," she said, her voice small and broken. "I thought he cared about me. Why would he just… why do people do this? Doesn't he care that he hurt me? I don't understand."

And she genuinely didn't because she didn't know cruelty. She didn't know how people really were, and I hated that this was how she had to figure it out. Her innocence, her belief in the goodness of others, had been shattered in the most brutal way possible.

"Don't fucking apologize," I growled, my voice low and fierce. "Not for this. None of this is your fault."

Everly looked up at me with those big, haunted eyes. I couldn't stand the pain I saw there, the confusion and the hurt. Without thinking, I reached out and took her face gently in my hands. Her skin was soft beneath my calloused fingers, and I could feel the warmth of her tears.

I rested my forehead against hers, half-expecting her to pull away. But she didn't flinch. If anything, she leaned into my touch, trusting me completely. Even after what she'd been through, after being violated so savagely, she still trusted me not to hurt her. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and I had to swallow past the lump in my throat.

"Come on," I said, my voice rough with emotion. "Let's get you out of these clothes and into something more comfortable."

She nodded, and I helped her to her feet. She swayed slightly, and I steadied her with a tentative hand on her waist. I didn't want to scare her, but she didn't push me away. Together, we made our way to the bedroom, each step feeling like a mile.

I led her to my bed and gently sat her on the edge.

Heading to my closet, I pulled out a shirt and handed it to her.

"Can you…" She sucked in a breath. "Can you help me?"

I nodded, clenching my teeth. Carefully, I helped remove her dress. Her body was littered with cuts and bruises, and anger sparked in me again. She didn't even have underwear, but I refused to say anything. She didn't need my anger right now.

I pulled my shirt over her head, covering her battered form.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" I asked roughly.

She shook her head. "I just… I'm just tired," she admitted. "Please don't make me leave."

"Never," I said firmly.

She swallowed hard. "Why do people do this?" she asked, her voice small. "Why do people hurt who they're supposed to care about?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Well, sugar," I said, "either because they never cared about you in the first place or because they want to hurt you before you can hurt them."

"But I wouldn't hurt anyone," she protested, her eyes wide and earnest.

"Honey, you don't realize the power you have just by being you," I told her honestly. "And sometimes that hurts enough."

She turned that piercing gaze back on me. "Would you hurt me, Cooper?"

"Absolutely," I said without hesitation. "Not like this. Never like this. But I'd break your heart before you could break mine."

"But what if I never broke your heart?" she asked softly.

I met her eyes, my jaw tight. "Look at me," I said. "Everyone tries to break me. I just don't let anyone close enough to break my heart in the first place."

She blew out a breath, her shoulders slumping. "I feel sorry for you, Cooper Sinclaire," she murmured. "What if you miss out on the love of your life because you're too scared to love someone?"

I snorted, shaking my head. If only it were that simple. If only love didn't come with the risk of shattering into a million pieces.

"I don't think it's possible to love me, darling," I said, my voice low and rough.

"Hmm, I think you're wrong," Everly murmured, her eyes shimmering with tears. "I think you're more lovable than you realize. You're here, aren't you? You let me borrow a T-shirt and you opened the door for me and you… you…"

Her voice broke, and she crawled into my lap, burying her crying face against my chest. I could smell the vanilla in her hair, a sweet scent that somehow cut through the heaviness of the moment. Her small frame felt fragile in my arms, and I tightened my hold, trying to give her the comfort she so desperately needed.

It was a strange feeling, holding her like this. I couldn't remember the last time I'd held someone so close, the last time anyone sought me out for comfort. Her warmth seeped into me, and for a moment, I forgot about the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled against my shirt. "I know I'm crying a lot and I'm going to get snot all over your shirt and I just… I just don't want you to leave. Please don't leave me."

I frowned, not understanding why it was my presence she wanted, why she wanted me of all people to be here for her. But I couldn't deny her. I couldn't deny her anything.

"Come on," I murmured, gently shifting her off my lap. "Let's get you under the covers."

She nodded, allowing me to guide her to the bed. As she settled herself, she looked up at me with those big fucking eyes that haunted my dreams.

"Will you… will you hold me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, not sure if it was the right thing to do. But the pleading look on her face was impossible to resist.

"Is that what you want?" I asked, my voice low and rough.

She nodded again. "I just want to feel safe," she said, her words hitting me like another punch to the gut.

I stiffened, not used to anyone telling me they felt safe around me. It was a foreign concept, one that I couldn't quite wrap my head around. But I couldn't say no, not after everything she'd been through.

Slowly, I crawled in next to her, wrapping my arms around her small frame. She felt so fragile, so delicate, and I was almost afraid to hold her too tightly.

"Is this all right?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes already closing. "You're comfortable, Cooper Sinclaire," she murmured, her words slurring slightly as exhaustion took over.

It wasn't long before soft snoring filled the room, and I knew she had fallen asleep. I lay there, holding her close, not wanting to leave her side.

But I knew that in an hour or two, I would have to have a long conversation with fucking limp-dick frat fuck.