24. Cooper

24

Cooper

T he ache radiated from my chest, gnawing at my nerves like a wild animal. I stumbled into my room, each step a fresh jolt of agony. My fingers trembled as I reached for the light switch, but I missed it, knocking a framed photo off the wall instead. It shattered on the floor, glass shards scattering everywhere.

"Damn it!" My voice echoed through the empty house.

I grabbed the nearest thing within reach—a chair—and hurled it against the wall. The sound of splintering wood barely registered over the roar in my head. I couldn't think straight. Couldn't breathe right. Everything was falling apart.

Bookshelves became casualties next, volumes tumbling to the ground in a chaotic mess. I yanked open drawers and upended their contents, clothes spilling out in a whirlwind of fabric. The pain in my chest flared with each movement, but it only fueled my anger.

A mirror caught my eye. My reflection stared back at me, those scars etched into my face serving as a cruel reminder of not only the past but now. Of her .

I hated that face. Hated everything it represented. Without thinking, I punched the mirror, and pain shot through my knuckles, sharp and immediate. Blood smeared across the cracked glass.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I surveyed the wreckage I'd created. The room looked like a war zone—my war zone. Destruction brought some twisted sense of relief, but it didn't erase the turmoil inside me.

The bed stood untouched in the center of the chaos, mocking me with its calmness. With memories of what had happened there not even an hour ago. I tore off the sheets, flinging pillows across the room. They landed with dull thuds, insignificant against the backdrop of devastation.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. For a moment, I considered smashing it too, but instead, I sank to my knees on the cold floor, surrounded by broken pieces of my life.

The pain hadn't lessened; if anything, it intensified with each passing second. But there was nothing left to break now except myself.

Everly ruined everything. Why couldn't she shut the fuck up? Why did she… why did she…

Care? a voice in my head asked.

I clenched my teeth, grinding them together so hard it felt like they might shatter.

She cares about you , the voice insisted. She loves you. Even after everything, she looked you in the eye and said she loved you. She may be ignorant, but she's a lot more fucking brave than you will ever be.

I knew this. It's exactly why I believed I didn't deserve her love. This was a good thing. She should be with someone else, someone worthy of her.

Is that what you want? the voice pressed. You want to see her holding hands with some asshole her own age? Want to see her look at him with those big eyes like she looked at you? Like you were the goddamn moon?

Fury surged through me just thinking of her with anyone else. My vision blurred as my breath came in shallow gasps. The rage inside me boiled over, and I snatched my phone off the floor, throwing it against the wall with all my strength. The satisfying sound of it breaking echoed through the room.

The phone lay in pieces on the floor, its screen cracked and useless. It didn't fix anything. It didn't erase the image of Everly's tear-streaked face or her trembling voice saying she loved me despite everything.

My knuckles throbbed where I'd punched the mirror, blood still dripping onto the floor. I sank back down, resting my head against the bedframe. Every breath felt like a struggle, every thought a battle I couldn't win.

Why couldn't I just let her go? Why did I keep torturing myself with these thoughts? She deserved better—someone who wasn't a mess of scars and anger and regret.

But the idea of her with someone else twisted my gut into knots. Imagining her laughing, smiling, loving someone who wasn't me made my blood boil anew. It was selfish and wrong, but it was also true.

I pressed my fists to my temples, willing the torment to stop. It didn't matter what I wanted or how much it hurt; what mattered was what was best for her. And that sure as hell wasn't me.

The room fell silent except for my ragged breathing and the distant hum of traffic outside. The chaos around me mirrored the chaos within, but there was no escape from either.

All I could do was sit amidst the ruins and hope that one day, maybe, I'd find a way to let go—for both our sakes.

I stepped into John Walker's office, my head pounding and my knuckles stinging from the earlier confrontation with the mirror. The door clicked shut behind me, and Walker looked up from his desk, eyes narrowing as he took in my disheveled appearance.

"The fuck happened to you?" Walker's voice cut through the silence, sharp and accusatory.

"I quit," I said, each word feeling like a weight lifting off my shoulders.

Walker furrowed his brow, leaning forward. "Excuse me?"

"I quit," I repeated, my voice firmer this time. "I'm not teaching any fucking skating class in two days. I… I can't be here."

Walker glanced at my hands, noticing the cuts and dried blood. "Does this have anything to do with why your knuckles are so cut up? What the fuck happened?"

I shook my head, already turning to leave. This conversation needed to end before it even began.

"Is this about what happened to Everly?" Walker's words stopped me in my tracks. My hand froze on the doorknob.

I glanced over my shoulder but said nothing.

"She asked for a ride home," Walker continued, "since Holly is still with her mother. I said I couldn't, but now…"

"How—" I cut myself off. Asking about Everly felt like a trap I didn't want to fall into.

Walker sighed, frustration lacing his tone. "She doesn't eat lunch with her mother Saturdays, Sinclaire. What happened? Or does this relate to the?—"

"How the fuck should I know?" I snapped, anger flaring up again. "I'm not her keeper."

"No," Walker said slowly, almost contemplative. "And thank God for that. And yet, for some reason, she went to you after everything. She trusts you."

"Not anymore, she doesn't," I muttered under my breath.

"What did you do?" Walker's eyes bore into mine, demanding an answer.

"What her mother should have done," I spat back with a sneer. "What all of you should have done. I told her the truth."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. Then, without warning, Walker stood up and walked over to me, his footsteps echoing ominously in the small office.

"What did you do?" His voice was low, almost a growl.

"She deserved to know the truth," I replied, meeting his gaze head-on.

"And you told it to her while keeping her feelings paramount, right?" Walker's eyes narrowed. "Or is this you, fucking things up again?"

Before I could respond, a knock sounded on the door. Walker's secretary stepped in, her expression cautious as she glanced between us. She was a petite woman with sharp features and dark hair pulled into a tight bun. Her eyes held a mix of curiosity and wariness as they settled on me.

"Sir," she began, hesitating slightly. "You have a call on?—"

"Take a message," Walker cut her off curtly.

"Sir," she repeated, her voice more insistent this time. "I tried. He insists. Says it's about Cooper Sinclaire."

Walker shifted his gaze back to me, suspicion clear in his eyes. With a sigh, he walked back to his desk and picked up the phone.

The secretary lingered for a moment longer, casting one last wary glance at me before closing the door behind her.

Walker picked up the phone. "Walker."

I considered leaving, my body itching to be anywhere but here. I didn't give a shit about what was going on or what people were saying. None of it mattered.

"That can't be right," Walker said, his voice suddenly sharp. "Send me the link."

He got off the phone, his face drawn tight with worry. He pulled out his cell just as it chimed.

"You might want to see this," Walker said, his tone grim.

I wanted to tell him to fuck off but decided against it. Instead, I stood there, fists clenched at my sides.

"Your agent's been trying to call you," Walker added.

"Yeah, well, my phone broke," I muttered, stepping closer to the desk so I could see the phone.

On the screen was a clip from NHL Tonight. The word brEAKING blared across the bottom in bold letters. A pretty blonde newscaster appeared, her expression serious.

"We have some disturbing news in the Ashley Sutherland — Cooper Sinclaire case."

The scene shifted abruptly to Ashley at a press conference. She looked fragile, her eyes glistening with tears that seemed ready to spill over at any moment.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "But I knew I needed to be honest with myself. I couldn't keep protecting Cooper anymore. During our relationship, Cooper grew increasingly more abusive, both verbally and... and physically." She paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "He would slap me every time I upset him, and I'm sure you know enough about him to know that he was upset often. Those slaps would turn into… into fists… and… and I…" She burst into tears.

I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they might crack. Anger bubbled up inside me, hot and suffocating. Lies. All of it was lies.

Walker looked at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of truth or deceit. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Why bother?" I spat, my voice a raw edge. "It's not like you'll believe me."

"Try me," Walker replied, his tone demanding, almost challenging.

"It's bullshit," I snapped, anger flaring up again. "It's all bullshit. I ruined my career because some asshole insinuated she was only after me for my money. You really think I would do that if I was abusive?"

"Well, she's alleging you're a cheater too," Walker said, eyes never leaving mine.

"Yeah, well, I'm not surprised," I said bitterly. "The bitch tried to get me to settle with her before going public with these allegations."

"... saw him at Crestwood Academy a few days ago. He was hovering closer to a student. I didn't recognize her at first. But it seems he's taken an unseemly interest in Everly Hawthorne. Knowing him, I wonder if he's going to take his anger out on her, on how her father and his mother had an affair. I mean, the poor girl's been so sheltered. And Cooper has a tendency to take things without asking. In fact, I asked school staff about him and an anonymous source told me she reported a rape earlier this week?—"

"God fucking dammit," Walker growled, slamming his fist onto the desk.

My vision narrowed to a pinprick. Not because someone called me a rapist—that's easy enough to refute—but because Everly's worst moment was now out in the open, all thanks to Ashley.

Really… because of me.

I should have just paid her.

Now Everly's life was ruined… if I hadn't ruined it already with what I told her earlier.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples as if that could erase the chaos in my mind.

Walker looked at me, waiting for something more than just curses and anger. "What now?"

I clenched my fists tighter, the sting of my earlier outburst against the mirror still fresh. "I need to fix this," I finally said.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Walker asked, skepticism lacing his tone.

"I don't know yet," I admitted. "But I'll figure it out."

"You better," Walker said flatly. "For Everly's sake."