28. Cooper

28

Cooper

T he cold, hard bench in the holding cell did little to soothe my aching back. My mind churned. I stared at the scuffed concrete floor, tracing invisible patterns with my eyes, waiting for whatever came next.

The sound of keys rattling jarred me from my thoughts. I looked up as the bars slid open with a metallic groan.

An officer stood there, his expression neutral. "You're being released," he announced.

I stood up, the stiffness in my muscles protesting every movement. As I stepped out of the cell, my gaze locked onto a figure standing just beyond the bars.

Damien.

He looked like he'd stepped out of another era, with his platinum hair slicked back and an aura that screamed both danger and allure. His eyes held a cold, calculating glint, and his presence filled the room with an unsettling energy. Damien's sharp features and piercing gaze reminded me of some medieval warrior, commanding and untouchable.

"Cooper," he said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that hinted at unspoken power.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice gruff from disuse.

"Saving your ass, it seems," he replied, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? And what do you want in return?"

He shrugged casually but his eyes never left mine. "Maybe I just wanted to see how far you've fallen."

"Or maybe you have something up your sleeve," I shot back.

Damien's smile widened slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Always suspicious, aren't you? Come on, let's get out of here."

We walked side by side through the narrow corridors of the station. The fluorescent lights above cast harsh shadows on Damien's face, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze.

As we exited the building into the crisp night air, I felt a mixture of relief and wariness. Damien might have gotten me out of that cell, but I knew better than to trust him completely.

We stepped out into the cold night, the crisp air biting at my exposed skin. The silence between us stretched, uncomfortable and heavy.

"Dad know?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Damien's eyes flicked to me, then away, his jaw tightening.

I sighed, feeling a knot tighten in my chest. The weight of his silence spoke louder than any words could. I turned my gaze away, staring into the darkness as we walked towards the parking lot.

There it was, Damien's car—a sleek, black Ferrari that looked like it belonged in a high-speed chase rather than a quiet small town street. The body gleamed under the streetlights, its curves and angles giving it an almost predatory look. It was low to the ground with wide tires that hinted at its power. The tinted windows hid the interior from view, adding to its mysterious allure.

Damien unlocked the car with a click of his key fob. The doors swung open smoothly, inviting us inside. I slid into the passenger seat, sinking into the plush leather that felt like a stark contrast to the hard bench I'd been sitting on moments before.

The interior was as luxurious as the exterior suggested—soft leather seats, polished chrome accents, and a dashboard that looked more like an airplane cockpit with all its dials and switches. Damien slipped behind the wheel with practiced ease, his movements fluid and controlled.

As he started the engine, a low purr filled the car—a sound that spoke of raw power held in check. He pulled out of the parking lot with a smoothness that belied the car's potential for speed.

We drove in silence for a while, the town lights flashing by in a blur. I couldn't help but steal glances at Damien, trying to read his expression. But his face remained impassive, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

The hum of the engine filled the silence between us, an unspoken tension lingering in the air. Damien's eyes flicked to me, curiosity shadowing his gaze.

"Is it true?" he asked, breaking the silence.

I ticked my jaw, a habit when irritation clawed at my patience. "Ashley's a fucking liar?—"

"I don't mean her," Damien cut in, his voice smooth but firm. "About the freshman."

I glanced at him, trying to read his expression through the dim light. "What about her?"

"That you beat the shit out of a group of frat boys," he said, his tone even.

I nodded once, no point in denying it. "I don't think I did enough damage," I replied. "Not after what they did to her."

Damien grunted, a non-committal sound that neither condemned nor approved.

"Holly was there," I said, glancing sideways at him. The eight-year gap between us made it hard to stay in touch, but I knew Holly meant something to him.

"Yeah, well, Everly is Holly's best friend," he said.

"You keep up with her?" I asked, genuinely curious.

His silence told me more than words could.

"Well, she took a nasty gash to the forehead," I said after a moment.

"She what?" Damien's voice dropped low, an edge of concern threading through his usual calm demeanor.

"A gash," I repeated. "Had to get stitches."

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. For a moment, I saw past the cool exterior to the brother who once fiercely protected those he cared about.

The road stretched out before us, and for the first time in years, our silence felt less like a chasm and more like a bridge.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, watching the city lights blur past us.

"Where do you want to go?" Damien's eyes flicked to me before returning to the road.

"The hospital," I said, feeling the weight of my words settle between us.

He nodded, his face unreadable in the dim light of the dashboard.

"And you?" I asked after a moment. "Don't you have some playoff game to get ready for?"

"Tomorrow," he replied, his voice steady. "Something suddenly came up that requires my immediate attention."

I looked out the window, processing his words. The night seemed darker than usual; the streetlights casting long shadows that danced across the pavement.

The drive to the hospital was silent, save for the hum of the engine. Damien's presence, though stoic, felt oddly comforting. He might have had his own reasons for being here, but at that moment, it didn't matter.

We pulled up to the hospital entrance, and Damien brought the car to a smooth stop. The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on everything below, making it all feel surreal.

I glanced at my younger brother. "Thanks," I said quietly, opening the door and stepping out.

Damien gave a brief nod.

I watched as he drove away; the taillights disappearing into the night. Taking a deep breath, I turned toward the hospital doors, feeling the chill of anticipation crawl up my spine.

I stepped into Everly's room, my heart hammering against my ribs. The place was quiet, the hum of the hospital machines the only sound. I half-expected her mom to be there, hovering like she always did. But the chair by the bed was empty. I wondered if she was coming back.

Everly lay still, her face pale against the stark white of the sheets. Seeing her, face bruised, neck purple, my chest ache. I took a step closer, and her eyes fluttered open. When she saw me, she smiled—a small, fragile thing that sent a wave of relief through my bones.

"You're here," she said in a low voice.

"Sorry, sugar, I was detained."

"I know," Everly cut me off. "Holly told me." She looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "Not the brightest thing, huh? Getting into an Uber? I was going to talk to my mom?—"

"You couldn't have known." I moved closer and took a seat next to her bed, reaching for her hand. "You couldn't have known."

"It feels like every time I try to do something, it blows up in my face," she murmured. Her voice trembled slightly. "Cooper, my father is alive."

Guilt pricked at me like needles. "Yeah, sweetie, I'm sorry?—"

"No." She squeezed my hand, her eyes earnest and searching mine. "Maybe there's a better way to have handled it, but I'm glad you told me. I am."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "I'm not sure if I am," I admitted.

Everly looked down at our joined hands. "I'm not even sure if I want to see him," she confessed softly.

"What about your mom?" I asked gently.

"Oh." She chewed on her bottom lip before answering. "She left."

"Left?" I echoed, feeling an edge creep into my voice. It surprised me how quickly the anger surged.

"She thought you did this to me," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil I saw in her eyes.

"Well, sugar, you can't fault her for that," I replied, trying to keep my tone gentle.

"I can, and I will," she said fiercely. Her grip on my hand tightened. "No one gets to talk about you like that. Especially in front of me. I won't tolerate it."

I couldn't help but smile despite myself. The fire in her eyes was something else.

"I told my mother how I feel," she continued, her voice unwavering. "About you. I told her if she can't get over her own biases, then she can leave."

"Now, honey, I'm not sure?—"

"Are you going to tell me I did something wrong too?" she interrupted, her eyes boring into mine.

I paused, searching for the right words. "No," I said finally. "I'll back you. Even if I don't agree with you, even if I don't understand you, I'll back you one hundred percent."

Relief touched her face, and my heart swelled at the sight of it, at how open she wore her emotions.

Everly leaned forward, her face inches from mine. "Kiss me, Cooper," she whispered. "Please."

I leaned in and closed the distance between us, capturing her lips with mine. The world outside that room faded away; it was just us, tangled in each other's warmth and breath.

She flinched slightly because of the cut on her lips, and I pulled away, my forehead resting gently against hers.

"I fought back," she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "I fought back."

"I know you did," I murmured, my voice steady. "My little killer. I know you did."

The anger burned through me again, a hot, searing rage that made my muscles tense. I wrapped my arms around her tentatively, careful not to cause her any more pain. But I needed to touch her, to protect her. Holding her was the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.

"No one will ever touch you like that again," I promised, my voice low but firm. "I swear it."

Everly nestled into me, her breath shaky but calming as she found comfort in our closeness. The room was quiet, the only sounds were our breathing and the soft hum of the machines.

"I thought... when it happened... I thought I'd never see you again," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm here now," I reassured her, tightening my hold just a bit. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Her fingers traced light patterns on my arm, grounding both of us in the moment.

"I'm scared," she confessed after a long pause.

"I know," I replied softly. "But you don't have to be scared alone."

We stayed like that for a while, holding each other in the sterile hospital room. Her warmth seeped into me, pushing away some of the cold anger that had settled in my bones since seeing her hurt.

Everly nodded against me, a small but determined gesture that filled me with a fierce sense of protectiveness. This girl— my girl—had fought back against everything life threw at her. And I'd be damned if I let anyone hurt her again.