18. Cope

18

COPE

“I’m sorry, Cope. He didn’t make it. He’s gone.”

Trace’s words echoed on repeat in my head as I stared out the window. The view that normally brought me such peace gave me nothing now. All that existed was an endless slideshow that flipped me back and forth between pain and numbness.

I knew I should be doing something, anything, but I couldn’t get myself there. My house had been an endless revolving door of family members, but that only made it worse. Because it wasn’t just losing Teddy that hurt. It was the memory of losing Dad and Jacob all those years ago.

Trace hadn’t realized how eerily similar his words were to Mom’s from back then. How I’d come to in the hospital, and she’d been right there, her face so pale that I thought she was a ghost for a second.

“Dad?” I croaked, my throat so dry I thought it might crack.

Pain shattered my mom’s expression, her face crumbling. “I’m so sorry, Cope. Your dad and Jacob…they didn’t make it. They’re gone.”

The agony of that knowledge had sent me spiraling. The stitches in my lip, broken ribs, and concussion were nothing compared to the pain of knowing that I had caused their deaths. It was all on me in every way imaginable.

And now, there was another black mark on my soul. Another life cut short that I’d have to atone for. No price would be great enough.

Fingers curled around mine. “Cope?”

I jolted, some part of me recognizing it wasn’t the first time Sutton had said my name. I blinked a few times, clearing my vision and bringing her into focus. “Sorry, what?”

“Can I bring you some soup and a sandwich?” she asked, hope bleeding into her question. “I didn’t make the soup. Promise. Your mom brought it.”

I knew she was trying to make me smile, and I wanted to give her that. Sutton had been taking care of me for the past forty-eight hours, making sure I ate and trying to get me to sleep. But I couldn’t get my mouth to curve the way I knew it should. “I’m good right now.”

“Cope,” she said softly. “You haven’t eaten anything today.”

My stomach did feel hollow, but that wasn’t any different than the rest of me. “I can’t. I just—I don’t think my gut can take it.”

Sutton’s fingers convulsed around mine, tightening in a grip that told me she wasn’t letting go anytime soon. “What can I do? What do you need?”

“You’re doing it,” I rasped. “This. It’s good.”

I didn’t deserve the kindness or comfort, but I took it anyway. I was a greedy bastard like that. But still, some part of me needed Sutton to know who I really was. “This would never have happened if he hadn’t been worried about me.”

Because that was Teddy. The best friend, through and through. Always looking out for his teammates, friends, and family. And now, because he’d come to check on me, they’d lose out on that gift for the rest of their days.

Sutton gripped my hand harder, shaking it. “Don’t you dare.”

My eyes flared as the shock of her words settled in.

“Don’t you dare put this on yourself. It’s no one’s fault. It’s a horrible tragedy, but no one thing or person is responsible.”

But she was wrong. It was Teddy’s fault for driving too fast around the curve on a mountain road. It was the sky’s fault for starting to rain just enough the oils on the road made the pavement as slick as ice. But most of all, it was my fault for giving Teddy a reason to be here. Just like I’d given my family one to be in that SUV that night.

“He wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for me.” My words were barely audible and like a cannon all at once.

Sutton moved then, sinking to the floor, her knees digging into the plush rug beneath the sofa. She pushed herself between my legs, her hands rising to frame my face. “Cope. He was here because he loved you. Because you meant something to him. And from everything I’ve heard these past few days, you weren’t alone in that. He showed up for the people he loved. That’s Teddy’s legacy. It’s the most beautiful kind you can have. Don’t steal that from him.”

Everything burned. My eyes. My throat. My fucking guts. But I knew Sutton was right. I couldn’t erase Teddy’s legacy. I’d just have to find a way to live with the guilt. I’d done it before. I could do it again.

Sutton dropped her forehead to mine, our breaths mingling. “I’m so sorry. I’d do anything to take this away. To fix it. The way you did for me.”

My arms went around her; I couldn’t stop myself. Her warmth and heat were too alluring. I wanted to lose myself in everything that was Sutton. To forget all the darkness that swirled in me.

“Warrior,” I rasped.

“I’m right here,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

So damn close. I swore I could taste her already. Cinnamon, sugar, and something else. The promise of pureness, of cleansing. I wanted it all. My fingers twisted in Sutton’s shirt, bringing her even closer. Then my fucking phone rang.

We didn’t jerk apart like when Trace had rung the bell. We stayed just as we were for a long moment until the ringing began anew.

I forced myself to release Sutton and reached for the device on the arm of the sofa. Linc’s name flashed on the screen. That stew of nasty emotions was back, but I forced my finger to slide across the screen.

“Linc,” I said in greeting .

He was quiet for a moment. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but I don’t make a habit of asking stupid questions.”

I felt a flutter in the muscles of my mouth like my lips knew they should smile but couldn’t quite do it. “Glad you don’t do that.”

And I knew he wouldn’t start with the placating, “ I’m so sorry for your loss ” bullshit. Because Linc knew what it was like. He’d lost someone close to him in one of the worst ways imaginable. But that meant this was likely stirring up shit for him, too. “You hanging in?” I asked.

He knew what I meant. We’d only talked about that time in his life once when we were both nearly blackout drunk after an especially vicious loss that knocked us out of the playoffs. We’d smoked cigars and drank whiskey into the early morning hours. And we never talked about it again.

“I’m fine,” he clipped.

I wanted to scoff. We were both terrible liars these days. “Did you need something, or are you just playing Mr. Sensitive and checking in?”

Linc sighed. “Sorry, man. I just got out of a meeting with Teddy’s parents.”

That was a knife to the gut and also explained Linc’s lack of control. “Are you in Iowa?”

“They’re here. In Seattle.”

“Oh.” It made sense. They’d have to claim the body. Clean out his house. The burn was back, thinking about every piece of Teddy they’d erase.

“They’re going to do a small service here on Sunday. I told them I’d arrange it, but they asked for you to give the eulogy.”

“What?” The question was out before I could stop it, and there was a bite to the word.

Sutton’s hands tightened on my thighs, reassuring me that she was still there, just like she’d promised.

“You were his closest friend. They want you to do it,” Linc said softly.

I tried to swallow a few times before my throat finally obeyed. “ Of course.” I said the words even though I didn’t mean them at all. “I’ll head up tonight.”

“Don’t drive,” Linc cut in. “I’m sending my jet to your local airstrip. It’ll be there sometime after three.”

That would make it easier. I wouldn’t have to take the same path Teddy had or drive an hour to the main airport in Central Oregon to catch a commercial flight. “Thanks.”

“I’m here. Whatever you need.”

“You, too.” But I knew Linc would never take me up on it.

I ended the call and stared down at Sutton. She looked up at me, a crease in her beautiful brow. “What did he say?”

“Funeral on Sunday. They want me to give the eulogy.”

Sympathy washed over her features. “An honor. But so incredibly hard.”

It was an honor I didn’t deserve. One I wasn’t sure I’d get through. Not alone. “Will you go with me?”

It wasn’t sympathy that flashed then, it was sheer panic—an emotion that didn’t make any sense. “I—um, I have Luca.”

“Mom can stay with him. She loves that kid.”

Sutton’s throat worked as she struggled to swallow. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Warrior,” I whispered, shock settling in.

“I-I can’t. I’m so sorry, Cope.”

“You can’t go to my best friend’s funeral?” There was accusation in my words, a flicker of anger. I held on to that because it was so much better than the pain.

“I’m so sorry, I?—”

“It doesn’t matter.” I shoved to my feet, sending Sutton jerking back on her haunches. None of it mattered. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been alone in my grief and guilt before.