14. Cooper

Chapter 14

Cooper

I woke up tangled next to Miles, the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Miles smiled up at me, surprising me that he was already awake.

I leaned down and kissed him softly, murmuring, "Good morning."

"Morning," he replied, his voice still husky with sleep.

We reluctantly rose from bed and made our way downstairs. Sawyer was already in the kitchen, appearing to nurse a hangover from the night before.

I wondered what time he had returned home; dark shadows lingered under his eyes.

"Breakfast, please?" Sawyer groaned, his head cradled in his hands.

Miles rolled his eyes and started firing up the stove. "You're hopeless," he teased.

I decided to help by making Sawyer a hangover remedy of my own: a blend of tomato juice, a splash of hot sauce, a pinch of salt, a dash of Worcestershire sauce, a squeeze of lemon, and a sprinkle of celery salt.

It was what I usually drank when I was feeling rough, and it always did the trick for me.

As I handed the drink to Sawyer, Miles asked, "Hey, Coop. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you today?"

Miles was frying some eggs, his brow furrowed with concern. He looked adorable.

"What's today?" Sawyer asked, sounding more sober after taking a few sips of his drink.

Neither Miles nor I had to point it out because Sawyer's gaze turned serious, and he nodded.

"Ah, it's that time of the year, huh?" Sawyer asked.

I only nodded, a somber feeling settling over me. We enjoyed breakfast together, the easy banter lightening the mood slightly.

After freshly showering and dressing, I got ready to leave the house. Miles gave me a kiss, his hand lingering on my cheek.

"Be careful out there," he whispered.

He was probably worried about Ryder's wolves following me closely.

"I will," I promised, giving him one last smile before heading out to my ride.

I drove to the convenience store to grab a six-pack. Then, I made my way to Pecan Pines Cemetery to see my dad. The drive was quiet, giving me time to reflect.

The memories of my father always hit harder on this day, and visiting his grave was both a ritual and a way to reconnect. I parked the truck, grabbed the six-pack, and walked towards his resting place.

As I approached his grave, the familiar ache in my chest returned. I sat down, placing the beers beside his headstone.

"Hey, Dad," I said softly. "Brought your favorite."

I cracked open a can and set it on the ground, a small offering for the man whom I wished I had known a little better.

Closing my eyes, I thought of his death—how Ryder toyed with him before killing him in that challenge circle, and how angry that made me.

I was arrogant enough to challenge Ryder as well, thinking I could somehow beat him.

That anger stayed with me for a very long time, but now, after spending more time with Miles, Sawyer, and our friends, I realized I've finally managed to come to terms with my dad's death.

I spent the next hour talking to him, sharing the highs and lows of my life, my worries about Ryder's wolves, and the joy I found in Miles.

It was a bittersweet visit, but it always left me feeling a bit lighter, as if my dad was still watching over me, guiding me through the tough times.

"I figured I'd find you here," said a familiar voice.

I didn't need to turn to know who it was. Ryder finally had the guts to talk to me face-to-face. Maybe in his eyes, I hadn't been worth his time before.

However, now he finally considered me a real threat to his pack and his town. I stood up and took one last look at the headstone before confronting the man who murdered my father.

I turned to face Ryder, my jaw set and muscles tense.

The graveyard felt eerily silent around us, though I knew it wasn't empty. On my way to my father's grave earlier, I had passed a few people visiting their friends and loved ones.

"You finally decided to show up," I said, my voice low and steady.

Just when I thought I had finally found some measure of peace, I was wrong. Inside, I was seething with familiar fury.

Calm down, I reminded my wolf. Ryder probably showed up here to provoke me on purpose.

Ryder smirked, his expression mocking. "You've come a long way since our last encounter, Cooper. I hear you've been cozying up with Miles and Sawyer," he remarked.

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to charge at him. "What do you want, Ryder? Did you come here to pick a fight with me?" I asked.

My skin felt tightly stretched over my bones. My wolf was on the verge of emerging, but I thought of Miles waiting for me back home and forced myself to calm down.

If I attacked Ryder now, he'd have a reason to send the entire pack after me. It wouldn't end there.

Officially, I was a member of the Winter Valley Pack, and if I went after Ryder, my current pack would also be held accountable for my rash actions.

Besides, there was a human family nearby. If Ryder and I exchanged blows, they might get hurt.

Ryder shook his head, the smirk widening. "I don't want to fight you, Cooper, unless you want to be humiliated again? This is just a friendly chat between old acquaintances," he said.

I scoffed, my temper flaring. "Acquaintances? You killed my father, Ryder. Then you tried to kill Ben and Sawyer. Now you're sending wolves to stalk Miles. There's nothing friendly between us," I told him.

His gaze hardened for a moment, then turned into something resembling amusement.

"Your father was weak, Cooper. He wasn't strong enough to lead the pack. I did him a favor by putting him out of his misery," Ryder said.

I pictured myself lunging at him, partially shifting my claws and cutting his throat. Then I reminded myself that Ryder got his kicks from provoking me.

He was probably hoping I'd lose my temper. Maybe Garth had told him about the car window, and Ryder presumed it would be easy to rile me up. It took everything in me to reel in my wolf.

"Wait," I thought to myself. I wasn't the impulsive teenager I was ten years ago.

When I didn't do or say anything, Ryder had the gall to look disappointed.

"Have you turned into a coward, Cooper? You're all bark and no bite. Maybe Garth and Bruce were wrong. You're no threat to me," Ryder said with a scoff.

I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Whatever he saw on my face made him take a hesitant step back. Triumph filled me when I realized I smelled fear on him.

"Tell yourself whatever you want, Ryder," I said. "But I'll be sticking around here and have no plans of leaving."

He glared at me, and I could sense him leaking out all his aggressive aura, but I stood there unimpressed. That seemed to unsettle him.

"Enjoy your little domestic life while it lasts. But remember, Pecan Pines will always be mine," he said.

With those words hanging in the air, Ryder turned and walked away. I stood there, once more tempted to attack him.

His back was exposed, and it would be an easy kill; Ryder wouldn't even notice if I sunk my claws into him.

But as I glanced back at my father's grave, I recalled the lessons in decency and honor he had imparted on me before his passing. Stooping to such a cheap tactic would only lower me to Ryder's level, I realized.

I let him walk away unharmed, unsure if I would come to regret my decision later on.