Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I touch my scar again, thinking about that night in San Antonio—that night my heart raced so fast, I thought it was marching its way out of my fucking ears. No matter how many Vanns or Coopers enter my life, I’ll never feel safe.
I find myself sitting on the tiled ground in the buzzing dim light of the back utility room, right by the door and the fuse box, knees hugged tightly to my chest. I keep tracing my jagged scar with a finger like I’m reading brail while staring emptily at a long crack in the off-white wall before me. Suddenly, I can’t be around all of that noise out there.
I close my eyes and try to imagine safe spaces.
Cooper’s house.
Cooper’s bed.
Cooper’s arms.
I take one deep breath in, then let it out. I do this seven times slowly. The noise of the bar fades away. The hum of a refrigerator nearby goes away, too. After a while, all I can hear is my own breathing and my slowing heartbeat.
The scuffle of a shoe startles me awake. I look up.
Coop peers down at me from the doorway leading back into the kitchen. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” After a moment, I get to my feet and quickly brush myself off. “I-I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
I realize one of my safe spaces just found me. So I go right up to it and put myself there—right in Cooper’s arms, the side of my face pressed to his big, strong, warm chest. He closes his arms tightly around me like a protective cage. I close my eyes. He doesn’t ask anything more. He knows what I need. He lets me stay right here in my safe space for as long as I want. The sound of Cooper’s strong, measured heart beat soon replaces my own, the only thing I hear, the only thing I feel, and I find myself drifting away.
Chapter 19 - Cooper
I stroke his hair as we lie in bed together.
Listening to him sleep brings me a deep, inner peace. It compares to nothing I’ve ever known in my life, being able to give him this priceless gift.
I’ve been playing this dark game in my mind lately. I try to imagine myself without any of my daily luxuries I’ve taken for granted all these years.
My life without a roof over my head.
Without a bar that supports me.
Without friends I can trust. Without the responsibility of those plants on my back porch.
Without the safety of a bed or the assurance of food to eat every morning, afternoon, and night.
No matter how much Sean demanded that I never feel pity for him, I try to imagine the nightmare he has lived in. I imagine living that fearful, lonesome nightmare for just a single day. Then for a week. Then for a month.
Then for five long months.
I wonder what his life was like before that nightmare. Was it even worse? I’ve been forced to fill in the blanks of his past between the tiny details he has let slip. His abusive father. His vacant mother who left him alone with that bad man. How terrible his life must have been. Was there ever a flicker of joy in his childhood? Good times? Laughter?
How can a parent throw their child away? What kind of hell must they live in to do that to their own blood?
“Coop?”
I thought he was asleep. “Yeah?”
“You’re squeezing me too tight.”
I didn’t even realize I’d gone from stroking his hair to holding him in my arms. I relax my grip. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for it.” I hear the smile in his words. “I like it. As long as I can still breathe, you can squeeze me as much as you want.”
I smile down at him and resume cuddling—this time a touch gentler.
But my mind still finds no rest.
I want to know why he went from running around the bar doing things tonight to hiding in the back room. I want him to tell me without me prying it out of him. Something happened. I’m convinced of it. Even when I asked how his photoshoot went, he gave me a vague “It went great” then resumed eating the wings we brought home as I stared at him suspiciously over my can of beer.
I want to know what really made him leave home. How bad was it? Do I have to hunt down his dad and make him see the beautiful human being he’s missing out on? If I see the man, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to hold back from doing something I’ll regret, something that’s totally not in my nature, something violent and red-eyed.
It might be better Sean doesn’t tell me.
There’s no telling what I might do.
Sunday morning after breakfast, Sean and I take a long walk down the beach. There are so many people here this weekend, many of them have found their way up to the far reaches of Sugarberry Beach, so we aren’t as alone as we might want to be. Sean doesn’t seem to care; he basks in the morning sunshine in just a tank top and shorts with his new sunglasses on. With him having no Sunday gigs and me leaving the responsibilities of the bar to Chase for the day, Sean and I are free to do what we want. For right now, that’s enjoying a nice walk on the semi-crowded beach as if we’re the only ones here.