Page 19 of Boots & Scars

I walked past them all, barely noticing. The ghosts of my past clung to me, heavier than any winter coat.

That's when my phone buzzed in my pocket—a jarring intrusion into my thoughts. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. An unfamiliar number flashed across it. I hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Yeah?" I grunted into the receiver.

"Coop, it's Ashley," came the reply, her voice a sharp contrast to the serene day.

"Coop?" I echoed reflexively, my tone laced with sarcasm. "Funny. After you eviscerated me on the NHL Network, I don't believe you've earned the right to call me that."

"Cooper," she pressed on, ignoring my jab. "You're late."

"For what?" My brows furrowed in confusion.

"Mediation," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Mediation," I repeated slowly, letting the word hang between us like a noose.

"Yes, Cooper, we discussed this," she said with a tinge of impatience. "We're going to divide our assets?—"

"Wait," I cut her off, feeling a surge of anger rising within me. "You think you get anything of mine? You dropped me too fast, Ashley. We were engaged, not married."

"I still have some rights," she argued back. "Some things I'm entitled to."

I hated how goddamn smug she sounded over the line, as if she had already won this battle too.

I sneered into the phone. "You have shit, Ashley. And that's what you'll get from me."

"You know," she shot back, her voice a hiss through the speaker, "my lawyer says I'm entitled to compensation for the years I wasted being with you. You're a monster, Cooper. What you did to Matthews?—"

"After he spoke so fondly of you," I interrupted, the bitter taste of sarcasm heavy on my tongue. "How someone like you could never love someone like me. How you were only after my money. How delightful that he turned out to be right, hmm? You aren't getting shit, Ashley. You can take me to court, but I hope you have the money to pay for your lawyer's fees as well as mine."

Before she could spit out another venomous word, I hung up.

"Goddammit!" My voice cracked like a whip through the air, startling a couple of freshmen who had been strolling by.

They jumped, their eyes flicking to my scars before quickly darting away.

"Is that Cooper Sinclaire?" one of them whispered to the other.

"Who else has those scars?" his companion muttered.

Their words hung between us like a challenge I didn't have the energy to take up.

"What're you looking at?" I snapped, my voice harsher than I'd intended.

The students scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving me standing there with the echo of their fear ringing in my ears.

I cut to the parking lot, making a beeline for my car.

I drove back to my place in the teaching housing section, my knuckles white against the steering wheel. The conversation with Ashley still echoed in my ears, each word a sharp reminder of everything I'd lost.

I sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of my thoughts. The road stretched out before me, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the picturesque campus.

As I pulled up to the driveway, I noticed a couple making out against the garage. Their bodies were pressed close, hands roaming with a familiarity that made my stomach turn. I narrowed my eyes, trying to make out their features in the fading light.

Wait a minute. Was that...?

Connor Bradley.

---