Page 36 of Boots & Scars

After a few more days, I couldn't fight my curiosity anymore. I needed to know more about him. Needed to understand what made him tick.

On Saturday, I found myself hunched over my laptop, searching for anything I could find on Cooper Sinclaire. It didn't take long to stumble upon the video. Judging by the headline and the comments, this was what caused Texas to suspend him indeterminately.

My cursor hovered over the play button, hesitating. Did I really want to see this? But morbid curiosity won out, and I clicked.

The video was sharp, clearly taken during a game… the one on February 29, based on the date. It was easy to make out Cooper and another player—Matthews, according to the title and the name on the back of the jersey—squaring off on the ice.

Matthews said something, his lips curling into a sneer. Cooper responded, his posture tense and coiled like a spring. Matthews laughed, shaking his head, and that's when Cooper snapped.

He dropped his gloves and launched himself at Matthews, gloves flying. The other man tried to defend himself, but Cooperwas relentless. He pummeled Matthews mercilessly, his face twisted with rage.

I flinched as Cooper's fist connected with Matthews' jaw, sending him sprawling to the ice. But I couldn't look away. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion—horrifying, but impossible to turn away from.

Blood spattered across the pristine white ice as Cooper continued his assault. Matthews was limp now, clearly unconscious, but Cooper didn't let up. He just kept hitting him, over and over again, until the refs finally managed to pull him off.

I sat back in my chair, my heart racing. I'd never seen anything like that before. The sheer brutality of it, the way Cooper had lost control… it was terrifying.

But beneath the horror, there was something else. A twisted sort of fascination. I couldn't deny that seeing Cooper like that, so primal and unleashed, sent a thrill through me.

I closed my laptop, trying to push the image from my mind. But it was seared into my brain now, impossible to forget.

Cooper Sinclaire was dangerous. I knew that now more than ever.

But God help me, I couldn't stay away.

I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen in that video. The way Cooper had lost control, the sheer violence of it all. It was like nothing I'd ever witnessed before.

But what really stuck with me was the reason behind it. I remembered what he'd said to his ex-fiancée, about defending her honor. Had Matthews said something about her? Something so vile and disgusting that it pushed Cooper over the edge?

I tried to imagine what that must have been like. To love someone so fiercely, so completely, that you'd be willing to risk everything for them. To throw away your career, your reputation, your whole life, just to protect them.

My mother had always told me that the right man was a gentleman. He wouldn't hurt a fly, she'd say, just like my father. And I'd taken pride in that, in the idea that I'd find someone gentle and kind, someone who would treat me like a delicate flower.

But this… this was something different. There was a savagery to it, a primal sort of protectiveness that I couldn't quite wrap my head around. The way Cooper had gone completely feral, like a wild animal defending its mate… it was both terrifying and strangely thrilling.

I didn't know what to make of it. On one hand, the violence of it all repulsed me. I'd been raised to believe that fighting was never the answer, that real men solved their problems with words, not fists.

On the other hand… there was something about the depth of Cooper's devotion that called to me. The fact that he loved someone so much, he'd be willing to risk everything for them… it was a kind of love I'd never seen before. A love that consumed you, body and soul.

I sat there for a long time, staring at my closed laptop, trying to make sense of the warring emotions inside me. I knew I should be disgusted by what I'd seen, knew I should want nothing to do with a man capable of such brutality.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Cooper than met the eye. That beneath the scars and the gruff exterior, there was a man who loved deeply and fiercely, a man who would do anything to protect the ones he cared about.

And God help me, but I wanted to know more.

I saton Holly's bed, fiddling with the frayed edge of her comforter as I gathered the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at me all day.

"What happened between you and Damien?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Holly furrowed her brows, looking up from her textbook. "Damien?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "Is Cooper Sinclaire Damien's older brother?"

"Uh, yeah..." she responded, her expression guarded.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for her reaction. "When you were with Damien, did you know Cooper?"

She closed her eyes, a pained look crossing her face. "Where is this coming from?"

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