Page 39 of Boots & Scars

"Quietly?" I scoffed. "You mean give into her blackmail? I never laid a hand on her, and I sure as hell didn't cheat."

"I believe you, but the court of public opinion can be brutal. One false story and your reputation could be ruined. And honestly? After what you did to Matthews, people are going to believe her over you."

I paced the kitchen, my jaw clenched tight. "This is insane. She lived here for a year, that doesn't entitle her to a damn thing."

"Legally, it's a grey area. If she can prove you two were in a committed relationship, she might have a case."

"A case built on lies," I spat. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Cooper, I'm on your side. Let me try to negotiate with her lawyer, see if we can reach a reasonable settlement."

"Reasonable?" I laughed bitterly. "There's nothing reasonable about this situation. You're supposed to be working for me, Mark. Find a way to shut this down."

"I'll do my best, but?—"

I didn't let him finish. I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the counter, watching it skitter across the smooth surface. My heart raced with anger and disbelief. How could Ashley stoop this low? After everything we'd been through, how could she turn on me like this?

I braced my hands against the counter, hanging my head as I tried to calm my breathing. I couldn't let her win. I couldn't let her destroy everything I'd worked so hard for. But as much as I hated to admit it, Mark was right. If Ashley went public with her lies, the damage to my career could be irreparable.

More so than it already was.

I needed to find a way to fight back, to prove my innocence. But how? It was my word against hers, and in the eyes of the public, that was rarely enough.

I stormed down to the basement, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. The room was dark but pristine, but I knew exactly where to find what I needed. I grabbed the bottle of Mulholland Gin from the shelf, not bothering with a glass.

The first swig burned as it went down, the juniper and citrus notes hitting my tongue with a sharp intensity. I welcomed the sensation, hoping it would dull the rage and frustration coursing through my veins.

I slumped into an old armchair; the leather cracked and worn beneath me. The basement was my sanctuary, a place where I could escape the chaos of my life and just be alone with mythoughts. And right now, those thoughts were dark and twisted, consumed by the injustice of Ashley's accusations.

I took another long pull from the bottle, savoring the smooth, slightly sweet finish. The alcohol was starting to work its magic, the edges of my anger beginning to blur. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

I poured myself another generous measure, the clear liquid sloshing against the sides of the bottle. I knew I should stop, that drowning my sorrows in gin wasn't going to solve anything. But in that moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to forget, to numb the pain and betrayal that threatened to overwhelm me.

As I lifted the bottle to my lips once more, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the darkened window. The man staring back at me was a stranger, his eyes haunted and his face etched with lines of stress and anger. I hardly recognized myself anymore, the carefree, confident athlete I once was now replaced by a shell of a man, beaten down by the cruelty of fate and the machinations of a vindictive ex.

I scoffed as I caught sight of my reflection in the darkened window. The man staring back at me was a pathetic mess, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted with bitterness. I raised the bottle to my lips, ready to drown my sorrows once more, but a small voice in the back of my head stopped me.

You're better than this, it whispered, and I froze. That voice... it sounded like that obnoxious girl from the skating rink. What was her name again?

Everly fucking Hawthorne.

With her wide, innocent eyes and the faded freckles dotting her nose, she was everything that was wrong with the world. Everything that was unfair. She could be so damn naïve, so blissfully unaware of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface, while I bore the scars to prove it was real.

I wanted to ruin her. I wanted to shatter that innocence, to drag her down to my level and make her suffer the way I had. Because someone had protected her from the harsh realities of life, sheltered her from the pain and the betrayal.

And me? I had no one. The very people who were supposed to keep me safe had failed me, time and time again.

"Fuck you," I muttered, raising the bottle in a mocking toast to Everly's imagined presence.

The gin burned as it slid down my throat, but it did little to ease the ache in my chest. The anger, the resentment, the crushing loneliness... they all swirled together in a toxic mix that threatened to consume me.

I leaned back in the chair, my eyes drifting shut as the alcohol worked its way through my system. I knew I was spiraling, that I was letting my demons get the best of me. But in that moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to forget, to lose myself in the numbing embrace of the gin and pretend, if only for a little while, that my life wasn't a complete and utter disaster.

The voice in my head grew louder, more insistent.You're better than this, it repeated, and I scowled, taking another long swig from the bottle.

I didn't want to hear it. It wasn't true. I wasn't better thanthis. No one could love me. I was ugly, inside and out. Mean, scarred, broken. The only good thing I had going for me was hockey, and I'd given that up the second I lost it on Matthews, all for a bitch who left me the moment the money stopped coming in.

I didn't deserve to be better than this.

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