Page 80 of Boots & Scars

I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to push him further. But I couldn't help it; I wanted things between him and his dad to start working themselves out.

"What about your brother?" I asked softly. "Damien."

Cooper's expression shifted, a flicker of something crossing his face. It wasn't anger or sadness—more like resignation.

"Damien and I aren't close," he finally said, his voice low.

"Why not?" I pressed gently.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated."

"I can handle complicated," I said, offering a small smile.

"Damien... he's eight years younger than I am," Cooper began, his gaze distant. "Things changed when our parents split."

I nodded, listening intently. His words painted a picture of a fractured family, each member dealing with the fallout in their own way.

"The kid was only two," Cooper continued. "He doesn't remember much."

"Does he know what happened?" I asked.

"I don't think it's my place to tell him," Cooper said softly. "I don't want him to resent my parents if he doesn't."

Silence hung between us for a moment as I processed what he'd shared. It was a glimpse into a part of Cooper's life that he'd kept hidden from me until now.

"I thought it was bad, you know," I said, letting my hair fall over my shoulder like a curtain. "With my dad being dead. I can't imagine what it must be like having your parents split."

"Did your mom tell you he died?" Cooper asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied me.

I nodded, tracing lazy patterns on his chest with my fingertips. "I guess it happened the year I was born," I murmured. "I don't remember him. Not at all. But my mom told me about him. How great he was. How I should aspire to find a man like him."

Cooper scoffed, the sound cutting through the air between us.

I blushed, feeling heat creep up my neck and into my cheeks. "I know it's silly," I said quickly, looking away. "But I've always wanted that. I've always wanted to fall in love."

"You will," he told me, his voice steady and sure.

I pursed my lips, gathering the courage to ask the question that had been on my mind. "Do you ever think you'll forgive your dad?" I asked softly.

"Absolutely not," he said firmly, without a moment's hesitation.

"Cooper," I started, feeling a knot tighten in my chest.

"You don't know what happened," he pointed out, his tone hardening.

"Because you're not telling me," I replied, frustration lacing my voice.

He sighed, his hand running through his hair as he looked away. The tension between us grew thick and heavy, but I stayed silent, giving him space to decide if he wanted to share more.

His eyes eventually found mine again, but the hardness hadn't left them. "It's not something I'm ready to talk about," he said finally.

I nodded slowly, trying to understand even though it hurt to be kept in the dark. "Okay," I whispered, leaning into him for comfort despite the emotional distance that had sprung up between us.

We lay there in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on us. My fingers continued their aimless journey across his chest, drawing invisible lines that mirrored the complexities of our conversation.

"I just," I started, feeling the weight of my words before they even left my mouth. "I just want you to have a father, you know? I don't want you to miss out on that like I did."

"Everly," he said, his voice carrying a warning.

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