Page 106 of The Most Perfect Wrong

I whip around, alarmed, my stomach dropping as I see him pick up my grandmother’s glass bird—the one thing that holds value to me over anything else. It was my favorite thing of hers as a child, and she gave it to me on her deathbed.

“Brad, don’t!” My voice breaks as I lunge forward, reaching out as if I can stop what’s about to happen.

But it’s too late. He fists the delicate bird in his hand, his expression unreadable, and smashes it to the ground.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion—the bird shattering, Brad’s expression, the sound of my cries blending with the sharp crash of glass scattering across the floor. The fragments spread like shards of my heart, piercing every ounce of strength I have left. He’s already taken so much from me, but this—this was deliberate. The one piece of me he hadn’t broken yet—he destroyed that too.

He looks at me with satisfaction and pity. “Get the fuck out of here, Cooper. And don’t you dare come crawling back when Ryan dumps your ass.”

I can’t leave like this. Not with him getting the last word. I can’t let him have it—can’t let him win. But I’m in tears, my breath coming in short, shaky gasps. The hurt cuts so deep, it’s like it’s hollowing me out from the inside. I square my shoulders, forcing myself to stand taller.

“Oh, I’ll be back,” I say, my voice laced with bitter cynicism. “Saturday. To get my things. And I’ll be bringing Ryan and Leo with me.” My gaze hardens, locking with his. “I suggest you not be here if you don’t want your ass kicked.”

I grip the door handle and swing it open, clinging to the last fragile thread of my dignity as I walk down the hallway toward the elevator, tears streaming down my face. The elevator ride feels excruciatingly long, and when it stops halfway down to let a couple on, humiliation burns through me. I try to hide my face, but it’s useless—I know they’ve noticed. My nose is stuffed, my head pounds, and I stare at my feet, desperate to disappear, as if avoiding eye contact will make me invisible.

When we finally reach the parking garage, I rush out, gasping for breath like I’ve been held underwater.

I manage to hold it somewhat together until I reach my car. The second I shut the door, everything crashes down on me. Tears pour out, fast and unstoppable, and I completely lose it. I fold my arms over the steering wheel and bury my head in them. My shoulders shake with every sob, each one more painful than the last, until I lose all sense of time and just let myself break.

I sit up, frantically searching for tissues as the snot becomes impossible to manage with sniffles alone. My hands fumble under the passenger seat until I find a crumpled box. I yank one out and blow my nose. Leaning back against the seat, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to calm down.

My hands move to my head, gripping my hair as I rub my temples, my head pounding. Keep breathing. Keep it together.

Eventually, the storm inside me settles into a quiet hum. I grab another tissue and peek into the visor mirror, wiping streaked mascara from my cheeks. God, my face is a disaster—puffy, red, blotchy. I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting here.

I check my phone. It’s almost eleven. A flood of missed calls and texts from Ryan fills the screen. His earlier texts are directions to Leo and Vivian’s and a simple request: Let me know when you’re on your way.

The newer messages are different, laced with worry.

Ryan:Hey… starting to worry. Everything okay?

Ryan:Coop, Where are you?

Ryan:Call me.

Ryan:You okay?

The last one was sent ten minutes ago, right after his most recent call. He’s tried multiple times, and guilt settles heavy in my chest. I’m not ready to talk—I need more time to pull myself together. But I can’t leave him in the dark, so I type out a quick response:

Cooper:I’m so sorry. Brad was home… Yes, I’m ok. And no, I’m not ok. I’m leaving now. See you soon.

Chapter 32

RYAN

I’m worried sick until Cooper’s text finally comes through. Knowing she had to face Brad unprepared makes my stomach churn.

I head to the parking garage. It’s freezing out, but I don’t care. Ten minutes later, her car pulls in. Even from here, I can tell she’s been crying. I run a hand through my hair, rushing to meet her.

I open her door just as she wipes under her eyes. She steps out, and I pull her into me, practically knocking her off her feet.

She buries her head in my chest, fists clutching my shirt. She doesn’t make a sound, but her shoulders shake with silent sobs.

“Jesus, Coop.” I stroke her hair, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Hey, it’s okay. I got you.”

She nods, but the tremble in her body tells me she’s far from okay.

“Let’s get you inside, alright? Do you want to pop the trunk? I’ll grab your things.”

---