Page 87 of Collateral Damage
New Year’s Eve was not a good night for either of us, but six months of sobriety is kind of a shock.
“I want to apologize about that night,” he continues. “I was out of line.”
“I wasn’t exactly kind to you, either.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well, I woke up ashamed of what I could remember. Some of it’s black, and I didn’t like the person I was anymore. Drinking only made that worse.” He taps his fingers on the countertop. “I’ve used it as a coping mechanism. I knew I had a problem, but I wasn’t motivated to change. After that party, I realized I couldn’t handle alcohol responsibly anymore.”
“I’m proud of you.”
He lets out a self-deprecating snort.
“It’s true. It takes a lot to admit you have a problem and actually fix it. Are you going to try to stay sober forever, or what’s the plan?”
He shrugs. “For now, I’m not going to drink at all. Maybe I’ll be able to handle it someday, but I’m okay if I never go back.”
He shifts, drawing attention to his prosthetic. “I have a lot of buried anger about my leg. Drinking only makes that anger come out where I don’t want it to. It’s like this molten lava that’s burning underneath the surface, but when I drink, everything erupts. I can’t allow that anymore; people will get hurt.”
I set the glass on the counter and erase the space between us, wrapping him into a tight hug. He immediately embraces me, and it feels amazing, like returning home after years away.
“I’m sorry about your leg, Cooper,” I whisper into his shirt. “I’m truly so proud of you for how you’re handling things. You’re doing better than most people would.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” His breath tickles my scalp, voice rumbling in his chest as he holds me tight.
We hang on until the hug lingers, the energy shifting from comforting to something more primal. My body buzzes, like electricity traveling under my skin.
He’s still holding me, but his thumb slides up and down my elbow, the feel of it erupting shivers across my skin. His masculine scent envelopes me, signaling safety and anticipation at the same time.
“Is this okay?” Cooper asks, and I nod into the soft fabric of his shirt.
God help me… I want this.
I wanthim.
His hands slide downward, cupping my ass. We both hold our breath as he presses me against the hard erection under his sweatpants, and God, I want to slip my hands below the hem and feel what’s ready for me.
He leans back ever so slightly, his brown eyes locking on mine. Questions battle behind his expression, knocking over each other and none making it through his parted lips. I answer them just as silently.
With a sexy half-smile, he leans close, his nose tickling my jaw.
He’s going to kiss me.
And I’m going to let him.
The lock rattles, slicing through the moment. We jump apart as if shocked by an electric current. Perry shuffles in, looking worse for wear, and Cooper casually slips behind the counter to hide the bulge in his pants. My cheeks are on fire.
“Hey, guys,” Perry says on a sigh, seemingly unaware of what he walked in on. “How’s it going?”
Cooper clears his throat, and I find the hardwood floors suddenly fascinating.
“Going well,” Cooper answers, his voice masking our moment better than I trust mine to do. “How’s your sister?”
Perry drops his bag on the couch and plops down, rubbing his forehead. Cooper and I exchange a worried glance and my chest tightens. We went through Victoria King’s cancer experience, so this is triggering for us, but especially for Cooper.
“Is it bad news?” Cooper rasps.
Perry looks up at us with a small smile. “No. No, sorry. She’s doing okay, actually, but it’s so hard to see her going through this. She’s only seventeen. She’s sopositiveabout it all, so optimistic, and the rest of us have to show that same optimism when we’re with her. We don’t want to be the assholes who bring her down, you know?”
Cooper nods. “Unfortunately, I do know.”
