Page 9 of You Can Make Me
“I know. I’m working on it. Thankfully his mom hasn’t made good on her threat to sick her allies on me. She’s good people.”
“She is. He’s their whole world, D. And Sam loves him to pieces. Me too, for that matter. I’m…shit. I’m glad it’s you there. Thanks for keeping us in the loop.”
“So you’re not mad?”
“Hell yeah, I’m mad, but I’ll get over it.”
And I could breathe a tiny bit easier.
“He talk about what happened?” Gene asked.
“No,” I said. “But today he asked about the carnival.”
Gene exhaled and let out a string of curses.”What did you say?”
“He remembered that Dee Dee worked at one. That Dee Dee ran into Holland there. That’s all. I didn’t add to that.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I hate not telling him, but man, G, I don’t know why he’s asking about it. It can’t be good. I can’t have him putting Dane or Kal in danger. We owe them.”
“Too right. Keep me posted. We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah. It’s just… I do think Cooper talking to Dane could be really helpful?—”
“But you don’t think you can trust him to keep Dane’s secret.”
“Do you?”
Gene cursed. “Journalists. Fuck, my wife is one, but we’re married. She knows there’s shit she can’t ask me about, shit I can’t tell her. We have an agreement.”
“Cooper and I never got to that point. Almost…but then…”
“Jeez, Denny. I’m sorry. I wish I would have known?—”
“No, you don’t. I would have hated for you and Sam to be in the middle when things went south. That’s kinda why we never told anyone. We wanted to figure things out ourselves first and we were having such a good time. Until we weren’t.”
We both cursed. I finished my cigarette and put it out on my boot, tossing it in the garbage can out front.
“He’s lucky to have you,” Gene finally said. “If anyone can get him through this, it’s you.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t agree with him, but it was nice to know someone had faith in me.
If only Cooper had faith…
Two
Cooper
Five months since Buttonwillow…
My stomach woke me from my afternoon nap. It was hunger. I wasn’t nauseous for the first time since I could remember. Quitting the opioids had been the smart move. I was eating more, I could think a bit more clearly, and I had enough energy to contemplate my situation.
From the moment I’d woken up in the ICU, Denny had been by my side. He’d remembered every detail of my life I’d shared with him, including my rare blood type. He’d barely let the hospital staff attend to me without being in the room, and I’d latched on to the security his presence provided me during this terrifying ordeal. He’d asked multiple times if I wanted space. In answer, I always reached for his hand and squeezed.
I was terrified, and he was safety personified, despite our past.
He ran interference with the detectives, and he kept the reporters at bay, telling them I wasn’t ready to give a statement. I spent five weeks in the hospital. When the doctors sent me to the rehab unit, Denny came with. He tried to advocate for me as best he could, but they limited his visits, and the level of care was subpar. I’d been so miserable, and my health began to decline.
