Page 12 of September's Bad Boy: Cooper
When the meeting finally ends, people spill out in small groups, some casting sideways glances, others offering curt nods. I stay behind to stack chairs and sweep up the trash. The solitude is welcome, grounding.
I’m bent over the last row when I hear the soft tread of footsteps.
Riley.
She walks in slowly, her expression unreadable but warm. There’s no judgment in her eyes, just quiet strength.
"Didn’t expect to see you," I say, leaning on the broom handle.
"Thought maybe you could use a friend. I wasn’t able to make the meeting, but a friend told me what happened," she says.
We stand in silence for a while, the hum of the empty room surrounding us.
Then she reaches for me, her fingers brushing mine before slipping between them.
It’s simple, but inevitable
We walk outside together. The parking lot is nearly empty, lit only by the soft amber glow of the streetlamp overhead. My truck waits under the light, the tailgate down from earlier when I unloaded gym mats.
I hop up onto it and gently tug her between my knees. She comes willingly, resting her hands on my chest, her eyes searching mine.
"Thanks for coming," I say.
"You didn’t have to face them alone," she replies.
Instead of answering, I lower my head and kiss her. Her lips are soft against mine, tasting faintly of mint and sweetness. The kiss starts gentle, tentative, like we're both testing the waters. Then she leans into me, her fingers curling into my shirt, and the dam inside me breaks open.
I cup her face in my hands, feeling the warmth of her skin, the way she trembles slightly when I deepen the kiss. The parking lot, the meeting, the accusations—all of it fades away. There's only Riley, only this moment stretching between us like a promise.
When we finally break apart, she rests her forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard. Her fingers are still twisted in my shirt, anchoring us together.
"Cooper," she whispers, and my name sounds different on her lips. Like it belongs there.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Yeah?"
"I believe in you." The words are simple, but they hit me harder than any accusation thrown around that meeting room. "What you're doing with the gym, the way you've changed—I see it."
The tightness in my chest loosens. I've been carrying the weight of this town's doubt for so long, I'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone truly see me. Not the man I used to be, but who I am now.
I brush my thumb across her cheek, memorizing the feel of her skin. "I don't want you getting caught up in this mess. People are going to talk, and?—"
"Let them." Her voice was fierce, surprising me. "I'm not going anywhere."
I lean in and kiss her again. This time it tastes like desperation and hope tangled together, like everything I've been holding back since I came home to Mustang Mountain. She responds with equal intensity, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.
When we break apart this time, we're both breathing like we've run miles. The night air feels cool against my heated skin, and I realize how completely she's managed to make me forget everything else.
"Not here," she whispers. "Not yet."
I rest my forehead against hers. "Okay."
She kisses me once more, sweet and lingering, before slipping away, her fingers trailing down my arm.
Then she’s gone. And I sit on the tailgate, staring after her, the ghost of her touch still warm on my skin.
Maybe the town isn’t ready.
But she is.
