Page 23 of September's Bad Boy: Cooper
Jason looks around, sees the eyes on him, and straightens his spine. “So what? Everyone’s just okay with this now? Like none of it matters?”
Caitlin steps forward. “It does matter. But so does change. So does growth. I forgave Shane. Not because he deserved it right away, but because he worked to become the kind of man who did.”
Her words settle like dust in the silence.
Ruby’s voice follows, firm and unwavering. “People aren’t perfect, Jason. But if you’re going to judge someone, make sure it’s for who they are today, not who they used to be. We all have a past, filled with choices that don’t define who we are now. Should you be judged for the rest of your life because you got into that fight your freshman year? Label you a troublemaker?”
Jason swallows hard, jaw clenched. “You all think I’m the bad guy.”
“No,” I say softly. “We think you’re stuck. But you don’t have to stay that way.”
He shakes his head, the weight of the moment pressing on him, then turns and storms out the front doors without another word.
The silence holds for a beat too long until someone clears their throat and reaches for a paintbrush. The work resumes, but the mood that Cooper and I had earlier has shifted.
Cooper steps beside me, brushing his fingers lightly against mine. I let him.
We finish the trim together, side by side, in silence. But everything feels louder somehow. As if something cracked open and the pieces haven’t found their place yet.
Later, after the others are gone, and the sun has dipped low behind the trees, Cooper leans against the front wall of the gym and looks at me with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. “What you said. Defending me like that.”
Wiping my hands on a rag, I step closer. “I wasn’t defending you. I was telling the truth.”
He breathes out, reaching for my hand. “I’m scared,” he says again, softer now. “Of loving you too much. Of losing you because of who I was.”
I lace our fingers together. “Then don’t lose me. Just let yourself believe you deserve this.”
He looks away, jaw working, before he says, “Jason… he called me Dad the other day. First time. He just… said it. And for a second, I thought maybe things were finally turning around.”
I squeeze his hand, my heart aching for the weight of what he’s carrying.
“But today,” he continues, voice thick, “he looked at me like I was that same guy again. Like I hadn’t changed. Like none of it mattered. And I just… I felt it slipping. The fragile progress. Maybe I messed everything up again.”
“You didn’t,” I say firmly. “You didn’t mess anything up. He’s scared too. But he saw you, Coop. And he’ll remember that.”
His eyes close for a beat. “I want to believe that. I want to believe I’m not just screwing this all up.”
Taking his face in my hands, I force him to look at me. “You’re not messing anything up. I think today was more about me and Jason than you and him. He saw us together, and he's still mad at me. We haven't worked everything out, and that spilled over onto you. I'm so sorry.”
His brow furrows. “Riley, no. Don’t be sorry.”
“I didn’t mean for you to feel like you were caught in the middle,” I say, still feeling guilty.
“I’d rather be in the middle with you than standing on the outside alone.”
I smile through the ache in my chest, but he keeps going, his thumb brushing along the back of my hand.
“Stop blaming yourself for his reaction. What you did was brave. You don’t owe a single person an apology for that.”
“But I still hate that it hurt you,” I whisper.
He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. “It didn’t hurt because of what you did. It hurt because I care. Because I want all of this to work so badly, it scares the hell out of me.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
“We’re going to figure it out,” I say.
