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“Doesn’t matter.”
“We both know that isn’t true.” Coop grabs the remote from my lap and presses pause on the TV.
I exhale a sharp breath. “You really want to do this, Coop? Should we paint our toenails, have a pillow fight, and talk about our feelings?”
His lips twitch. “Sure, if it means getting your ass off this couch. You’re starting to stink.”
“Screw you.”
Duke stretches out next to me, rolls over, and farts.
“Your damn dog stinks too.” Coop groans, fanning the air in front of his face.
Duke lifts a lazy eye to see what all the commotion is about and then rolls back over. My fingers slip through his soft coat, rubbing at the sweet spot behind his ear. Coop pissed and moaned about getting the dogs from Mo, said I should let her keep them a few more days, but I needed to remove the temptation to see her.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be around much longer.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Come on, Coop. This isn’t permanent. I’m over a week into physical therapy, and my shoulder feels good.” There’s still a tight pain when I try to lift my arm, but it’s getting better by the day. “It’s been two weeks since the accident. I need to start focusing on my career and getting back on the bull.”
“You and that damn bull,” Coop says, shaking his head. “What about that photo shoot you were telling me about? I thought Nikki wanted to do that out at Dad’s.”
“I fired her.”
“Figured as much.”
I didn’t fire her that night at Dirty Dicks; she was way too drunk to understand what was going on. Coop and I put her up in a hotel, and I was there waiting for her in the morning when she woke up. I delivered the news and walked out—nothing she could’ve said was going to make a difference. Her breach of trust still takes my breath every time I think about it. Poor Mo. I mean, I have my own set of issues with Mo, but Nikki interfered in my life, manipulating my relationship to get what was best for her and her father without any thought about me as a person, and messed up my future in the process.
“Now what? Do you have another manager lined up?”
“Not yet, no. I contacted my lawyer. He’s drawing up paperwork to sever my contract with the Atwood Agency. I’ll wait until that goes through and then figure something out.”
My phone rings again. Coop and I look down at the same time to see Mo’s name flash across the screen.
“Must be pretty important if she’s calling back.”
“She doesn’t give a shit about me.”
Scowling, Coop stands up from the couch. “Is that really what you think?”
“You don’t know what she did, Coop. Trust me, if you knew, you would agree.”
“Maybe you’re right, maybe not, but you won’t tell me, so…” He looks at me meaningfully. “As things stand, I believe that woman cares about you.” Coop digs in his pocket, pulling out his phone.
He taps the screen a few times and drops it on my lap.
“What is this?” I ask, ignoring the pounding in my heart.
“Watch that and then tell me Mo doesn’t care about you.”
I drop my head, my eyes locked on Coop’s phone. The picture is shaky but clear as his face comes into view.
“Hey, brother.” He smiles into the camera before turning toward the bar. “Everyone is piled in at Dirty Dicks to watch the show. We’re all rooting for you. Everybody say hi,” he yells.
The camera scans the room, and there are several familiar faces. They all hoot and holler, each one fading out of the picture to make room for the next, and then the camera lands on Mo, and I stop breathing all together.
She glares at the camera before flipping it off, and then I’m left with another view of the room. The picture on the TV is faint, but I can make it out through the video. Everyone cheers as the announcers rattle off a series of statistics. Everything seems to happen much faster now that I’m watching it from Coop’s phone, and I gasp for air along with everyone in that room when I’m thrown from Lucifer. But what happens next nearly brings me to my knees.
