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“No thanks, Mrs. Rand,” Cooper replied, flashing another smile in my mom’s direction. She gave a small nod and then started down the hallway with Ben following two steps behind. Before they rounded the corner, Ben gave me a last glance and flashed a thumbs-up before disappearing.
“Some welcome,” Cooper said, the warmth seeped out of his voice. “I don’t feel like you left me with much choice, Allie. If I wanted to know where you were and what was going on, I had to come and find out firsthand.”
I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to stamp my feet. “I was on a motorcycle for the last 20 plus hours, I did the very best I could to check in. I’m sorry it wasn’t up to your standards, but that doesn’t mean you needed to come down here and babysit me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that being with the woman I love during a family crisis would be considered babysitting,” Cooper snapped, taking two steps away from me. “Fuck! Allie, what do you want from me? I flew all the way out here on the red eye last night to be here for you as soon as you arrived, to support you, to do whatever you need me to do, and you’re treating me like an intrusion.”
A new searing of guilt scorched a trail down my spine at the wounded look in his eyes. His face was passive, and I knew from the outside, no one would suspect his true emotions, but his eyes told a different story. They held the truth—and it was heart wrenching. “Cooper, I’m—”
He stopped me, holding up his hand to indicate he was done with the conversation. “Take some time, figure out what you want.” He gave one last considering look at a spot between my eyes, then turned away and went down the hall opposite of the way my mom and Ben had just gone, leaving me alone in the hallway, completely torn in two.
Chapter Nine — Allie
We all stayed at the hospital until a little after six, at which point, my mom insisted we all go back to the house to have some dinner.
“Come on, let’s all go back to the house. Allie, you can shower and get changed and I’ll make us all a proper supper,” she said, standing up from her seat by my dad’s bed.
“Mom, you don’t have to cook,” I protested. “I’m sure that’s the last thing you feel like doing.”
She stopped in the doorway, glancing back at my dad. “Allison, stop being such a worry wart. I’m fine. Besides, I have food in the fridge that needs to be cooked or it’ll go bad, and you know I hate waste.”
The tone of her voice told me there was no room for a debate, so I stood, Cooper and Ben following my lead, and we all shuffled from the room. My mom checked in at the nurse’s station, letting them know she’d be back in a few hours, and then we all went out to the parking lot. Cooper walked a few paces from me, and the space between us ripped my heart out a little more with each step.
“Can I ride with you?” I asked him. “I’m pretty sure my body will mutiny if I even try getting back on Cherry Bomb right now.”
There was a flicker of a smile in his eyes as he nodded.
“We’ll see y’all at the house,” my mom called out to us, leading Ben in the other direction to where her car was parked.
Cooper led me to his rental car—some kind of hulking luxury car—and opened the passenger door for me. I winced as I slid into the seat, every inch of my body sore and worn out from the long ride. When he joined me, I turned and stilled his hands before he turned the key in the ignition. “I’m glad you’re here.”
His dark eyes locked with mine and he gave me a quick kiss before turning the engine over and pulling out of the lot. The ride to my parent’s house was silent, except for my directive cues, but when we stopped in the driveway, he looked over at me again, “There’s nowhere else I would rather be.”
* * * *
When we got inside, my mom already had the house filled with the sounds and smells of cooking. She couldn’t have arrived much more than ten minutes before us, but somehow had managed to prep a whole stack of potatoes, and had some veggies roasting in the oven. “Do you need a hand?” I asked, leaning against the arch that led into the small, but homey kitchen.
My mom glanced over her shoulder, her knife poised mid-chop. “No, no, dear. You go shower and get changed. I put some fresh towels on the bed in your old room. You can both stay in there.”
I blushed at the thought of Cooper and me sharing my childhood bed. It was just one door away from my parents’ room. In high school, I’d made out with my boyfriend on the couch, but had never made it to the bedroom. It was odd to think that Cooper was going to be the first—and maybe only—man I’d ever bring home. Sure, it hadn’t happened exactly how I would’ve planned it—but the point was the same. He was here and had already met my mom and brother Ben…and hopefully soon, he’d meet my dad.
“Are you sure, mom? This looks like a lot of work?” I asked.
“Yes, dear. I’ve got this covered and Ben went out to get some iced tea. Somehow we ran out. But you know you can’t have fried chicken without sweet tea!” She waved her knife in a shooing motion at Cooper and me.
I smiled, my stomach coming alive at the words. “You’re in for a treat,” I told Cooper, pointing at the stove. “My mom apparently makes the best fried chicken you’ll ever eat in your whole life—or so my dad says. I don’t do the chicken thing, but I’m sure you’ll love it!”
“Sounds good to me! The last thing I ate was a bagel sandwich at the airport,” Cooper said with a smile towards my mom—who, I could have sworn flushed slightly. I tugged on his arm and dragged him by the hand down the hall towards my old room.
I stopped short of opening the white door and turned to pin my back against it. “You have to promise you won’t judge me once you see inside this room,” I warned Cooper, my face stern.
He arched an eyebrow and reached past me, trying to grab the doorknob. “This is gonna be good…”
I smacked his hand. “I’m serious, Cooper. This was my room in high school, you know, like a hundred years ago.”
He laughed. “What are you worried about? Is it wallpapered with Backstreet Boys posters or something?”
I glared at him. “No. It’s just…well—” I huffed and flung the door open. I took three short steps into the room and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating the dark room. Cooper looked around and I followed the trail his eyes made as they landed on each new item. The walls were painted a dark eggplant color—a hard fought battle with my mom back when I was fourteen—and were littered with so many posters it was almost like a bizarre wallpaper job. In high school, I’d been very into punk music and most of the bands represented in the posters were no longer in existence, just a series of one-hit wonders, or local bands that had blown up pictures of themselves for sale at their concerts or open mic nights to scrape in a little extra
