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“Your dad came by looking for you. I think you should go home,” he grunts, no longer looking as furious.
I wince at his words and grab my jeans that have been placed in a chair in his room. “The last place I want to be is home.” No, I’d rather be curled up next to Copeland on a Sunday morning in his bed than having to have my ass handed to me by my dad. I quickly get dressed and then find my phone. I have several missed calls from Dad and some texts from Dante asking if I want to hang out today. Ignoring Dad, I reply back to Dante.
Me: Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.
As soon as I pocket my phone, I look up to find Cope watching me with narrowed eyes.
“What?” I demand, irritated over his weird attitude this morning.
“Dante?” he sneers.
“Yeah, so?”
He rolls his eyes and turns to walk away, but I snag his bicep. Our eyes meet and the anger burns bright and volatile between us.
“Don’t come crying to me when he uses you,” he snaps, attempting to shake me away.
My grip tightens. “I’m not going to let him use me. What the hell is your problem this morning?”
His jaw clenches and his blue eyes flicker with fury, shaking me off his arm. “I thought we could spend one night together without you trying to make a move on me.”
I frown in confusion. “What?”
He darts his gaze to the floor. “I woke up to your arm around me.”
“Give me a break,” I groan. “I was asleep!”
His head lifts and I notice his face is red with embarrassment. Guilt seeps into me and I let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry, okay?” I run my fingers through my hair and plead with my eyes. “I honestly didn’t mean anything if I touched you. Come on, Cope. Don’t be like this.” I swallow down the rising panic at losing him over a stupid sleepover. “I need you right now.” I need you forever.
His shoulders sag and the anger bleeds away. “It’s fine,” he grunts. “Sorry I overreacted.” His face flames red again. “It’s just…when my dad came in to wake me to tell me your dad was here…” He trails off, palming his face in frustration. “It didn’t look good. You’re not the only one who has to have a talk with his dad.”
Taking a chance like old times, I grip his shoulder and pull him to me. I hug him and try desperately not to inhale him. He’s stiff at first but then hugs me back. I could hold on to him for hours, but before I can memorize the way he feels in my arms again, he’s already pulling away.
“Let me do the talking,” I tell him as I start for the door.
Bryan Justice may have always been an ass to his son, but the guy likes me for whatever reason. I think in some warped way, I’m everything he wishes Copeland were. Prior to ruining my football career, I had a lot going for me. Decent grades. A good head on my shoulders. A bright future. Cope had a trashy girlfriend, no longer plays sports, and is a tattooed troublemaker. It’s like when we were younger, his dad predicted how his son would turn out and was bitter there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
Cope doesn’t argue with my suggestion, so I wind my way through the house with him on my heels until I find Bryan in the kitchen drinking coffee. He’s dressed in a suit, which means he’s headed for the office. One good thing about Cope’s dad is that he’s a workaholic and is even gone a lot to the office on weekends. He spends more time away from home than actually in it. It’s why Cope always had to have a nanny growing up. His real mom bailed and moved to California. He acts like being abandoned by his mother is her loss—which it is—but it still affects him, no matter how much he tries to deny it.
“Morning, Mr. Justice,” I say as I help myself to a cup of coffee.
Cope stands tense nearby with his arms crossed over his chest.
Bryan looks up from his phone and studies me. “Long time, no see, son.”
“Been busy,” I reply as I dump in several scoops of sugar into my coffee. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night.” I wave my cast in the air and then point at my bruised cheek. “Dad wasn’t exactly happy about this.”
When I turn, Bryan’s eyes are focused on my hand.
“Broke your moneymaker, huh?” Bryan asks.
“It’s just football,” I grunt. “I’m more than just an arm.”
“I’m glad some of us around here use our brains too,” Bryan sneers, darting a glance over at Cope. I don’t need to see Cope to know he flinched at those words that were aimed at him. “I see you two boys are awfully friendly again.” Bryan’s eyes are sharp and focused like Cope’s. Like he’s waiting for me to come out of the closet and drag Cope along with me. That’ll never happen.
