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I skim the tip of my pointer finger over the lines of his muscled chest and down to his abs, stopping at the edge of his boxer shorts. “Promise you’re coming back?”
“Nothing in this world would stop me from coming back to you. Not now that I have you.” A predatory smile stretches across his face before he kisses me again.
Excitement and fear go to war with each other deep in my stomach. “I’ve wanted you for years. I’ve waited for you, Cooper Sinclair. Don’t you dare break that promise.”
“When I get back, we’ll figure everything out. I promise.” His eyes dance between mine. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” I refuse to let him see me cry. If I want this—want him—I’m going to have to get used to Cooper leaving. Even if I hate it with every fiber of my being. I know what he does for a living. What he’s always wanted to do. And I think I have a pretty good idea how much he loves it. So, instead of being weak and needy, I stand from the bed and hand him his shirt.
Once he’s dressed, he closes my balcony doors. “Don’t sleep with them open while I’m gone, okay?” He grips the back of my neck and draws me to him.
I reach up on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his. Sealing our promise. Soaking him in.
He kisses me reverently before he lets me go. “See ya soon, mini-Murphy.”
“Oh my God,” I laugh. “I haven’t heard that in years.”
Coop’s smile stretches. “I got you to laugh.”
“You did.” I touch my lips with my fingertips. “Be safe, Coop.”
He nods once, then walks through my bedroom door, closing it behind him.
He didn’t say goodbye.
We didn’t say goodbye.
Maybe that’s better.
I drop down onto my bed, and the first tear falls. Once the gates open, there’s no stopping the waterworks. After a few minutes, my bedroom door cracks open, and Emerson climbs into bed with me. Matching tear-tracks run down her cheeks.
“They’re going to be fine. Right?” Her last word gets caught on a sob.
“They’re going to be fine.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince us or willing it to be true.
But I refuse to accept that the universe would finally bring us together, only to take him from me now.
A week later,I’m tucked into the corner of the sage-green sofa with a cup of hot tea and my sketch pad when Jack comes upstairs from the basement studio. He holds his Gibson acoustic in one hand and a well-worn notebook in the other. There’s a chewed-up pencil stuck behind his ear, and judging by his bloodshot eyes, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t slept yet. I’m learning that’s not uncommon for Jack. According to him, his creative juices flow best at night.
Which is the complete and total opposite of me.
It’s been easy to throw myself into work, but instead of staying up all night, I’ve spent the past week waking up at the crack of dawn to work on new lingerie ideas. It’s an easy way to block out the fear I’ve felt every day Cooper’s been gone.
Jack and Theo moved in a few hours after Cooper and Linc left last Saturday. They had way more stuff to move than Em and me. They also had half their fraternity here, helping them throughout the day and late into the night.
Emerson and I didn’t bother joining them. Neither of us was going to be good company that day. But this is their home too, so we weren’t going to ask them to have everyone leave either. Instead, we Grubhubbed ice-cream supplies from the local market and binge watchedThe Witcherwhile we ate our feelings.
I let myself have that one day to wallow, then woke up Sunday, laced up my running sneakers, and went for a three-mile jog on the beach before anyone else had even gotten out of bed. Running in the sand sucks, but the sound of the waves lapping at the shore makes up for the extra burn in my thighs.
An entire week has come and gone since then, and still no word from Cooper.
No call.
No email.
No text.
And yup, I’ve becomethatgirl. The one who checks her phone obsessively to make sure it’s charged and that I haven’t missed anything. I’m getting on my own nerves. So, when Jack sits down next to me and places his black-spiral notebook in my lap, I put my sketch pad down and read over the words on the page.
