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My heart sinks along with my mood. I had hoped the time since he left this morning would give him a chance to realize I didn’t have anything to do with the destruction of his guitar. I guess that didn’t happen.
Reaching into my purse, I find the police report and slide it across the coffee table. “Here. The police said you might need this if your guitar was insured. They also said there isn’t really much they can do. Or, will do. They don’t think the guitar had equal value to how much work they would have to put in to find out who did it.”
He scoffs, and the smile on his face is full of cynicism. “No value, huh?”
“That’s just what they said. It’s not what I think. I know it meant a lot to you.” I look down at my fingers, tying themselves in knots. “Cooper, please believe me when I say I had nothing to do with this. And I’m sorry it happened. I do feel responsible since it happened in my building. I wish there was something I could do to fix it. To find the person who did it so they could pay. But my hands are tied. All I can do is tell you I’m sorry. And, pray you believe me.”
He stares at me for a long moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but some heavy consideration is going on in that brain of his.
Finally, he nods, leans forward, and picks up the police report from the table. “I know you didn’t do this, Sloane. I’m sorry I accused you of it. You were the first person to pop into my head when I saw it because we had just argued, and you had access. And you were the only person I could think of in the building who might be pissed off at me enough to do something like that.”
“Cooper, I would never--”
“I know, I know. Like I said, I realize that now, but I wasn’t thinking straight at the time. I saw the destruction, and then all I saw was red.” He drops his face into his hands and rubs at his eyes in frustration.
“Do you have any idea who else might have done it? Maybe that Nyx person you and Remy mentioned at the show? Or maybe an overzealous fan?”
“Nyx is always at the very top of my shit list, but yeah. I’m thinking it had to be her.” He laughs sarcastically. “Jesus, I was not in any shape this morning to deal with something like this.”
I don’t say anything, and my eyes drop to the table, knowing perfectly well what he’s referring to. The supermodel. His night on the town with her must have tired him out. When I glance up, I see him staring at me with an odd look on his face I can’t discern.”
“What is it? What’s the matter?” I ask, not sure if I want to hear the answer.
“I could ask you the same thing. You looked very uncomfortable there for a minute, and I’m just wondering why?”
My eyes shift back to the table, and I debate how much I want to say. After everything that’s happened today, do I really want to get into the stories on the internet? Who he might be seeing? None of it is my business. None of it has anything to do with me, so I don’t think I should say anything.
But there’s something at the back of my brain that itches as I think about it. Wanting to know the story. Something in the back of my heart that echoes with longing for the truth because I know we shared something this weekend. And for him to just push me aside like he did doesn’t feel right.
“It’s just. I don’t know....”
“Sloane, what is it? Something is eating at you. You can tell me what it is. Or ask me whatever it is you’re curious about because I can see it working away at you.”
Looking up at him, I see something I haven’t seen since Saturday. Something he’s been hiding ever since then. I’m not sure what it is, but it keeps him human. It’s also something he desperately tries to bury.
“I saw the story this morning on Blindsided. About your date last night.” I’m looking everywhere in the room except at him. For some reason, I can’t meet his eyes, and I don’t know if it’s out of fear of what I’m going to see and the self-protection of my heart. Or if I just don’t want to see the truth. Whatever it is, I can’t look at him. “That’s what I was upset about this morning when I saw you. I had just seen the article. So, even if I was mad about that, I wouldn’t have had time to destroy your guitar. But I hope you know there is nothing you or anyone could have done that would have compelled me to do that to anyone. I do hope you’ve learned that much about me. Even though you really don’t know me at all.”
“What story are you talking about?” His voice is edged with anger, and I can’t help but look at him now. I can see the frustration, and the lines on his face among all the bruises just emphasize his emotions. “I did not go on a fucking date last night. The only place I went was to the bar down the street, where I had a few too many shots and then stumbled home.”
“But the article....”
“Jesus Christ, Sloane. Have we not learned everything online is probably a lie by now? Especially when it comes to me? You should know it’s all bullshit.”
I hear what he’s saying. And I would agree with him if there weren’t pictures of him making out with that girl. And if he was that drunk… I dig into my purse and pull out my phone. I hate that I’m doing this, but I navigate to Blindsided’s website to pull up the article. Once I find it, I hand it over to him.
“Pictures don’t lie, Cooper.”
He takes it but doesn’t look at it. Instead, he stares at me. His eyes are cold and unfeeling. “But I do?”
Shaking his head, he glances down at the screen and zooms in on whatever he’s looking at. He swears to himself under his breath, stands, and tosses my phone on the table before going into the kitchen.
I don’t know what to make of any of that. Should I be waiting for more of a response? Should I go into the kitchen and confront him? Should I just fucking leave? It doesn’t help I don’t know where I stand with him, so I don’t know how to react.
So I do nothing. I just wait.
A few minutes later, Cooper is back. This time, he has his phone out and scrolls for a while before stopping and holding it for me to look at the screen. When I take it, I see a photo on his social media of him with the supermodel from last night in the exact same scenario.
I glance up at him, confused. I’m not sure what this is supposed to prove to me.
