Mom. Why was her mother calling her this early? No, she couldn’t even entertain the possibility that something had happened to them.
Sloane dropped heavily into her computer chair and opened the lid of her laptop as she called her mom back.
“Sloanie.” The warning in her mother’s tone robbed the nickname of all endearment.
“What, Mom?” Sloane’s own voice rose in panic. “What is it? Is it Dad?”
“No, Dad’s okay. We’re all okay.”
Sloane sighed. “Then why are you calling me at six-seventeen in the morning?”
“This is going to be hard for you to hear, Sloanie, but some investigator came by here yesterday sniffing around for information about you.”
Cooper’s father. This reeked of him. “Investigator?”
“I sent him away and didn’t think much of it until I got a call from—from Mrs. Jacobsen last night.”
Sloane’s heart pounded in her chest. “Last night? Why are you just now calling me?”
If Mr. Cooper had brought Aaron’s parents into this...
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to worry you.”
Her mother was afraid of setting her off, that’s what it was. “It’s okay, Mom. Thanks for—”
She was interrupted by the ringing of her video chat. Now Grace was calling when she knew Sloane would be asleep.
“I’ve gotta go.” She pressed the button on her cell phone, then answered the video call.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake.” Grace wore flannel pajamas, hair a wild tangle as if she’d been awakened herself. “I have good news and bad news. Levi intercepted some comments on your website. Bad ones.”
“What kind of comments?”
Her best friend ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know. It looks like they’re scanned images. I’m forwarding what Levi sent to me now.”
Images? What could that man have possibly done? Doctored photos of her or something? Like Cooper said, he was probably just trying to scare her.
Her email notification sounded. With one click, one glimpse of the tiny image thumbnails, nausea enveloped her. “These records were supposed to be sealed.”
How could Mr. Cooper have gotten his hands on them? Why?
She scrolled through them. A photo of her parents’ car, smashed beyond recognition. The tree with its wounded, charred trunk. The curve of the road, slick with rain. A picture of her next to her attorney, leg propped up in a cast, her face sunken and lifeless.
Had Cooper seen these?
“Levi deleted them and blocked the IP address.” By the dull tone in Grace’s voice, she had seen them, the piles and piles of scanned court documents that exposed what Sloane had done in fear. That exposed her as a fraud. It was all there, every detail of the court proceedings. Who knew if Grace would stick around once her obvious shock wore off?
“I’m so sorry. I don’t even—”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” Grace shook her head. “Anyway, Levi’s positive he deleted them before any of your readers could see, so that’s good.” Her optimistic words were undermined by the monotone in her voice.
No, it wasn’t good. Who cared what Sloane’s readers thought? Who cared that her ad network—who set their entire stock on appearances—would likely terminate her contract when they found out?
What mattered was what Grace and Levi thought. What Cooper thought.
Did he even know yet?
Sloane thanked Grace and closed her computer then stumbled to the bathroom just in time before she retched. Unable to handle the thought of Cooper finding out her lies from his father. Again.
And again. This was the ultimate, sickest irony. The man who’d placed so much importance on taking responsibility for his actions—he would never be able to look at her in the face again after he found out.
Sloane curled on her bathroom floor, shredded and empty, all the strength she’d gained over the last few months drained from her. Anger and shame and grief assaulted her until nothing remained but an image of Cooper. She pushed herself up on shaking arms, washed her face and went to get dressed.
Her past may have once again proven it would always keep up with her. But if there was any chance Cooper didn’t know yet and she could be the one to tell him—to make things even a sliver easier than his father blindsiding him—she had to try.
* * *
SHE WAITED ON the back doorstep of Cooper’s house until sunrise when she knew he’d take Maddie out.
“Sloane. Oh my gosh.” Cooper clutched his chest. “You should’ve knocked. I’ve been up working.” The light disappeared from his eyes when he peered at her. “What’s wrong?”
He reached for her, but Sloane moved. No, she couldn’t let him touch her.
“I have to tell you something.”
“Come in. I’ll make us some—”
“No, Cooper.” Sloane’s voice wavered. “I can’t. Your father, he—”
“What did my father do?” The anger in his tone bolstered her for a moment until she remembered this was her fault, not Mr. Cooper’s.
“It’s not what he did. It’s what I did.” Where was she supposed to begin? “I went to court after the accident, and he found those documents somehow. Posted them on my website. They were supposed to be sealed because I’m a minor—I was a minor.” Her chest constricted. “And because of my father. I never told you, but he’s a judge.”
Cooper took a step toward her, clearly confused by her seminonsensical rambling. “But you were just driving without a license. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“No. That’s not it.”
“So what happened?”
“I begged Aaron to tell them he was driving because I was afraid of what would happen when my parents found out. Afraid that I wouldn’t be allowed to get my license because I was only fifteen.” That fear seemed so stupid, so immature and selfish now. “I didn’t know he was going to die!”
Cooper stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, before he looked away. “So you lied to the police?”
Sloane nodded miserably. “And Aaron went to sleep with his parents angry at him. He died with them thinking he was a joyriding thief. I told my mom and dad the truth as soon as I was coherent because I wanted to pay. I wanted to rot in jail forever for killing him and doing that to his parents. But they were my dad’s coworkers in that courtroom—family friends my entire life—so they ruled the accident was caused by hazardous conditions and gave me community service only because I begged for some kind of punishment.”
There. It was out. The worst was over.
“Your father knows now—he hired an investigator or something. So I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
Cooper reached for the doorknob, seeming more disconnected than angry. “Is this the first Aaron’s parents are finding out?”
“My dad told them when it happened. I couldn’t do it.”
He said nothing. Minutes ticked by. Finally, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Gosh, Sloane. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why do you think? You’ve owned up to your past. You’re moving forward. Working yourself sick at the office even though your heart’s at the restaurant because you think you owe your family some kind of debt, for goodness’ sake. How could I tell you that I was essentially handed a get-out-of-jail-free card because of my father—and I took it?” Her self-loathing tasted bitter and acidic.
Cooper said her name, but Sloane didn’t let him say more.
“I thought that things were getting better being with you. But this just helped me see that Aaron’s death is never going to leave me alone.” Sloane felt the tsunami approaching and took a step backward and another, away from Cooper before it could drown him, too. “I can’t move forward with you because I’m alway
s going to be stuck in the past.” The emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She ran to where her driver was waiting while she still had the ability.
And Cooper didn’t follow her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
IT WAS TIMES like these that Cooper wished he’d kept one of the muscle cars he’d sold when he moved to Paris. That he could blow off steam as the needle of his speedometer climbed and his engine roared with every shift of the gears.
Instead, he headed in the direction of his father’s house in a state of numb disbelief. His numbers were back up, inbox empty, everything up to task at the expense of his sleep and sanity. Yet it seemed his father possessed the ability to dismantle all the good in Cooper’s life. What more did the man want from him?
Was this a control issue? Payback? A flex of his father’s ego? Because it sure wasn’t about Sloane. Cooper still hadn’t worked out the details, his hasty text to Owen unanswered since his brother was undoubtedly still asleep.
But he was going to find out.
Cooper had watched her leave, more broken than he’d ever seen her as guilt anchored him in place—This is your fault. You did this to her.
And worst of all, she’d pretty much agreed that she could never move forward with him holding her back. All the progress they’d made together was gone.
He twitched as the gate to his father’s residence crawled forward. His mind filled the seconds with questions. How could he have been so stupid to believe that Sloane would be safe with him? What consequences would she have to pay for her association with him?
How could he possibly make things right for her if he couldn’t make things right with her?
Cooper had the door open before he threw the gear into Park and stormed up the ridiculous, imposing steps to the stained glass door. It opened before he could knock. After the quickest nod of thanks to the housekeeper who’d let him in, he hurried down the hallway toward his father’s suite of rooms.
“Dad!” His roar echoed through the rich, wood-paneled walls.
No response.
As he neared the suites, he heard voices—a muffled argument—and the door to a living area at the end of the hall opened.
Ivy. His father’s wife paused when she saw Cooper, recognition softening the sadness in her eyes. The corners of her mouth lifted for a tick before she skirted past him so fast that he couldn’t help turning to watch her.
“What are you doing here, Coop?” The usual bluster and force was absent.
Cooper turned, and the sight of his father leaning against the doorframe at once filled him with anger and sadness. “I just want to know. Why did you do it?”
“Do what? What on earth are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Dad. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Nobody else but you would hire a private investigator to go to her hometown.”
A fleeting expression crossed his father’s face—something that might have been fear. “Frank Maldonado.”
“Who?”
“He’s an old detective buddy from the bar who does some PI work now.” His voice rose. “What did he do?”
“He went to her town trying to mess with things that happened years ago.” Cooper took a step toward his father, the energy building in his body with every word. “But it wasn’t Frank’s fault. It was yours. You knew she had no ulterior motives and kept pushing anyway.”
The older man’s lined face hardened. “She was making you sloppy. You were at a bar with her.”
“It was none of your business, Dad.”
“That’s garbage. You’re my son!”
Cooper couldn’t form another sentence. His father sunk his head into his hands, much as he’d done at Cooper’s side in the back of an ambulance while Marianelli’s burned.
How long would Cooper have to pay? And why did Sloane have to be collateral damage?
The slam of a door interrupted his thoughts, and Owen appeared shortly thereafter. Their eyes met as his brother approached them, and as he had since they were kids, Owen all at once seemed to understand.
“C’mon, Coop.” His brother pulled him away, shaking his head in disapproval at their father. “Let’s go before one of you does something stupid.”
* * *
THE STACCATO RHYTHM of the basketball pounding against the polished wooden planks soothed Cooper’s chaotic thoughts as he waited for Owen to get his shoes on. Didn’t do much for his anger, though.
“I tried—”
“I don’t want to talk about what you tried, Owen. C’mon, first to twenty.” He dribbled the ball to the top of the three-point arc. “I get ball first. Naturally.”
Owen didn’t object. He peeled off his fleece pullover and tossed it to the ground, flexing his neck as he took his place between Cooper and the goal. “Let’s do this.”
“Check.”
The ball thwacked against Owen’s chest. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and he passed it back with so much force that Cooper’s wounded finger twinged.
Cooper zipped past him for a reverse layup. The shot sliced through the net. His anger edged into pride at his brother’s indignant expression. “Two-oh.”
His jaw working, Owen took the ball at the top of the key. After that display of domination, Cooper was beating him by much more than two points.
The game heated up from there, brothers volleying points in a classic duel. Well-aimed jabs were flying—the kind that bruised and broke skin along with the verbal lashings of a whip that struck the surface but hit so much deeper.
“Get off of me!” Owen shouted at Cooper, who was guarding him like a second skin.
“Sixteen-all.” Cooper moved a fraction closer.
Owen shielded the ball against his opposite hip, eyes searching for his next move. Avoiding Cooper’s hands as they swiped at the ball. He dribbled, trying to skirt around him, but Cooper anticipated the movement and adjusted his feet to block Owen’s path.
“Nowhere to go, little brother?” he taunted. “Whatcha gonna do? Go cry to Daddy?”
In a split second, Cooper read Owen’s pivot toward the goal and took the bait. But instead, Owen’s shoulder crushed into his jaw with a force that careened him to the floor. He watched from his back as Owen swished an easy jump shot.
Cooper scrambled to his feet, fisting blood from his lip. “What’s your problem?”
“What’s my problem? Every time something like this happens, everyone looks at me like, What a waste. I wish it was you who’d gone off the deep end instead!” Owen launched into his brother, sending them both crashing to the floor. Like two lions struggling for territory, they swung and shoved and swiveled each other until at last, Owen’s swipe at Cooper’s collarbone slipped, and Cooper pinned him down.
Owen gave a sharp cry and tensed beneath him. “My shoulder! Get off!”
Cooper relaxed his grip on Owen’s shoulder in a panic. Had he hurt him? Aggravated his old wakeboarding injury?
Thud. Gray mesh flashed through his vision before the back of his head hit the court hard. He was trapped, forced to take in a full view of his brother’s victorious grin, no trace of pain to be found. And Cooper didn’t have the strength left to free himself from beneath Owen’s knees.
He’d been fooled. Again. Owen had done it enough in their lifetime to know Cooper would lay off every time if he thought he was hurt. He looked away from Owen to the bleachers where Sloane and Davon had watched last time he’d played. And the ache coursed through his blood again.
“Why didn’t you stop him?” he panted. “I get that you guys want me to stop playing restaurant. But tell me, how could you let him do that to Sloane? You don’t even know her.”
Owen sighed, his weight crushing into Cooper as he rolled off him. They sprawled next to each other, their lumbering breaths clas
hing in the air.
“I didn’t know this thing with Sloane was real until I heard your voice mail.” Owen sounded like he was eight again, whispering to him in the dark of their shared bedroom in the suburbs. “I thought Dad had gotten bored with it like he always does, but he had one of his old buddies on it, I guess.”
Cooper said nothing. He could still see Sloane—the desolation in her bare blue-gray eyes. He could hear the humiliation and defeat in her voice. It was real, all right.
“And I don’t want you to stop with the restaurant, either. You really know what you’re doing.”
“Dad doesn’t see that.”
“He’s just worried because he sees how worn out you’ve been lately. He’ll snap out of it eventually and see how great this has been for you.” Owen let out a low whistle. “Man, if I were half as good at anything...”
Cooper heaved a sigh. “You can be, though. Maybe you should have a breakdown and find out what that is.”
“Well, I hope that’s not what it takes—no offense.” Owen stood and reached to help Cooper up. “But I do hope that, once I get my life together, maybe I’ll have what you do with Sloane.”
Cooper’s lips formed a correction—had. What he’d had with Sloane—but the words died in his throat. It had only taken a few moments together, spread across the span of a few months, but he knew with aching clarity that he loved her.
And despite every warning sign that told him otherwise, it couldn’t end this way. No, if he had it his way, it couldn’t end at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JUST A FEW more hours and Sloane would be finished with the Cooper family forever after Simone’s grand opening, free to leave the exposed brick walls and the crowd that now closed in on her.
She sat, pinned to her chair by the expressionless golden-brown eyes that were missing the usual vitality that did things to her. The eyes she avoided, knowing that looking into them would cost a price she was too bankrupt to pay.
Eight, twelve, sixteen chair legs at this table.
A few more hours until she’d fulfill her obligations for VisibilityNet and terminate her contract with them by her own volition. Her mother had always told her not to make a major decision without giving it time, perspective. But after the way this assignment had gone, Sloane knew with absolute certainty that she was done with them.
With No Reservations Page 21