Cooper’s head jerked, and he took a step back. “What about her?” He spit out the words, his jaw so tight, he could barely speak.
“She’s back in the States.”
Shock temporarily stole Cooper’s ability to speak, and he glanced away, thoughts twirling in a hundred different directions. Holly Adams, back in the United States? Since when?
“How do you know?” he asked roughly, any bit of lightness he’d claimed this weekend now all but gone.
“She stopped in to see Mom in Florida the day before yesterday.” Maverick’s face looked pained. “She wants to see you.”
“Not gonna happen,” Cooper snarled, that anger inside him burgeoning into something so big, Mountain Man behind the bar snapped to attention. He felt the weight of the large man’s glare, as well as the curiosity of the few patrons at the bar.
“Maybe you should.”
Cooper’s head jerked back so fast, he saw stars. “Are you kidding me? After what she did? After…” Throat tight, he couldn’t get anything more out. That old rage, the dark thing that he’d tried so hard to bury, surfaced, and along with it came a feeling of helplessness. He’d written off that chapter five years ago, and he sure as hell had no desire to deal with it again.
Ever.
Maverick was now on his feet, and neither one of them cared that they were in the middle of a bar with about twenty to thirty folks paying rapt attention to the unfolding drama. Mountain Man moved a little closer, tossing a rag across his shoulders as he leaned against the bar, dark eyes watching the two men closely.
“Does Morgan Campbell mean more to you than just a weekend in the sack?”
“What the hell does Morgan have to do with Holly Adams? How does Holly even figure in my life today?” He pushed past his brother, but Maverick didn’t back down. He grabbed Cooper’s arm and didn’t let go.
“Holly has everything to do with you and Morgan. Don’t you get it? Morgan could be the one. The girl to fix that piece of you Holly destroyed. But how will you ever know with Holly in the way?”
“Holly isn’t on my radar.”
Maverick shook his head slowly. “She is. You just don’t know it. And until you deal with Holly, she’ll always be there. Whether she’s in Europe or Florida or Timbuktu. You need to face what happened and forgive her. Jesus Christ, Coop. You need to forgive yourself.”
Cooper saw red, and for a second, fists clenched at his sides, he fought the urge to throw a punch.
“That’s never gonna happen.”
Maverick got in his face. “Then you’re royally screwed. You’ll keep running your entire life and end up alone with a bottle of bourbon for company and not much else. Hell, you can’t even face the success you’ve earned, because in the beginning, she had everything to do with it.”
“Fuck you.” Cooper could barely speak. He reached for his keys and started toward the exit. His mood was foul, his anger so palpable that the folks in the bar parted like the Red Sea as he approached them.
Cooper strode across the parking lot and slammed his door shut so hard, the Land Rover shook. He fired up the engine and headed for the open road, his only thought to get back to his place and be alone.
Once there, he cut the engine and sat in the cab of his truck for so long, his teeth were chattering from the cold. Holly Adams. Back in the States.
Cooper slid from his truck and stared up at the star-speckled sky above him. He glanced at his silent home. At the dark windows and empty rooms. He stood there for a long time, letting wave after wave of anger roll over him, until, with an abrupt move, he headed to the back of the house and made his way out to the shop.
He was restless. Full of anger and pain, and he needed an outlet before he did something stupid. He snagged a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard in the kitchen and then settled himself at his desk, booting up the desktop while he poured himself a generous glass of the amber liquid.
He downed the damn thing before the computer was fully functional. And then tossed the glass, deciding it was a straight-from-the-bottle kind of night. He stared out the window into the dark for a long time, fighting memories he had no wish to revisit. That last night had nearly done him in.
With a curse, he opened his document, took another swig of whiskey, and got to work. He was nearly at the finish line with this project, and, fueled by a bunch of stuff he didn’t really want to think about too closely, he set about finishing it.
It was time. Ready or not, Cooper needed to move on.
26
Morgan hummed a tune as she slid from the bed and stretched. It was Monday morning, and she still ached in places that hadn’t ached in years. With a small smile, she winced—she was totally fine with that. In fact, aside from the aches and pains, she was feeling pretty damn good.
Huh. Who knew?
It was early, barely past seven, but the sun was up, and she cracked open her window, letting in the fresh April air. Inhaling deeply, she pressed her face to the cool glass and watched a squirrel tear across the lawn, tail twitching, limbs frenetic as it disappeared beneath the bushes that lined the back of their property. Buds sprouted, and small patches of pink appeared amid the greenery. They shook—the little guy was on the hunt for something—and, restless, Morgan pulled back, glancing at her cell phone.
She picked it up and scrolled through the messages she’d received last night. There were five of them. One from her sister—a dramatic YOU NEED TO TELL ME EVERTHING sort of thing—and four from Nathan. All of them asking to meet. Her finger hovered over his name.
He wanted to talk? A few weeks ago, the thought would have sent her into a tailspin. But now? Now she had some things to say, and it was time she got them out. She tapped on his name and responded.
I’ll be at Charmed Life in an hour.
She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until the screen lit up, and she exhaled in a rush. It was Nathan.
I’ll be there.
Morgan stared at his message so long, her eyes blurred, and with a start, she tossed the phone and hurried to the bathroom. She’d done a lot of thinking last night and knew it was finally time for her to leave her past behind. Cooper was right. No way would her mother be happy with the person she’d become. Heck, if her mother were here right now, she’d kick Morgan’s butt and tell her to get on with it.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror—took in the glowing pink face, the mouth still swollen from a weekend of Cooper Simon kisses—and smiled. She looked good, but she could look better. If she was going to say good-bye to Nathan, to a past that no longer held sway over her future, she was going to damn well look good doing it.
Exactly thirty-five minutes later, she walked into the kitchen intent on grabbing some granola, berries, and yogurt, but came up short when she spied her father at the kitchen sink. He was rinsing a coffee mug, which in itself wasn’t out of the ordinary, but the man was never out of bed before ten. At least not since Morgan had been back in Fisherman’s Landing.
“You want coffee?” he asked. He didn’t turn around, though he did crank his head to the side.
“No, I…” She cleared her throat and walked to the fridge. “I’m just grabbing some breakfast before I head out.”
“Kind of early to be going out to the McLaren place.”
“I’m not going out there just yet.” She grabbed the yogurt and set it on the counter.
Her father turned around and leaned against the sink. He was dressed in work clothes—clean work clothes—and his pants were pressed down the middle. Sure, he was pale and needed a shave, but his eyes were clearer than they’d been in a good long while. A knot sprang up in her throat, and she had to work a bit to clear it.
“Where you headed, girl?”
There was no use lying. “I'm meeting Nathan for coffee.”
Her father’s gaze narrowed a bit and his lips thinned as he tossed the tea towel onto the counter and set his mug beside it.
“I ran into him at the hardware store. Did
n’t have much to say to me. Hell, he couldn’t look me in the eye.”
She gave a half shrug.
“He’s still with Christy.”
Morgan nodded. Not much she could add to that.
Her father was silent for a few moments, his gaze sliding away from hers, his jaw tight. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled, but she heard the emotion behind the words. He was upset, and it seemed as if he was struggling to find the right words.
“That boy was like a son to me.” He pushed back his cap and ran hands over the whiskers on his chin, a faraway look in his eyes. It lasted all of two seconds and then he cleared his throat. “Why are you bothering with him?”
“It’s just coffee. Nothing more.”
Her father’s head jerked back, and his pale gaze zeroed in on her. “He was never good enough for you, Morgan. You deserved better. He should have been with you for the whole ride. Both of us should have.” His voice was filled with disgust. “Don’t let him off easy.”
That stupid lump came back and clogged her throat. Morgan had to work hard to clear it, and by the time she did, she was breathing too fast and felt dizzy.
Her father grabbed his keys off the counter and moved toward her. For a moment, she thought he was going to touch her—he paused, inches away—and after a few seconds, he tugged at the brim of his cap and nodded toward the back door.
“Hank and I are working on the equipment today. Hoping to expand the grass cutting this spring.”
“Okay,” she managed to whisper, watching him as he walked by and reached for the door.
He opened it a crack. “I was sitting in the dark last night and saw you come in. Been a long time since I saw a smile on your face.” His voice lowered, colored with a rough edge. “It was a nice thing to see.” He slowly cleared his throat. “I meant what I said. Don’t believe any of the bullshit Nathan is going to throw at you. He wants your forgiveness because he failed you. We both did. That’s on us. Not on you.”
Without another word, he yanked on the door and headed outside. Morgan stood as still as a statue, letting the silence of the house roll over her and soothe her fractured nerves.
What the hell had just happened?
Shivering now, stomach decidedly not in the mood for food, Morgan put the yogurt back in the fridge and grabbed her keys. The fresh air was crisp, the sun on her face amazing, and by the time she parked in front of A Charmed Life, she was somewhat in control of her emotions.
Okay. So maybe her hands were shaking and she felt as if she was going to puke, but still, she was here. She was going to deal with things and move on.
She got out of the car and headed inside the diner before she chickened out.
“My goodness, Morgan. Nice to see you, honey.” Jessie beamed at her from behind the counter and held up a coffeepot. “You want a cup? It’s fresh.”
Morgan nodded. “Please.”
“Grab a booth, and I’ll bring it over.”
The diner was nearly full, and Morgan nodded at the “gang of four” as she walked by. Used to be the “gang of five” until her father had pretty much become a hermit, but his old pals waved heartily and got back to their business of eating and talking. She slid into the last booth along the wall. It was in shadow and mostly out of sight, which suited her just fine. She’d just taken off her jacket when Jessie appeared with a fresh, steaming cup of java.
“Smells good,” Morgan murmured.
“Not as good as you look, sweetheart.” Jessie winked. “I guess the air is a bit fresher out at the McLaren place.”
Morgan sputtered and nearly choked on her coffee, while Jessie chuckled. “That’s all I’m going to say about that. You having breakfast? I’ve got fresh waffles and berries.”
“No, thank you. Coffee is good.”
“Okay. Just give me a shout if you need anything.”
Morgan glanced at her watch. Nathan would be here at any moment. She peeked around the corner of the booth, eyes on the door, and her stomach turned over when it opened. It wasn’t Nathan, and the relief that flooded her made Morgan wonder if this was a good idea after all.
She stared at her coffee cup, her thoughts fragmented, jumping from her father to Cooper to Nathan and Christy. When the hell had things gotten so complicated? For a girl stuck in limbo, all of a sudden there was a hell of a lot of movement in her life. Made a girl wonder, was she strong enough to handle it all?
“Hey.”
She jerked her head up, fingers hitting the edge of her coffee cup, and if Nathan hadn’t grabbed it, the blue ceramic mug would have ended up on the floor. Heart in her throat, she felt a wave of heat rush over her at about the same time her stomach took a tumble.
Nathan’s dark eyes stared down at her as he slowly pushed the cup back in front of her. His dark hair was still wet, as if he’d come straight from the shower, and his jaw was shadowed, just like always. Dressed casually in slacks, a white dress shirt, and a charcoal-gray spring coat, he was obviously on his way to work.
He slid into the booth across from her, and for a few seconds, neither one of them spoke. Nathan placed his hands on the table, hands that used to belong to her. Hands she used to hold. She stared at them a moment longer, not really sure how she felt about that.
“You look great, Morgan.” He spoke hesitantly, as if unsure how to proceed.
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she looked away, her gaze on the window, thinking about the things her father had said this morning. The things her sister Sara had said a few days earlier. And she realized something. She didn’t want to do this polite thing. Didn’t want to dance around the elephant between them.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked, turning back to Nathan, her gaze direct.
He looked surprised at her question. Or maybe it was the tone of her voice. Had it been that long since she’d had the balls to say what was on her mind? She thought about it and realized that, yes, it had. Ages, actually.
“I thought we should talk.”
“Why?”
“I…” He muttered something under his breath, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “We haven’t really talked since, ah…” Again, struggling for the right words. She was only too happy to help him.
“Since you had your mother come to my house and tell me you and Christy had headed to LA?”
His cheeks burned red, and that made her feel good. He glanced away. “I’m sorry for that.”
“You should be. You’ve had six years to make it right.”
He winced at her words. Actually winced. And damn but it felt good. Emboldened, Morgan fingered the edge of her cup. “So why the need to see me now?”
“I…well… I didn’t know you’d moved back to Fisherman’s Landing.”
She took a sip of coffee and set it back, her movements measured and precise. “Are you saying that you and Christy wouldn’t have moved back here if you did?”
“No, I…” He sighed and sank back in his seat. “I would have tried to see you first. To let you know so that it wouldn’t be awkward. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just…sorry about everything.” He splayed his hands along the top of the table. “I should make it clear. We don’t want to hurt you.” He paused. “Christy and me.”
Wow. Unbelievable.
Morgan’s hands shook, so she hid them under the table. Not because she was scared or upset or anything like that. She was mad as hell. Plain and simple. Had she really wasted years grieving the loss of these two?
She leaned forward and held his gaze so that there was no mistaking her words or her meaning. She needed to get this right.
“First off, Nathan, you’re giving yourself way too much credit. You’re not on my radar anymore. Not at all. I’ll admit running into you and Christy at La Spagatt was a little weird for me, but that’s all it was. Weird.”
He looked uncomfortable as hell, which gave Morgan an almost savage satisfaction.
“Secondly, you gotta remember my bullshit meter is pretty damn
high. You don’t want to hurt me?” She made a tsk-tsk. “Please. You’ve already hurt me more than anyone ever has. The revulsion on your face that first time you saw me naked? That hurt. But even that didn’t compare to how it felt knowing you left my hospital room night after night and went straight to Christy. Jesus, you would tell me you loved me, even though you were careful not to touch me, and then go screw her.”
His eyes widened, and his gaze slid from hers, that nasty, guilty countenance more pronounced than ever.
“Don’t you dare look away from me. Be a man for once and take this like you should.”
Nathan ran a shaky hand through his hair and met her gaze once more. “How did you…”
“I knew all along.”
“I… How?” he asked quietly.
“I knew it in my heart long before my head got involved. It was Sara who filled me in on the reality of the situation.” She sat back. “My sister wanted blood, and you should thank me for talking her down, because Sara would have torn you apart.”
He nodded but didn’t speak.
“So you see, I know about the hurt thing. I’ve been there, and I’m over it.” She paused for a moment as that realization washed over her, because, Jesus, she really was over it. “But there are a few things I need to say, and then we’re done. I want you to know that it wasn’t okay for you to fuck my best friend.”
“Shit, Morgan.”
“I didn’t tell you that you could speak.”
He winced at her crudeness, but Morgan didn’t care. There was something liberating in that knowledge. She didn’t give a flying rat’s ass what he thought. Not anymore.
“I want you to know that using the accident as an excuse to hide your betrayal wasn’t okay. That was low. You wanted out? You should have broken things off then and there.” She eyed him closely. “Looking back, I think you liked playing the part of poor Nathan. The guy whose fiancée was horribly scarred in an accident. You liked the attention.”
“I—”
“Shut up.” It was her turn to pause as she dragged in a deep breath.
“I want you to know that making me believe I was the problem was definitely not okay. And making me feel unloved and ugly and repulsive was so far offside, you should be ashamed of yourself. All those things are a reflection of your weakness, and I'm mad that it took me so long to figure it out.”
Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6) Page 18