“I promised you, do you remember? I told you if the day came and you were too close to that line, that I’d stand in front of you. I don’t break my promises.”
“I crossed that line in Mexico City.”
“No,” he assured her, his voice steady and sure. “You didn’t. You took that shot to save me. But this is different. This is bitter and angry and vengeful.”
“None of that stopped you,” she snapped off. “I let you finish things. Let you have the final say.”
“It’s different, Coop, and you know it. Killing Matías didn’t condemn another. There was no collateral damage.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Olivia York is still missing,” Will said. “I know you’re mad, and I know it’s easy to blame her for this. But she’s an innocent, Cooper. She didn’t know what Reeves was up to behind her back, but once she did, she tried to stop it.”
“You’ll find her,” Cooper said, working hard to convince herself that York was not her problem. “Reeves—”
“Doesn’t know where she is. He doesn’t have those kinds of resources. But Davis does.”
“I don’t care,” she forced out through clenched teeth, but the words lacked the ruthless conviction she tried to infuse them with.
“Will it make it better?” he asked quietly, his gaze still fixed on the trees. “Tell me that killing him will make you feel better, Cooper. Tell me that you’ll stop hurting. That you’ll stop blaming yourself. Tell me that doing this will erase a single ounce of the guilt you’ve shouldered for Cole’s death. Tell me that taking this shot won’t destroy you. Tell me it’s what you need to move on, to move forward. Tell me it will bring you peace and closure and I will move. I will give you what you gave me. Tell me it will save you, Cooper, and I will step aside.”
She wanted to, oh God, how she wanted to. But she couldn’t lie to him. Not ever again. “It’s my fault.” The confession was easy but raw and sharp as it left her throat all the same. “I pulled that trigger. It was my choice—”
“Is that what you think? That you made a calculated, measured decision? That you chose who lived and who died?”
“He had a gun and you were defenseless and I-I—” She took a deep breath, forced back the memory that was sharp and vivid and cruel. Would it always be this way? Would she always remember Cole as the man in the market? The one she’d barely recognized, he was so cold and hard and devoid of every single thing she’d loved about him. Would he ever be more to her than the guy who’d tried to kill Will? “I shot him. I killed him. That’s on me. I could have—”
“Could have what? If you hadn’t taken that shot, he would have killed me, Coop.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, honey, I do. And so did you.” He shifted a little from foot to foot, but otherwise didn’t move. “But it wasn’t a choice, Cooper. You weren’t judge, jury and executioner that day.”
“I—”
“You did what you are trained to do,” he stressed. “We both know that when it comes to threat assessment in the field that sometimes decisions are made in seconds. Heartbeats. There was no choice, honey. Your job was to protect your assets on the ground. To provide cover.” He sighed and his voice went deep and rough, like he wanted to reach for her, touch her, hold her, and was beyond frustrated with the fact that he couldn’t.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Let me ask you this,” he said, his voice a steady thrum in her ear. “Same situation. Same setup. Except this time, Pierce was there, instead of me. Does it turn out any different?”
She hesitated for a long moment. She wanted to say yes, yes it would, and yet . . . the truth was she couldn’t be entirely sure. Because Will was right, from an operational standpoint, she’d acted on instinct, identified and neutralized the threat.
“What if the roles had been reversed?” he asked, pushing her. “What if you were working with Cole to try to save me? Pretend I’d made you eggs on toast years ago, Cooper.” A smile, small but warm, entered his voice and graced his face. “Pretend it was me that had gone through that cognitive trial. You would have fought for me. Come for me. Done everything you could to save me.”
He wasn’t questioning it, she realized with a warm sense of pride. He just knew. How she felt about him. How far she’d go for him. Will might still be struggling, might still feel unsteady and unsure, but not about her. And for reasons she didn’t examine, that mattered.
“Would you have let me kill Cole?” he asked.
“No,” she said, and though doubt tried to thread its way through the hypothetical, she knew, down to her bones, that she’d have taken the shot. Covered her asset on the ground. It didn’t matter who it was.
But it didn’t change anything. Will was still alive and Cole was still dead, and Cooper had been the one to kill him. Maybe the action itself hadn’t been selfish, but how could she ever look at Will, touch him, hold him, love him, and not hate herself for the price she’d paid for the privilege?
“You didn’t choose me over Cole, honey,” Will continued, a soft comfort in her ear. “You didn’t choose love over loyalty. You didn’t choose what you wanted over what he needed. You’re not that selfish, Cooper, and your sense of loyalty is not that shallow.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m not sorry,” she whispered.
Will barked out a startled laugh. “That I’m not dead? Gotta admit, I’m damn glad to hear it, Coop.”
“But I should be. I should want to do it all over again. Want to do it differently. How can I be so, so grateful that you’re alive, when Cole isn’t?”
The laughter died and Will went still. “Do you remember what you told me in Costa Rica? That I could be grateful that I lived, even though so many others had died. Grief and happiness are not mutually exclusive, Cooper. You can come home to me, wake up with me, be happy with me, and that will in no way diminish your loyalty to Cole. You can grieve for him and move on with your life. Cole would want that for you. Would be pissed as all hell if his death destroyed your life.”
Will wasn’t wrong, and she wouldn’t argue with him. Cole would expect her to move on. To be happy. It wasn’t something they’d talked about, but it was something they’d lived with. Their jobs were dangerous, and they lived and worked with the knowledge that they might not always be partners.
But they’d always be friends.
“He’d expect me to finish this, Will,” she said, settling back in behind the rifle. “He’d want me to make sure it could never happen again.”
“And we will,” he assured her. “But not today. Not like this.”
“He deserves to die.”
“But Olivia doesn’t. Please,” he whispered, his tone going rough with a plea she’d never be able to deny, “help me bring her home. It’s been six months. I know what that’s like, and—”
“Okay.” She sighed, already halfway through disassembling her rifle.
“What?” he asked, startled into stepping forward.
“Okay,” she repeated on a huff. She’d heard him beg her once, just once, and never again. She couldn’t stand it. Wouldn’t hear it. Not under these circumstances. “Just . . . just promise you won’t let him get away with this. Don’t let him cut some deal he doesn’t deserve.”
“I promise. Now get down here—”
She shook her head and shouldered her bag. She wasn’t ready. Going to Will, it meant moving on, moving forward, and it was just . . . too much, too soon. “I can’t.”
“Cooper—”
This time, the plea was hers. “Please don’t ask me to. I—” she swallowed hard. “There are things I need to do.”
“Let me do them with you, Coop. You don’t have to do any of this on your own anymore,” he reminded her. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“If I come to you now—it’s the easy thing.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
No, no it didn’t. But she couldn’t be sure. Not yet. Not
without some time and space. “I can’t trust myself right now. If I come to you,” she started and willed him to understand what she barely grasped herself, “I won’t know if it’s because everything’s broken and hard and scary, or . . .”
“Or if you really want me,” he finished for her.
“I just need to find my feet.”
“How much time do you need?”
She picked her way through the woods and back toward the trail. She didn’t know. Wasn’t even sure why she wanted it or what to do with it. But she knew she needed it. “I don’t know.”
“You’re free to go, Coop,” he said, repeating something he’d told her not that long ago. “And I’m free to follow.”
“Will—”
“I’m giving you a head start—and the time you’re asking me for—but I’m not letting you go, Cooper Reed. Because even if you’re not sure what you want, I am. You’re my home, Coop. And I’m always going to come back to you.”
A smile, small and fragile and real, touched her mouth. “Pretty sure of yourself, Bennett.”
“I know you, Cooper. How long do you really think it’ll take me to catch up?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
“I’ll see you soon.” And just like that, promise made, he hung up on her.
See you soon.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The scent of burning cedar chips and charred meat greeted Cooper when she pulled to the curb outside her parents’ carefully restored two-story craftsman.
Strange, the way some things never changed. The paint still looked fresh and new—her mother’s doing, no doubt—and the lawn was still bright green and neatly trimmed, not a stray weed or overgrown patch to be found—her father’s doing, as he liked the lawn the way he liked his hair, close cut and tightly regimented. The woods still sprawled in the back, and the same ancient pickup still sat in the drive.
And even with the car doors shut and windows up, she could hear children shouting and music playing. The first Sunday of the month and the family barbecue was in full swing.
Her hands went damp with sweat. She’d called ahead, of course, because the last thing she’d wanted was to rise from the dead just to send her parents to their graves with shock. There’d been tears and questions—so many questions—most of which she’d been able to evade or smother under her parents’ heady sense of relief.
But now, she’d have to face them. Face the changes that time and grief had wrought.
She climbed out of the car and snapped the door shut behind her. How was it possible that after all of the places she’d been and all the challenges she’d faced, this was the one that felt the most intimidating?
She started up the walk and was halfway up the steps when the screen door creaked and her mom stepped out onto the shaded porch. “Cooper?”
Cooper froze, but her mother didn’t, rushing forward on a noise that launched like a sob but flew through the air like a laugh.
“Hey, Mom,” she said before her arms were full and her mother, who still smelled the same—like lemon-iced sugar cookies—had her arms around her.
Her mom squeezed her twice, then forced her back a step. “You’re tan,” she said, running a critical eye from the top of Cooper’s freshly dyed hair—back to natural, which also felt strangely weird—to the bottom of her tried and true sneakers, which had, thank God, followed her around the world and kept her footing firm, even when everything else was shifting. “And you’re too thin by half. Come on,” she said, linking her arm through Cooper’s and leading her through the house. “Your dad started grumbling about overcooking the ribs twenty minutes ago, but he wouldn’t let anyone eat until you got here.”
When they reached the back door, propped open with a heavy brick, her mother stopped her and pulled her into another hug. “We’re just so, so glad to have you home.”
“I know you must have a ton of questions.” In all honestly, Cooper had expected to be greeted either with emotional hysterics or thousands of questions. This . . . this was on par with every time she’d returned home on leave, even if her mother did hug a little tighter or hold her a little longer.
“We do, of course, we do. But right now, we just want you here and home. There will be time enough for all that later.” She brushed her fingers beneath her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears, then stepped out on the back deck. “Besides, he said it would be best if we didn’t pester you for the details.”
“Who said?” Cooper asked as her sister took the back steps up the deck two at a time and grabbed her in a fierce, tight hug.
“You’re here!” Kayla squealed, then shoved Cooper back a step. “You’re so tan! And blonde.”
Cooper tugged a bit self-consciously at the ends of her hair. “Had to go lighter to get all the dye out.”
“Bet Mom said you were too thin, though.”
Cooper pulled a smile to her mouth. Kayla hadn’t changed a bit. Still tall and loud and full of life.
“Now,” her sister said, leading her down the back steps. “We’ve been told to give you some space and let it all settle back to normal and blah blah blah—like this family has ever done normal!—but you know I’m not great with the rules. So, can I have just one question?”
“Sure.”
“Where on God’s good green earth did you find him?”
“What?” Cooper asked, following Kayla’s gaze to the barbecue pit and the man standing next to her father.
Son of a bitch.
He’d remembered. And honestly, as she stood there watching as Will and her father studied the insides of the huge, black smoker, Cooper couldn’t imagine why she’d ever doubted him.
As her feet hit the grass, Will straightened, giving her a full view of his uniform-clad backside.
Full uniform? The man wasn’t playing fair.
As if he’d sensed her, Will turned, and stopped Cooper dead in her tracks.
Good. God.
“Yeah,” her mother said, patting her on the arm as Will approached. “He does seem to have that effect on people.”
Cooper swallowed hard and reminded herself that she was at her family’s barbecue. Climbing the man like a tree would be inappropriate. “When did he get here?” she asked.
“This morning,” Kayla offered, her tone smug and satisfied. “Seems pretty damn protective of you, Coop.”
“He certainly had a lot to say,” her mother agreed. “And a lot to ask. Wanted to be sure we didn’t crowd you, or ask too many questions, or overwhelm you with too many people. Said coming home can be stressful and that we should give you some room. Isn’t that right?” her mother said, all smiles for Will as he approached.
“Sometimes people need a little time to settle,” he agreed, his words and gaze all for Cooper. “But not too much.”
“Well,” her mother rubbed her hand across her shoulders, “I’ll leave you two to say your hellos and see if I can’t go wrangle that baster from your father. Don’t take too long, though, you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”
She left, dragging Kayla away by her wrist even as her sister looked over her shoulder, pointed at Will and mouthed, yum-my!
“Hey Coop,” he said, his mouth stretching into a wide, clean-shaven smile.
And yeah, she’d been right. Dimples. Two of them, deep and curving, on either side of his mouth.
And because she was feeling a lot off balance and a little bit dazzled, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Nothing good ever starts with the words ‘hey Coop.’”
“No?” he asked, his grin turning wild and wicked. The wind caught his hair, tugging at strands he’d left long on top, but cut close at the sides and the nape. God. She’d known he’d be beautiful. Had known that once he found his feet and his confidence that he’d wear his scars like medals and his survival with pride.
She just hadn’t fully expected the effect it would have on her. That he’d dres
sed up the clean shave and fresh haircut with a full uniform and a wide grin told her that he’d begun the campaign to capture her heart and that he was so not above playing dirty.
“I can think of a few good things that start with the phrase, ‘hey Coop.’”
“Like what?” she asked, because if the man was going to work this hard to prove just where his home was, she wasn’t about to stop him.
“How about,” he stepped in close and ran a hand down her arm, “hey Coop, it’s good to see you.”
She shrugged. “Not bad, I guess, but nothing noteworthy, either.”
“Let me try again.” He grinned, and twined their fingers together. “Hey Coop, I missed you.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles.
She rolled her eyes. “Better, but hardly memorable.”
He leaned in close, rubbed his smooth cheek against hers, and whispered against her ear, “Hey Coop, wanna defile Captain America?”
She couldn’t help it, she broke into fits of laughter that rose from her belly, spilled out her lips, and stung at her eyes. She couldn’t breathe, but Will didn’t seem to care, he wrapped an arm around her waist, a hand around her nape, and pulled her mouth to his.
How? she wondered. How had she ever thought she could walk away from him? And how had she ever thought that standing in his arms, beneath his warmth, under his lips, could be anything other than a joy? She’d been so worried that she’d resent him. That every ounce of joy would be tempered with an equal sense of loss.
But Will was and always had been, brighter than the darkness.
He was her happiness. Her home. Her future.
She’d miss Cole. Would make time to mourn him, and then honor him. But she’d do it as she so desperately wanted to do everything else—with Will.
When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to hers and stared into her eyes. “Wait. I have one more,” he said, his words a warm puff of air against her mouth. “Hey Coop, I love you.”
She pulled back just enough to watch his face as she said, “I know.”
“Oh no,” he said, his expression descending into a scowl, “you do not get to be the Han Solo of this relationship.”
Fearless (Somerton Security Book 3) Page 30