In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(98)

“I heard I have you to thank.”

“Remember in college when you told me I’d never be a lawyer because I was too much of a criminal? Should we take a few moments to soak in the irony?”

I crossed my arms. “Your humor is impeccably timed, as always.”

“I’m partial to it.”

“You have a motorcycle again.”

He shrugged. “Rented it. I don’t know, being back here makes me nostalgic.” He looked up when I wasn’t expecting it, and I was caught off guard by the brightness of his eyes. “Seriously, though. How are you? I heard Coldwell dropped you.”

“I’m okay.” I stepped forward and reached for the place on his chest where Mint slashed him, but stopped before I touched him. “You?”

Coop put his hand over mine and pressed them both to his chest. His shirt was cold against my fingers. “Just a scratch.”

I withdrew my hand. I had to ask, even if some part of me was afraid of the answer. “What’s happening with Caro?”

I knew what was coming: We made up, and she’s back at the hotel, waiting for me to say goodbye. Or: I threw myself at her mercy, and she forgave me. Or: She’s home in Greenville, planning our wedding, and I’m just wrapping up loose ends.

I closed my eyes.

“You heard her. She wants nothing to do with the East House Seven for the rest of her life. She left for her parents’ house straight from the hospital.”

I opened my eyes in surprise. “I know she hates us—but you?”

Coop’s eyes told me the answer before he pressed his hands to his face. “I really fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t.” I stepped closer. “I’m the one who ruined everything with what I said in Blackwell. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It was selfish. I’ll talk to her, I promise. I’ll tell her it’s one-sided. You can tell her, too.”

Coop dropped his hands. “I did talk to her.”

A chill breeze picked up, lifting my hair. I wrapped my arms over my chest. “But then…do you still need me to fix it?”

For some reason, this made Coop angry. He stepped away from the tree, putting distance between us. “You know, just because you were a martyr for Eric doesn’t mean I think you’re some big hero now.”

My mouth dropped open. “I never said that. I’m not.”

“You’re damn right, you’re not.” Coop paced, then stopped. He stared me down. “I’ve known you since we were eighteen years old. Watched you closer than anyone. Do you want to know what I think?”

I was shaking my head, but he kept going.

“You’re a narcissist. You’ve always been vain and petty and ego-driven. You have serious daddy issues and a fucked-up dating history—including, most notably, with me. You always take the safe route because you’re scared. Case in point, your lame corporate job. You try so goddamn hard to make everything perfect because you’re convinced that’s the only way you’ll deserve—what? Love? Life, even? And as far as the world is concerned, you pushed my college roommate out a window to his death. You’re taking the fall, anyway, for reasons I honestly don’t understand.”

Maybe it was being back here in Winston-Salem, falling into familiar patterns; maybe it was the stress; or maybe I would always react this way to Coop’s uncomfortable truths. Without thinking, I shoved him. He staggered back.

“Congratulations,” I said. “You’ve managed to top your old record. Now that’s the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me. If you hate me so much, what are you—”

Coop seized my shoulders. “Let me finish. I get it. You’re hungry. You want things so bad it hurts. You’d do anything to get them.”

“Coop—”

“And I fucking love you for it, all right? I always have. One look at you freshman year, and I was doomed. I know it’s wrong because of Caro. But it’s always been wrong, for one reason or another. Never the right time. And Christ, never worse than now. But I can’t hide from the truth any longer. Do the wrong thing with me, Jess. I promise, I will make you happy. I will love you for the rest of my life. I’m going to do it anyway; I accepted that a long time ago. But please. Do it with me.”

Here it was again, the radical choice: be good or be happy. Thank god I had another chance to do it right.

I kissed him with ten years’ worth of longing, pushing my fingers through his hair, the thick shock of it, the hair I’d watched him tuck and smooth and brush away so many times, without being able to touch it. He picked me up and walked me to the tree. I wrapped my legs around his waist and cupped his jaw. This time, I was the hungry one, the one who couldn’t get close enough.

I pulled back. “I love you. I loved you at Myrtle Beach and that day I found you in Blackwell and at graduation when I turned you away. I’ve loved you ever since.”

“I know,” Coop said and kissed me again. “Come on.” He put me back on the ground. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I just want to be free with you in this city. I used to dream about it.”

We walked to the bike, and I fit myself on the seat behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I like your dreams better than mine.”