Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6) (19 page)

T
he media shit storm hit
, and it hit hard. By the time Cooper returned to his place on the ocean, news crews were parked along the road waiting. The flashes of lights as he drove past nearly blinded him, and the slow-burning anger inside festered until it broke open like the waves that beat against the Atlantic coast.

He walked into his silent home, and everywhere he looked reminded him of Morgan. Smiling as she rested her chin on the island and watched him prepare something for dinner. Laughing at some stupid joke he told, or whimpering in pleasure at the touch of his hand.

He couldn’t take it and climbed the stairs to the attic, where he lost it. He roared his anger, swinging at the bag he’d installed only days earlier. He let fly punch after punch, until his hands were bloody and his body covered in sweat.

Still it did no good. The image of Morgan, her beautiful pale eyes filled with pain—pain that he’d caused—was something he’d never forget. Just the thought had him swinging his fist again, and he swore savagely when he felt something give. Didn’t care. Hell, he deserved pain.

“You about done?”

Sides heaving, Cooper spied Maverick standing on the top step, his face filled with concern. He scowled and pushed off from the bag. “Not even close.”

Maverick strode across the loft and stood a few paces away. “It’s getting bad out there.”

Cooper walked past his brother toward the window and glanced down at the circus-like gathering.

“It’s going to get crazy.”

“Yep.” Maverick joined him.

“I can’t stay. It will only make things worse.”

“That’s probably true too, but…”

He looked at Maverick. He knew where his brother was going. “She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, and I don’t blame her one damn bit. I blew it.”

Maverick looked grim. “You didn’t tell her about your past or the Lee Holloway thing, and she was blindsided.” It wasn’t a question, and Cooper didn’t bother to answer. “Do you love her?”

Cooper stared out into the chaos. His chest was so tight, he could barely breathe. “Yeah. I do,” he bit out.

“You’re never going to win her back by pounding the shit out of that damn bag. And if you don’t do something about it, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Maverick was right. Of course he was. But Cooper felt helpless. He knew the questions circling Morgan’s mind, and she had every right to distrust him. Hell, she had every right to hate his guts. What the hell could he say to convince her otherwise?

He shook his head. He had nothing. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“You’re a goddamn writer, Coop. Figure this out. The time for running is over. You’ve been doing it ever since Holly. You’ve been using her as an excuse to hide. No more.” Maverick gave him a quick, hard hug. “Do you want me to stay? We’re supposed to fly out tomorrow.”

Right. The damn premiere.

“No. Go be with Charlie.”

Maverick gave him one last hug and then left him alone. Cooper hit the lights and sat in the dark for hours. He stared at the flickering shadows, face grim and so damn spent, he felt light-headed. He hung his head in his hands, his despair and anger making him shake so hard, his head began to pound.

He had one shot at this, and he needed to get it right.

He stared at the floor for a few moments more and then got his ass up. He headed down into his darkened house and slipped out the back way to the shop. Once in his office, he booted up the computer and filled the paper tray in the printer. As a heavy spring rain began to pound against the window, he shoved his fists into his pockets, uncaring that they were still covered in blood.

I need to get this right.

* * *

C
ooper woke with a start
, eyes bleary, head killing him. Subdued, he grabbed the stuff he needed and headed out into the blinding sunlight. It was just after ten in the morning, and the fresh air and warm breeze promised a gorgeous spring day. Birds chirped from the trees overhead as he trudged up to his house, and in the distance, the cry of the gulls as they swooped low over the Atlantic was shrill.

He paid no attention. He had things to do.

His house was quiet, and after a quick shower and change, he threw a bag together and headed for the stairs. His phone rang, the sound shrill and sharp, and after a moment of hesitation, he pulled his cell out of his pocket.

It was Isabel.

“Hey, Mom,” he said quietly, glancing out toward the road. The paparazzi still lined the edge of his property, but Maverick must have called security in, because several private hires kept them at bay.

“How is Morgan?” Leave it to his mother to cut to the chase.

“Not good.”

“Oh, Cooper. I’m so sorry for the both of you. And for Holly. That girl is really screwed up, and the press is all over her.”

A twinge of regret hit Cooper, and, face tight, he nodded. He’d felt a lot of things yesterday, one of them being compassion for the other woman at the center of this storm.

“I want you to know that I love you and that every member of this family is behind you.”

“I know.” The Simons always had each other’s back. Even when they didn’t deserve it. That’s what blood meant.

“What are you going to do?”

He reached for his bag. “I’m going to see Morgan.”

There was a pause. “You love her, then.”

“I do.”

“Then fight for her, honey. Love is precious and scary and fleeting. Grab it and hold it close. Treat it like the treasure it is.”

“Love you, Ma.” He opened the front door. “I’ll see you in England.”

He tossed his suitcase and garment bag in the back of his Land Rover, carrying a large manila envelope with him to the front. The engine roared to life, and Cooper zipped past the photogs, eyes on the road, ignoring them completely.

The drive to town was uneventful, though the closer he got to Morgan’s place, the more congested the streets became. He drove past a group of paps camped out at the end of the Campbell driveway and parked behind Morgan’s car. Her father’s truck was pulled to the side and offered Cooper a modicum of privacy as he jumped from the truck and took the front steps two at a time.

Behind him, voices swelled, some calling him by name, others taunting him for information. He ignored them completely, his gaze on the house, and knocked on the door.

No one answered. He knocked again. And again. And again. Eventually, it slowly cracked open.

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Sara stared back at him, face dark with anger and a whole lot of other stuff he deserved.

“I know.” He squared his shoulders, not afraid to play dirty if he had to. “But I’m not leaving until I see her. I have something to give her, and then I’ll go.”

“You’ve got your nerve.”

“I do.”

Sara was clearly surprised at his response. Her eyes narrowed; her dislike showed in the disdainful curve of her lips. She pushed on the door, but he shoved his foot inside enough to stop it.

“Are you kidding me?” Her head jerked up, but he didn’t budge. Hell, they’d have to arrest him before he’d leave without seeing Morgan. But Sara was pissed, and he had nothing to lose.

“Please.” It was a plea torn from the depths of his heart, and as he stood there feeling the early spring sun on his back, he would have gotten onto his knees to beg if that was what it took.

“Let him in.”

Morgan’s voice slid from behind Sara, and after a few moments, the door opened enough to let him inside.

The house was dark, but he found her immediately. She stood alone in the room to the side, the one with all the family photos. Sara glared at him and then looked toward her sister.

“Are you sure you want him here?”

Morgan didn’t reply, and with a disgusted shake of her head, Sara retreated to the back of the house.

Morgan stood near the window, gazing out at the craziness just beyond her home. He could see how tired she looked. How fragile and spent and hurt. All of it because of him. All because he’d been so caught up in his own hang-ups and weaknesses, his own need to run and hide, that he’d never trusted her enough with his secrets.

This was his shot. He needed to get this right. He wasn’t a man of grand gestures, and he hoped that this would be enough.

He cleared her throat, hating how she flinched at the sound.

“You might find this ironic, but words aren’t always my friend. Most of the time, it’s easier to get things on paper than it is for me to say. But I came here today because I need to tell you something.” He paused, fighting the urge to grab her into his arms and take away her pain.

“I love you.”

Again she flinched. And then there was silence. A long stretch of silence that bore down on him so hard, it was painful. He heard a cell phone ring somewhere. Muted voices coming from the back of the house. A car horn from outside.

All the while, his gaze never left her. She dropped her hands, played with the edge of her sweatshirt, and slowly turned to face him.

“That’s all you’ve got to say to me?” Her voice was raw, her eyes puffy, and that sweet mouth of hers trembled.

He shook his head and walked toward her. “No.” Cooper handed her the large manila envelope, and after a few seconds, she took it from him, careful not to touch his fingers. “This is what I worked on with you in my life. This is what I turned in to my editor. Everything that you are to me is in here.

“I know you need time and space.” Cooper stood back. “All I ask is that you read it.”

He held her gaze for as long as she’d let him, and when she turned back to face the window, he took a step back and then headed for the door. He paused when he caught sight of Ryan Campbell watching him from the shadows. Morgan’s father raised his chin, and then, with a small nod, turned away.

Cooper hoped like hell he’d got this right, because if not, he was walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to him. Walking away from the one person he needed in his life. He hesitated because he was suddenly plagued with a doubt so strong, he felt like puking. What if he’d read this all wrong? What if this was the biggest mistake he’d ever made?

Did he have a choice? From what he could tell, there was no going back. He squared his shoulders, reached for the door, and stepped into the sunshine.

M
organ didn’t leave
the house. She didn’t take any phone calls or accept any requests for interviews. When Charlie and Maverick wanted to stop in, she made her sister tell them she was sleeping. No way could she deal with them now. She withdrew to her room and sat on her bed, the large manila envelope Cooper had given her at her feet. She recognized it—had seen him with it at his place over a month ago.

She didn’t eat, didn’t sleep—didn’t do anything but sit on the damn bed and stare at the envelope.

Hours passed. The sunlight that dappled the worn wooden floorboards gave way to long shadows that crept along the walls until her room was in darkness. And still she sat on her bed, staring at the envelope. She knew she was in danger of slipping back to that place that had existed for her after the accident. The dark place full of pain and guilt and regret that would eventually give way to, well, nothing. The thought scared her, and yet, in some ways, she wanted it.

Being numb and unaware was so much better than what she felt right now. She was screaming inside. And it hurt all the more because she couldn’t get it out.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Morgan gasped, hating the images that burned behind them. The mangled car. The blanket-draped body along the side of the road. Cooper smiling at her from across the room.

Her stupid orange beanie. It was old and worn—but her mother had given it to her after she’d won her first high school meet, and it had been her good luck charm. Right up until that night when whatever magic it possessed, real or imagined, had fled.

Suddenly sitting up, she scrambled from the bed and tore open her armoire. She grabbed every single piece of clothing and tossed it, frantically searching every nook and cranny. Next she emptied her dresser. And then the nightstand. She was just about to start on her desk when she froze. Someone was in the room with her.

She was breathing hard, her face hot, as she turned. The knot in her throat was big, and she couldn’t speak if she wanted to. Her father stood just inside her bedroom. He looked…unsure. Maybe a little uncomfortable. Funny, he’d not been up here since she was a teenager.

Ryan Campbell didn’t look at the mess on the floor and he didn’t comment or ask what the hell it was she was doing. What he did do was close the door behind him and nod to the bed.

Sniffling, she followed his lead and sat down, pushing back tears when he settled in beside her. He held a bowl of soup in his hands and, without saying a thing, offered it to her. Morgan’s stomach churned, but she took the soup, and he waited patiently beside her until it was all gone.

He set the bowl on the table beside her bed and clasped his hands together. The silence weighed heavily. It pressed into her until she wanted to scream.

“I stopped drinking last week.” His words were slow and precise.

Morgan’s head lowered, and she stared at the floor. “I’m glad,” she whispered. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she began to shake.

“It was time.”

Again, silence filled the space between them, until her father broke it. “I never told you…” He cleared his throat, and she looked away, shaking her head because she was unsure of what was coming.

“I need you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened to your mother. I never did.”

Tears slipped down her face, and she clutched the edge of the bed so tightly, her knuckles were white.

“I didn’t handle things properly. I wasn’t the father you needed. The father you deserved. I found the bottom of every bottle I came across, because it helped me forget how much I missed your mom.”

A sob escaped. She couldn’t help it.

“It’s no excuse. I’m not taking that route. I knew I was failing you, and the booze made it all better somehow. Screwed up, I know. And for that, I’m sorry.” His hand slid over hers, and Morgan whimpered, letting her head fall to his shoulder. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long.

“Seeing you happy with that Simon boy. Seeing the way he made you smile again kind of woke me up. Made me realize a few things. I need help, and I’ll thank him for that one day.”

He clasped her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I don’t know what his story is or what he’s done to hurt you so bad. And maybe the two of you will never figure a way out or find your way back, but Morgan…” He sighed and shook his head. “Don’t throw away something that made you happy until you’re damn well sure you don’t want or need it. Your mother and I didn’t always get along. We had arguments just like any other married couple. But we always heard each other out. Always took the time for at least that. Now, from what I can tell, your Cooper’s got some things he wants to say to you. I hope you can find it in your heart to let him.”

The two of them sat on the bed for a good long while, Ryan Campbell’s arm around his daughter and Morgan letting him take on the burden of some of her pain. When he gently let go and kissed her on the cheek, she had no more tears. They were pretty much dried up.

God, she was so tired. Her father scooped the bowl from the nightstand and left her alone. Eventually, her mind shut off, and she rolled over, clutched her pillow, and fell asleep.

When Morgan woke up, sunlight was starting to break over the horizon. She lay in her bed for a bit, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. When she moved, pain sliced through her head, and with a groan, she rolled over and sat up, stomach churning as she gazed around the room.

Her room was spotless. The mess from the night before gone. Her clothes and things she’d tossed were all put away. Her gaze landed on her desk, and, scrubbing at her sleep-heavy eyes, she got to her feet and shuffled across the room. Trembling fingers reached out, and with a soft moan, she grabbed the faded orange beanie. She held it to her face and rubbed it along her cheek before pulling it over her head.

She had no idea how it got there and wasn’t about to question it. None of this made sense, not even her need to have the hat. And yet a sense of calm washed over her, and she slowly turned around.

Morgan spied the envelope on her bed and, suddenly filled with urgency, crossed the room and grabbed it. She ripped it open and pulled out a bundled manuscript along with a handwritten letter.

She slid onto the bed, so nervous she felt sick, but with her back against her pillows, she started to read.

Morgan,

When I came to Fisherman’s Landing, it was for one purpose only. To finish a book I didn’t feel. The words I had down were as uninspired as my existence. Trust me, that’s an understatement. Then I met you, and it seemed as if all these fast-moving pieces of my life slowed down. Suddenly, they weren’t rigid; they fit together, and I found happiness. The quiet moments I spent with you were profound. They’ve forever changed me. You’ve changed me. I’m not the selfish bastard I once was, even though you might find it hard to believe. Lee Holloway is a part of my life I guarded fanatically and kept close. For a lot of reasons. Reasons that I’ll share with you in person if you’re willing to give me another chance.

For a man of words, I’m finding it difficult to convey my feelings, so I decided to get to the point.

I love you from the depths of my heart. You’re my sweets, the woman who makes me a better man. I hope you’ll let me prove that to you. This book is titled
The Shape of My Heart
. It is not your story. It is our story. It’s about finding love and hoping for forgiveness.

When you’re done reading this (I’m nothing if not an optimist), call me. Anytime, any day. I will come to you.

Cooper

M
organ held
the letter to her chest and, with a ragged sigh, leaned back against the headboard. She slowly took off the binding and, as the sun continued to rise, began to read. She read for hours and then went back and read some passages again.

When she finally finished, it was late afternoon. Her eyes were bleary, her head was fuzzy, and yet she jumped from her bed and scrambled for her phone. She scrolled through the numbers until she found the one she was looking for.

She waited, nervously biting her lip, and when a voice said hello, she had to take a moment and get her head straight. She gave her head a shake. She was done wallowing. It was time.

“It’s Morgan. I need your help.”