Twenty-Five

“How bad is it?” Coop asks. He drops into the chair beside me on his front porch and I pass him a beer from the six-pack I brought over. While my brother was still at work, I made myself at home, and spent the past hour hanging on his porch, watching dusk settle.

I glance at him, and he pops the tab at my response.

Cooper sighs and we sit in silence, looking over his quiet, peaceful street. While I live in the bustle of the city, Cooper prefers the stillness of the country. Right now, I need a slice of his haven to quiet my thoughts.

“Is she hurting as badly as you?” he asks.

“Maybe even more,” I admit.

“Who wanted it more? Who laid everything on the line first?” Coop fishes.

I chortle bitterly. “Does it matter?”

“Ah,” he murmurs. “You leaped; she faltered.”

“Something like that.” I take a swig of my second beer.

Cooper’s quiet. Several fireflies flicker on and off in his front yard.

“You think she’s scared?” he murmurs quietly.

I close my eyes and swear. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I think.”

“Maybe she needs more time.”

“Maybe.”

Cooper chuckles. I turn to glare at him. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing.” My brother shakes his head.

“Why are you laughing?” I press.

“Isn’t it kind of ironic? Cohen, do you realize how many women have leapt for you while you faltered? How many women wanted the reassurances and the promises and the answers while you waffled? And yeah, maybe it was because your heart wasn’t in it. But do you think that of Raia? Do you think she’s not sure about you? Or not sure about anything? Because those aren’t the same things and she’s been through a lot in a short amount of time.”

I cluck a nonsensical sound and take a long pull of my beer. I hate that Coop has a point. I don’t want his logic. I want him to sympathize with me. Right now, I feel lower than I have in years. My stomach is knotted, my head pounds, and frustration has every cell in my body tightening. I’m stressed and angry. Hurt and disappointed. Emotional when I strive for rational.

“Give her time,” Coop advises.

I swing my eyes to his. “I did. This has been going on for weeks, Coop. There’ve been a lot of opportunities for her to commit. To confess. To fucking confide in me. Guess what? She didn’t take any of them.”

“Yeah?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Was she supposed to do that while preparing to face her ex-boyfriend and cousin? Or while she was in the same house with them and had all her friends as witnesses? This is little Raia Callaway we’re talking about. That girl does not like to make herself vulnerable. She holds her cards close to the chest; she always has. She’s not going to spill her guts because you asked her to.”

My phone buzzes with an incoming message and I pull it from my pocket.

Avery:

Come for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Seriously?” I mutter.

Avery

We should talk, but you should roll through.

“Who is it?” Coop asks.

I sigh and flip my phone around so he can read the screen.

He snickers.

“What?” I demand.

He shrugs again, feigning casual, and takes a swig of his beer. “Seems like she’s coming around.”

“Or Avery’s inviting me—”

“When has Avery ever invited you to Thanksgiving? He knows you spend the holiday with your family. And you don’t need an invitation, just like he doesn’t need an invitation to come to Mom and Dad’s for holiday dinners. Y’all have been friends too long. But, if you were going to dinner as someone’s boyfriend, well, the protocol would be different.” Cooper smirks like he’s onto something big.

I roll my eyes and drain my beer.

Avery

Don’t give up on my sister yet.

And don’t tell her I told you that.

I reread his messages, trying to make sense of them.

“Give her time,” Cooper advises again. Then, he grabs my empty bottles and relocates inside his house.

I sit on the porch for a long time, waiting for dusk to fade into night. The moon appears, big and full and watchful. Enchanting like the moonlight that streamed into our room at the ski chalet. That night, it washed Raia in magic.

My chest aches and I heave a sigh.

I don’t want to say goodbye to Raia. I don’t want to let her go.

And I don’t want to give her any more time either.