“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.