Page 110 of Can We Just Be Happy Now?

“Your dad . . .” Cooper starts, “he made me break up with you.”

“He what?!” I fume but feel pulled to redirect my anger. “And you listened to him?”

“What?” Confusion is evident on his face even with only the glow of the moon shimmering through the trees. It’s like he thought that reasoning alone would be enough to let him off the hook.

“You listened to him? When you claim you love me. Which for the record cannot possibly be true if you haven’t even told me.”

“You know I love–”

I cut him off. “No. Stop right there. This is exactly what I was fucking talking about with the miscommunication thing. You should have told me what my dad said. We should have been able to talk this through–”

“I heard your conversation with Chastity too,” he interrupts, his voice desperate. “It echoed everything your dad was saying. You not fighting for us felt like confirmation that everything they were saying was true.”

“Oh, and you breaking up with me is your way of fighting for us? Makes a whole lot of sense, Cooper.”

He tries to take another step toward me, and I back away again.

“Sophie, I’m sorry. I fucked up.” He yanks on the strings of his hoodie so hard it scrunches the hood. “But I want to make it up to you. I need us to be together.” His hands twist until they are tangled in the strings.

“Do you even hear yourself, Coop? If you needed me so badly you wouldn’t have left in the first place.”

He groans in frustration. “That’s not fair. You’re not taking the other factors into account.” He reaches for me faster than I can pull away this time, his hands gripping my waist and tugging me to him. I don’t back away, but stand there emotionless, my hands between us, pressed to his chest, debating if I should lean in or push him away.

“Don’t think I forgot about what you said to me.”

He cringes. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Soph. I’ve been trying to call you, text you–anything–to tell you that.”

“You can’t just take words back, Cooper. You hurt me. You took something precious to me–hell, it meant more to you than it did to me–and then you used it against me, like it doesn’t matter. How can I even trust you after that?”

“I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I had just talked to your dad–”

“Stop blaming my dad. You’re a grown up, Cooper. He’s not responsible for your choices.”

“But–”

“No. You said those words to me. Not him. You. You intentionally hurt me, more than just with a breakup.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault. I take responsibility for it. Let me make it up to you. Please,” he begs desperately.

“I need time to think about this.”

“Think about what? It’s been three hours. We can just go back,” he pleads.

“No, Coop, we can’t.” This is harder than the time I tried to teach myself to crochet. Harder than learning how to ollie on my skateboard. Harder than the first time I walked away from him. Way harder.

“Why is it always so easy for you to let me go?”

“That’s not fair. Even if I can pretend you didn’t use sex against me, you broke my heart. And how can I believe you won’t do it again when you can’t even talk to me, can’t even think through your decisions?” Pain is clear in his eyes, tears sit on his waterline, threatening to fall. Cooper never cries. Not even when he tore his ACL junior year of high school. I shake my head, expelling the empathy clouding my decision.

“It was stupid. And impulsive. But we can get through this. We get through everything, but we can’t do that if you run away again. It’s always been us against the world.”

“It feels like it's us against each other.” My own words deepen the cracks in my fragile heart, and they seem to do the same to him. I realize this wasn’t as easy for him as I thought, but I continue anyway. “My dad was just trying to protect me. You’re supposed to be the one who protects me now. How can you do that if we aren’t together? And if I can’t even trust the things you say?” My voice cracks. I try to take a deep breath but only manage a shallow one, choking on a sob.

“I thought I was protecting you, Soph. I thought I was giving you what you wanted.”

“All I ever need is you,” I cry. “But you chose to let me be in pain, to cause it. That’s not love. It doesn’t matter the reason. And even worse, it could have all been prevented if you just talked to me first. But you didn’t, and right now I can’t forgive you for that.”

One of his hands shifts from its grip on my hip to its familiar hold on my neck. “But you will, right?”

---