Page 32 of Claws and Feathers

“And James. And possibly Kravitz if his new girlfriend has a higher alcohol tolerance than the last one.”

She crinkled her nose. “I don’t know. The last time I decided to be social I got bludgeoned and kidnapped.”

“I’ll make cupcakes,” Kate offered.

“Tell me when and where.”

Cooper sat in Daphne’s driveway that night listening to one of his favorite true crime podcasts. It was a brilliant summer evening. His window was rolled down and the cicadas were a calming soundtrack to his addled thoughts. Daphne had left for the bar, making sure she’d gifted him with her signature look of scorn and a middle finger as she’d swept by him, and Abby was alone inside. He would glance up every now and then as her shadow passed behind the lace curtains. He considered going in. Knocking on the door. Apologizing for the uncomfortable misunderstanding that had transpired regarding his meddling ex-wife.

Not that he should care what Abby thought.

But he did.

His better judgment always took over. He remained in his cruiser, sipping on stale coffee, and relishing in the mild breeze. Cooper’s favorite part of summer was the summer nights. There was something about the air – a little sticky. Slightly musky.Exhilarating.

Cooper was just getting into a new podcast when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. It was a little after nine P.M. It was his day off, so he was hoping it wasn’t the station calling him in – he didn’t want to leave Abby alone at night. When he glanced at the phone face, he was surprised to see Abby’s name light up the screen. He clicked accept. “Abby?”

“Cooper, can you come inside? I heard something. I’m freaked out.”

He was out of the car and on the front porch before she finished getting the words out. Abby met him at the door, her eyes glazed with panic. Cooper’s hand was on his gun, ready if necessary. “Are you okay? What happened?” He entered through the doorway and reached for her. His hand landed on her elbow, noting the slight trembling of her arm.

“I – I heard something in the bedroom. A crashing sound. Daphne’s usually here at night, so it’s probably my mind playing tricks on me, but…”

Crash.

“Oh, God, Cooper,” Abby cried, grabbing for him, and wrapping her hands around his arm.

Cooper pulled the pistol out of his holster, then turned to face her. “Stay here.” His gaze danced across her face, drinking in her fear. She was ashen. Abby squeezed him tighter, not wanting to let go. “Hey, I’ll be right back.”

“What if it’s him? What if he’s waiting for me?”

Jesus.The look in her eyes. The terrified look in her eyes. The Withered Man had made his mark on Abigail Stone and she would forever be bound to the eternal nightmare he had woven. She would always be sheathed in his grisly shadow. “Abby, I’m going to check it out. It’s probably nothing, but I want you to stay here.” A part of Cooper didn’t want to let her go either, but he had to. He was taken back to the day of the rescue where she’d clung to him in desperateneedand terror.

Cooper knew he had made his mark, too. It gave him a semblance of comfort.

Abby tentatively let go and slunk back, her hands rising to her neck and her head bowing. Cooper pressed forward with long, deliberate strides, inching closer to the spare bedroom that Abby currently occupied. He peered in, hearing a rustling sound coming from the closet.

These were the moments he’d trained for. These were the blood-pumping, adrenaline-surging, mind-fucking moments every cop prepared for, but could never understand until they were in the field – until they werelivingit. He’d had his fair share of moments like this. They were the moments that kept him sharp and resilient. They gave him power.

It was the woman behind him that made him falter. Sway.

Cooper sucked in a deep breath, blinking slowly, and flung open the closet door.

A cat ran out and Abby screamed.

There was only a brief sigh of relief before her sobs overpowered the sound of his swiftly beating heart. Cooper secured the pistol back in his holster and rushed to her, the yearning to hold her carrying his feet the entire way. Abby collapsed against his chest, her hands balled up by her face, her warm tears dampening the front of his vest. He cradled the back of her head in his hand, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her against him. Her body was tremoring with weeks of pent up anguish, and shock, and unspeakable trauma she’d been burying deep inside her soul. Cooper could feel her releasing – he could feel her expelling everything she’d been clinging to; everything that had been weighing her down. “Shh. It’s okay,” he whispered. Her delicate wisps of hair tickled his chin and smelled of tangerines. “You’re safe.”

Abby began to soften. Her tension slowly dissolved as her body molded against him, limp and unsteady. Cooper held her closer, partially to keep her standing upright, but mostly just tofeelher.

She finally glanced up at him, her eyelids puffy and smudged with mascara. She drew in a choppy breath as her emotions subsided, then stepped back. Abby wrapped her arms around herself, as if a chill swept over her as it had swept over him at the loss of contact. “God, I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” She looked down at her naked toes, curling them into the shag rug.

Cooper swallowed and shook his head. “You’re healing. You’re overcoming.”

“I’m falling apart,” she corrected.

“Abby, no.” Cooper stepped towards her and pulled her back into his arms. She froze, not expecting the gesture. Cooper wasn’t expecting it either. He was momentarily taken off guard by his own unprecedented instincts. He felt her relax despite her heartbeat increasing, playing lively beats against his chest. Something in the air seemed to shift, and their embrace felt different. There was a new energy, a new charge. Abby nuzzled her cheek against him, her breaths brisk and warm. Her heat radiated into him, igniting something inside him he didn’t dare explore. He had enough shit on his plate to investigate – digging around his inner psyche and deciphering his feelings sounded like a draining use of his time.

Cooper was about to pull away when she muttered softly, almost longingly, into his outer vest, “Will you stay with me a little while?”

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