Page 92 of Claws and Feathers

He didn’t know that she couldn’t stay.

He didn’t know that she would be gone by sunrise.

This little bird needed to fly away to mend her broken wings.

Chapter Twenty-Six

As the sun began to rise, casting shadows across Cooper’s bedroom, Abby untangled herself from his arms. A greater shadow was looming overhead. She gazed upon him, taking in his peaceful form, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair was curling at his hairline. She drank him in. She memorized every line and crease on his beautiful face.

She closed her eyes and stood from the bed.

Abby slipped back into her sundress and exited the bedroom, stepping quietly through his quaint bungalow. As she made her way out the back door and walked along the grass to Cooper’s pier, she couldn’t help but notice the choir of songbirds chirping over her head. She looked up at the sky, an innate sadness creeping into her skin. She stared up at the birds soaring above her like a child who had lost her balloon. Abby sighed as she continued her journey to the dock.

She stood at the edge, staring out at the water that was rippling gently, splashing along the sides. There was a tepid breeze sweeping through, and while it was not cold, Abby wrapped her arms around herself as a chill encompassed her. Then she reached into the small pocket on the side of her dress and pulled out a folded-up letter. Abby’s eyes perused the familiar, cursive writing. She had always loved the way Nana wrote. Even in her old age, her handwriting had never declined. It remained as perfect as it always had.

Abby reread the letter one last time, picturing Nana’s voice speaking to her as the words soaked in. She clutched it to her chest like a long, lost hug.

Then she tossed it into the lake.

Abby watched it float along the surface, ebbing and flowing downstream by the morning breeze.

“Abby?”

She twirled around, startled by the sound of his voice. “Cooper.”

“You should have woken me up. We could have watched the sunrise together,” he said. A smile pulled at his lips as he approached.

Don’t do that. Don’t smile like that.

Cooper reached her at the edge of the dock and wrapped his arms around her, sighing deeply into her hair. Abby stiffened in response. He noticed, stepping back slightly with questions in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

Abby couldn’t look at him. She closed her eyes and ducked her head, forcing out the words that had been haunting her since her brother’s proposal at the hospital. “I’m leaving, Cooper. I’m leaving Crow’s Peak.” His silence made her stomach turn. She found the courage to glance up at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. He looked shattered. Confused. Cooper looked like she had just thrust a dagger into his beating heart. Abby’s eyes watered as she tried to explain herself. “I – I have to. Ryan asked me to come home, and I need to fix my relationship with him. I need to fix a lot of things.”

Cooper stood there wooden, as an array of emotions splayed out across his face. “Are you coming back?”

She swallowed, trying desperately to hold the tears in. “Someday,” she said. “When I’m better.”

He didn’t look convinced. “So, this is it? This is goodbye?”

Her heart was clenching. It felt like he was squeezing the beating organ in his fist and it was screaming out in pain. Abby nodded as the tears began to slide down her cheeks. She was expecting a grand speech. She was expecting him to beg her to stay – to profess his love and tell her they could get through this together. To hold her tight and never let her go.

Cooper did none of those things.

Abby reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

Oh, it hurt. She sucked in a breath and almost choked on the weight of it. “I’ll come back for you, Cooper. I –”

“No, you won’t.” Cooper leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “But thanks for saying it.” Then he turned around and walked off the pier, disappearing back into his house.

Abby crumbled. She fell to her knees, burying her face into her hands, mourning the loss of her lover.

Cooper paced back and forth through his living room, running a hand through his hair and kicking a pillow that had fallen off the couch.

The couch they had made love on less than twelve hours ago.

He was gutted. Thrown.

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