Page 108 of Clinch'd

He doesn’t look up, so after grabbing a blanket off the couch, I sit down gingerly beside him and gaze over the city. New York is a beautiful place from high up and I wish I could have seen more of it.

Wait…ha! Today is my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me.

“How are you feeling?” Cooper says and I glance at him sideways.

He’s not looking at me and it bothers me more than it should. Is he afraid of what I might say? Or overrun by images of what Jordan was doing?

Clearing my throat, I rasp, “Okay.”

He drops back to silence, and I search for something to say, finally settling on, “Do you know where my suitcase is?”

With a sigh, he rubs his face and points behind him. “It’s by the door.”

“Okay,” I whisper, stepping inside with a shiver.

Even at our angriest, it’s never been this chilly between us. Why wouldn’t it be though? We’ve both lied to each other and now we’re embroiled in a mess that could get someone killed.

These aren’t exactly romantic times.

With my suitcase in hand, I go back to the bedroom and open it up, before pulling out a pair of sweats that I slide on under the shirt.

I don’t see my purse and I move to check by the door when Cooper appears, grabbing the frame.

My mouth goes dry when his muscles flex and I follow the trail to the band of his shorts before looking away. He truly is a beautiful specimen.

“Minnie,” he says quietly.

“Yes,” I whisper, staring at the wall.

“I don't even know what to say…”

“What happened,” I rasp, clearing my throat, “to him?”

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll never hurt you again.”

With a shudder, I rifle through my clothes, because I need something to do.

A lump builds in my throat and I brush my hair back from my face but as the silence surrounds us, I finally cave and the words spill from my mouth, in a torrent because I can’t fucking do this anymore, “He was working for Suit, um, Castinetti. Went by the name Mickey B.”

Cooper steps into the room, stopping at my back. His heat feels so good against my cold skin that I sway before catching myself and moving aside.

A chill marches through me when he backs away and I raise my chin as he says, “What did he do?”

Waving my hand, I say, “He planted drugs on you.”

There’s a beat of silence before he grabs my arm and pulls me around. “What did he do toyou?”

“Oh.” Dropping my chin, I say to his chest, “Nothing, really.”

“Min? Did he…touch you?”

Shaking my head, I glance up into his glittering eyes and say shakily, “No.”

He seems to deflate before bowing his head and exhaling slowly. The sight does crazy things to my heart and before I give in and do something stupid, I listen to my brain screaming caution, and blurt, “I should go.”

His eyes fly to mine, and he searches my gaze before looking away. “You can stay here until tomorrow. We’ll get you the first flight out. I’ll stay with…somewhere else.”

Stay with who? Doesn’t matter or so I tell myself as I mumble, “Fine.”

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