What Goes Around...

Part Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Coop looked around the room, hating that he was trapped in his own bedroom. He'd showered and changed into his sweatpants, too hot to wear anything more. He needed a drink, fresh air...to get out of the room. But he had no idea if Freya had stayed; he knew there was a high chance that she had. And he didn't want to speak to her, didn't want her psychoanalysing the kiss that they'd shared the previous night. He'd sworn that he wouldn't do it, and it was wrong.

Why had he kissed her? Because she goaded him...again. So it was revenge, retaliation? He almost laughed out loud. Revenge? Maybe, but it was good...better than good, and now he was worried that she'd start expecting more. He wasn't her saviour, he wasn't a rescuer. She had some man coming looking for her, and maybe this chancer wasn't someone who deserved her, but that wasn't his problem. He wanted his home back, he wanted to be Coop again, single fun-loving, uncaring Coop. Not the  sap he'd become since she'd arrived like a drowned kitten on his doorstep, he wanted to be the Coop that didn't worrying about anything, especially Freya, and definitely not thinking about Michelle.

He gulped at the thought of her, the second time in twenty four hours that she'd come to his thoughts like a painful ghost. He had avoided thinking of her for years; he'd had to to survive. Glancing at the mirror he grimaced at the sight, the tattoo on his left pec over his heart, the letter M and tiny Roman numerals that signified the date his heart had irreparably broken. He hated the tattoo because it was a permanent reminder of how horrendous his life had become, but on the other hand it was all he had to remember of the last time his heart was full of love.

Drink.

As usual that was his go to, his own saviour. Pulling on an old gym t-shirt, he opened the door and padded barefoot down the metal staircase into the open plan living area, glad to find it empty. The huge fridge had a case of beer on the bottom shelf. He felt like whiskey, something harder hitting, but he hadn't bought any, Oscar had a bottle in his room, but SHE was there. He could go to the bar, there was a stock room full there, but he couldn't be bothered to go that far. No. Beer it was.

Opening the bottle he tipped back his head and drained almost the whole bottle. It didn't make him feel any better, but he didn't feel worse...and that was a benefit.

The phone ringing disturbed his temporary peace, with a sigh; he reached for the handset that rested on the work surface beside him praying it wasn't trouble at work.

                "Hi darling, it's your mother."

Coop felt his head sink; he hadn't spoken to his mother more than five times over the last three years. Her voice created a myriad of emotions to rise in him. Anger, frustration, resentment...and that loneliness that haunted him when he let it. She rarely phoned him; he NEVER phoned her...he hadn't spoken to his father since he walked away from his sport a few years earlier. Mike Cooper was a man's man. He had no time for emotions and feelings, and no grasp as to why his only son would toss away his career on what he deemed a whim. Things had been said...unforgiveable things, from both sides, and the awkward standoff and been in place since. He'd inherited his father's stubbornness, and he wasn't going to give his father a chance, he'd sworn that at the time.

                "Mom. This is a surprise. How are you?" It was an empty question, he was so used to hiding his emotions from everyone, and in particular his parents that he seemed outwardly almost serene in his calmness.

He heard a soft whimper and pain lanced his chest, something was wrong and in typical fashion he knew nothing about it.

                "It's your father Mitch, he's..." she dragged in a breath then said, "he's had a heart attack. He's in hospital. I'm there now...no one knows how he's doing..." Her broken voice finally failed and she gave a sob, "I don't know if he'll survive."