Newport, Iowa
12:47 PM
Brynia's POV
(pronounced BR-I-NIY-AH)
Two years of living together had made everything feel easy.
Shared toothbrush cup. Shared laundry basket. Shared grocery runs that always ended with him tossing extra snacks into the cart for you, grinning like he wasn't obvious.
You and Cooper had moved into your tiny Iowa apartment during sophomore year and never looked back.
He'd been drafted to Philly now—half a country away—but the walls still felt like they held him. His sweatshirts on hooks. His cologne on the pillow. His sticky note reminders on the fridge.
Except now he was calling you three times in the span of one morning, his voice tight every time.
"Baby, you sure you don't want me to set up an appointment for your oil change?"
From your dorm study lounge, you pinch the bridge of your nose. "Coop, it's just an oil change. I've done it before."
"Yeah, but you did it with me there."
You exhale. "I will be fine."
He pauses like he's trying to choose his next words carefully.
"I just... don't like you goin' by yourself."
You glance around the empty lounge. "Are you... worried something's gonna happen?"
He doesn't answer right away.
Which tells you the truth.
"Cooper..."
"I know, I know," he mutters. "You're capable. You're smart. You're independent. I know all that."
His voice softens.
"But I'm not there. And that's... new."
Your heart folds.
Cooper DeJean has always been steady—calm, grounded, unshakeable.
But now?
He's miles away in Philadelphia with the Eagles, living out his dream, and the one thing that's making him nervous is you pumping gas alone.
"It's Iowa," you remind him gently. "I've lived here forever."
"That don't mean I like you out there by yourself."
You smile a little. "You never did."
He huffs. "Yeah. At least when I was home, I'd just run out and fill your tank before you ever noticed it was low."
You soften. "I noticed."
There's a long, warm quiet on the other end of the phone—his kind of quiet, the kind that feels like he's still sitting in the apartment with you.
"I just hate that I'm not there," he finally says, voice low and honest. "I hate that you gotta do all that stuff without me now."
"Coop, I'm finishing one more year. That's it. Then I'm with you in Philly."
"I know."
He swallows hard.
"It just don't feel real yet. I wake up and you're not next to me. I come home and the apartment is too damn clean 'cause you're not here making messes everywhere."
"You make more messes than I do."
He laughs, soft and quiet. "Yeah, well. I miss yours more."
Your eyes sting. "I miss you too."
Another pause.
Then—
"Brynia, I just... I need to know you're safe. That's all."
You curl your knees up on the couch. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise."
"Don't promise things you can't control," he murmurs, voice warm but firm. "Promise me you'll call me before you go places. That's it. Just call me."
You blink. "You want me to call you before I leave the house?"
"Yes."
"Cooper..."
"I ain't jokin'. Just call me."
His tone softens again, turning gentle.
"Let me feel like I'm still part of your day. Let me worry the way I do. You know that's how I love."
Your heart clenches.
Because this isn't control.
It's connection.
It's him missing the routines you shared—driving you places, fixing things, filling your tank, sitting in the passenger seat teasing you about your music choices.
"Hey," you say softly, "look at us. We're making long distance work."
He exhales. You can hear him rubbing a hand over his face like he always does when he tries to hide how emotional he is.
"It just feels wrong not being there to help," he finally says.
"You are helping. Every day. You call me. You check in. You remind me I'm not doing life alone. That's enough."
There's a beat of silence.
Then—
"I just want you with me," he admits quietly. "I want you in Philly. I want to look over my shoulder after practice and see you waiting for me. I want to come home to you again."
Your throat tightens. "We'll get there. I'm not going anywhere."
He hums a low, relieved sound.
"You promise?" he asks.
This time, you know you can.
"I promise."
He breathes out like you lifted something heavy off his chest.
"And baby?" he adds, voice dipping into that soft, teasing tone he only uses with you.
"If your gas light goes on, you better call me before you even think about touching that pump."
You laugh. "Yes, Cooper. I'll call."
"Good."
You can hear the smile in his voice.
"Long as you're still my girl back home, I'll sleep fine out here."
Your voice softens. "Always."
And even though your apartment feels half-empty without him—
somehow, hearing him breathe across the line makes it feel full again.
———————
love you guys 💗
for (bessonlover09 )
