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“Yes.”
“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.”
Quincy took a deep breath and eased herself lower, bracing for the pleasure and the pain, knowing it wouldn’t be one or the other.
It would be both at once, forever intertwined.
34.
Coop texts me the name of a hotel a few blocks from my apartment and the number of the room he’s staying in. I don’t know if he booked the room before coming into the city to meet Sam or after. I decide not to ask.
I pause outside his door, uncertain if I’ll be able to face him again. I already know I don’t want to. I’d rather be anywhere but this dim hotel hallway with its buzzing ice machine and carpet-shampoo stench. But we have a history. No matter what Coop has done, I owe him the chance to explain himself.
I knock, the door quickly squeaking open beneath my fist. My hand remains clenched as Coop steps into view.
“Quincy.” The nod he gives me is quick, shameful. “Come in. If you want to.”
Only the past keeps me there. My past. Coop’s role in it. The undeniable fact that I wouldn’t even have a past if it weren’t for him. So I enter, stepping into a room shocking in its smallness. It’s nothing more than a large closet someone has managed to fit a bed and dresser into. There’s roughly two feet of space between bed and wall, making it hard for me to edge around Coop as he closes the door behind me.
The room has no chairs. Rather than sit on the bed, I remain standing.
I know exactly what I need to do, which is to tell Coop everything. About what Sam has done. WhatI’vedone. Maybe then I can start the process of getting my life back to normal. Not that it’s ever been normal after Pine Cottage.
But I can’t confess to Coop. I can barely look at him.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say, arms folded, shifting weight onto my left leg so my hip angrily juts.
“I’ll be quick,” Coop says.
He’s just showered, steam lingering inside the minuscule bathroom. Dampness clings to his close-cropped hair and his body seems to radiate humidity, sultry and soap scented.
“I need to explain myself. To explain my actions.”
“What you do in your free time is none of my business,” I say. “It’s not as if you mean anything to me.”
Coop winces, and I feel a satisfying twinge of strength. I’m hurting him too. Drawing blood.
“Quincy, we both know that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” I say. “If we meant something to each other you wouldn’t have gone to my apartment to try and fuck Sam while I was away.”
“That’s not why I was there.”
“It sure as hell looked that way to me.”
“She called me, Quincy,” Coop says. “She said she was concerned about you. So I came. Because something wasn’t sitting right with me. I don’t trust her, Quincy. I haven’t since she arrived. She’s up to something, and I wanted to find out what it was.”
“Seduction is an interesting interrogation technique,” I say. “You use it often?”
“What you saw wasn’t planned, Quincy. It just happened.”
I roll my eyes, going all big and dramatic, just like Janelle used to do.
“That’s the oldest excuse in the book.”
“It’s true,” Coop says. “You don’t know how lonely I am, Quincy. So completely alone. I live in a house big enough for five people. But there’s only me. Some rooms I haven’t entered for years. They’re empty, the doors closed.”
His confession leaves me speechless. This is the first time Coop has ever opened up to me like this. It turns out we have more in common than I ever imagined. Yet I refuse to feel sorry for him. I’m not ready to forgive him.