Page 83 of Structure of Love

“Your expression is so calm, but you’re rattled as hell.”

“Coping mechanism. The masking, I mean.” I rubbed my free hand over my face, not willing to show anything for a moment. “I have to hold it together because no one else will.”

“I will.” He leaned in and kissed my temple. “I’ll hold it together, so give yourself a second to react, yeah?”

I turned to look at him, saw the calm, the strength in his eyes. I didn’t know how to explain even to myself why, when I looked at him, I was reminded of a bunker. Or a safe house. Something so solid, like a bolt-hole I could curl into. I gave in, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I needed some of his strength right now. I needed it desperately if I was to handle everything else tonight.

He placed another kiss on the top of my head and let me stay there. It was wonderfully peaceful. He didn’t ask me questions, didn’t make demands, just let me be. It was the kindest, most loving thing anyone had ever done for me.

My heart fell a little more in love with him.

Almost three hours later, they brought me back to Cooper’s room. He had a proper cast on his arm now, along with a brace around his ribs. He somehow looked even worse in the harsh lighting of the hospital, every bruise and cut in sharp relief against his pale skin. He sat upright, at least, between the pillowand the tilted bed, and his leg was raised on more pillows. Overall he appeared pretty pitiful.

The doctor looked about my age, and he turned to greet me. “Hi, I’m Dr. Harris. Are you the brother?”

“That’s me.”

“Mom?”

“We’ll call her after you tell me what’s going on. That’ll go down a lot better than ‘I don’t know.’”

“Ah-ha, noted. One of those types, huh?” Dr. Harris glanced at the chart. “Well, let’s start with the obvious. He’s got a clean break in his arm, so that’ll be in a cast for a good two months at least. Bottom two ribs on his right side are cracked, and if he hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, the damage would have been a lot worse. He’s got a hematoma on the side of his knee as well that needs to be elevated so the swelling will go down. Other than that, his liver is not in great shape, especially for his age. His blood tests show elevated liver enzymes. He needs to stop drinking entirely. His blood sugar is also not good, probably from all the drinking and poor diet. Withdrawal will also slow down the healing process.” Dr. Harris turned to look directly at Cooper as he said, “If you’re trying to kill yourself before you’re thirty, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Cooper looked properly abashed. Wow, I’d never seen him look guilty when someone called him out. Normally he blew them off.

“I suspect a concussion, and him detoxing from alcohol will not be pretty. We’ll need to keep a very close eye on him, especially for the next forty-eight hours. He’s had a CT scan, and blood drawn, but I’m waiting on results before I start a treatment plan. Thankfully, he doesn’t need surgery, but the withdrawal symptoms are going to be hell for the next several days, ranging anywhere from eight to ten days. Once you do go home, no lifting anything over five pounds, sleep propped up,and for god’s sake, no alcohol.” The doctor glared at Cooper some more. “No caffeine either. It’ll inhibit your bones knitting together.”

Cooper’s face dropped. “Seriously? Not even coffee?”

“Especially not coffee. But not even soda. Otherwise you’ll pay for it, trust me. Your nervous system is already out of whack and crying because of all the alcohol, giving it caffeine will just make a bad thing worse.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harris.” It was going to be real fun making sure Cooper obeyed those instructions, but also not my problem. As hard as curbing my own impulses would be, I was determined to adhere to my decision. I was not his keeper. I would help, but it was his decision on what to do, how to live, and on his head so be it.

Still, that was a terrible litany the doctor had rattled off. Cooper was too young for those kinds of liver values, and it was sad he was already in withdrawal. I wished, fervently, he’d learned something from tonight. I prayed he wouldn’t go right back to drinking.

Maybe healing for months and the court-mandated rehab would help him quit the alcohol. With his somber mood and the way reality had just bitch slapped him across the face, surely he’d realized he wasn’t immortal.

When the doctor left, I sighed. “All right, I’m going to call Mom.”

Cooper strangely didn’t argue when I left the room, and he wore an expression I didn’t know how to interpret. Just what was going on with him? Had he experienced some change of heart?

Could I truly hope Cooper would see the light?

27

Logan

Gage stood at the end of the hallway, on the phone with his mom, trying to talk her down from the ledge. I didn’t envy him the job. She sounded on the verge of hysterics.

I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave Cooper alone for too long, so I entered his room. I was mostly here for moral support and to drive Gage home again. With him so rattled by tonight’s events, I didn’t want him driving.

Cooper glanced up from the hospital bed as I walked in. This kid looked a wreck. I realized I had maybe nine years on him, but he felt so much younger than me. Then again, I had more life experience than he did. Maybe that was why I felt this gap.

That, and he looked very lost and young.

“You’re…Logan. From Blackbird bar?”

“That’s me.” I was vaguely surprised he recognized me, considering he was usually six sheets to the wind when he was at my bar.