Cooper started to suspect something was wrong when the FBI arrived. Well, more wrong. He, Park, his dad, Dean, and Cayla had all been shuffled into the front room. This kept them far away from whatever was happening in the backyard but with prime seats to watch a big black SUV pull to the curb in front of the house and two suits step out.
“Do you know them?” Ed asked, and Cooper rolled his eyes.
“No, Dad. The FBI’s a little bit bigger than the sheriff’s office,” he snapped, and Dean shot him a look. Cooper resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. It was hard not reverting back to childish rhythms here.
The agents—a tall Latino man and an equally tall white woman—swaggered across the front lawn and into the house with such perfect synchronicity it had to have been practiced. It was moments like these that he sympathized with his father’s disdain of the FBI. The agents headed straight for the back of the house, ignoring the front room completely. Cooper frowned and went to stand by Park, who was sitting calmly in the corner of the room.
“Something’s up,” he murmured.
Park raised an eyebrow, expression otherwise unchanging. “Besides the body just dug up in your father’s yard?”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “A skeleton,” he corrected. “It could be ancient or something.” Park looked skeptical. “Well, it had to be there before the gazebo was built, and who knows how long that’s been here? Before my family moved in, at least. But now they’re freezing us out.”
The Jagger Valley uniforms had started friendly enough, or as friendly as one could get over human remains. They’d all known his dad and Dean from the county sheriff’s office of course. But at some point the tone had changed and the front room began to feel more like a holding cell than a safe place.
“And now the friggin’ FBI? What the hell are they doing here? I know the Jagger Valley sheriff’s department isn’t exactly equipped, but this seems a bit much.”
“With your father and brother’s connections, it wouldn’t exactly be ethical to have their coworkers investigate.”
“Sure, if they were suspects,” Cooper scoffed. “But not this.”
Park glanced pointedly to the right, and Cooper noticed his family intently eavesdropping. He sighed and shut up. As far as they knew, Cooper and Park were the FBI. And they were. Sort of. But there was a distinct separation between the rest of the FBI and the BSI. One he doubted the newly arrived agents would let go without comment. The last thing he needed was suspicions from Ed and Dean that he was lying about his job. Especially after what had gone down with Park.
Just then the suits walked in. Cooper watched their eyes take in the dynamics. The front room, like the gazebo, had been his mother’s space while his dad had spent his time in the back rec room, and it showed even after all this time. The brightly colored furniture peppered with cozy blankets, the little glass bird figurines she’d loved peering down at them from the shelves, the photo books on Patagonia she’d pore over, planning an elaborate trip that would never happen. Cooper didn’t think a single item had been moved in the last twenty-five years.
Cayla was curled up on the couch with Dean at her side reading her a book about South American amphibians. Beside them Ed was tense and uncomfortable in one of his mother’s straight-back chairs, Park was removed and separate on the other side of the room, and Cooper stood caught between the two groups.
Both agents’ eyes stuttered over Park. Barely noticeable unless you were trained to look for these things. Cooper glanced back to try and see what they saw. Park was a big man, tall and powerfully built, and his posture was carefully arranged to look relaxed and innocuous. Cooper was used to this, but something about it seemed more effortful today. The raw power of the wolf was running closer to the surface than usual. He looked...dangerous. And the agents had noticed, too.
Cooper stepped in front of Park, interrupting the agents’ gaze. “What’s going on?”
“I’m Special Agent Primelles and this is Agent Joon,” the man said. “We just have a couple quick questions. This shouldn’t take long.”
Cooper sighed. It shouldn’t, but it would. And it did. First a Jagger Valley deputy—and friend of Dean’s—was asked to sit with Cayla in another room, and then they were each asked to introduce themselves, their reason for being there, and their movements through the day. It was harder than it sounded and, predictably, Ed interrupted to say Cooper and Park worked for the FBI as well.
“BSI,” Cooper corrected, and showed his badge when they asked. Whatever his dad was trying to do wasn’t going to work. He remembered being an FBI agent himself and hearing rumors about the mysterious BSI. Even the FBI weren’t aware of the true purpose of the bureau. But it was hard keeping a secret, especially in the government, and most agents suspected there was more going on than the cover story. Those suspicions grated, giving the BSI agents a weird reputation. Many FBI agents disliked and mocked them while at the same time were desperate to be a part of it and in on the secret.
“And Mr. Park, you’re also with the BSI? For how long?”
“Not long.”
“And you’re in town for Mr. Dayton’s engagement party?”
“Yes.”
“As a friend of the family?” Primelles asked.
“Yes.” Park’s tone didn’t change. But something about him, maybe the way he was watching Primelles with an almost detached, unblinking stare, raised the hairs on Cooper’s arms, and he didn’t think he was the only one. He had never seen Park make so little effort to put a person at ease before. Not unless he was confronting another wolf.
Cooper watched the agents closely as they continued questioning, but he was almost positive they were human. Only humans would continue to push Park when he was like this, either ignorant to all the warning signs or, like Cooper, just pigheaded enough to pretend they were.
“So you had just finished clearing this gazebo away.” Primelles gestured at Park’s filthy hands. “Could you explain again why you were digging around in the dirt with your hands, Mr. Park?”
“I saw something.”
“You saw something. While you were standing by the truck?” Joon prompted, but Park just shrugged, face aggressively blank. Cooper almost felt sorry for them.
Clearly not getting anything from Park, Joon changed focus to Ed, tone overly casual and friendly now, and Cooper breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing subtle about his dad’s back-off signals. “Mr. Dayton, with a busy weekend ahead of you already, why’d you decide to tear down the gazebo today?”
Ed opened his mouth, shut it, shook his head. “I don’t...know.”
Cooper’s eyebrows shot up. “What—?” He glanced at Dean, who looked just as confused by their father’s response. “It was falling apart, rotting. Right, Dad?” Ed shrugged, but he didn’t look at him. Cooper turned back on the agents. “Why are you here? Why are you treating us like suspects?”
Primelles stared at him coolly. “Just trying to figure out how a murdered man ended up under your gazebo.”
“Murdered?” Dean said.
“Without a doubt.”
“Well, how should he know?” Cooper said. “That gazebo’s been here for ages. Maybe you should find whoever lived here before us. Right, Dad?”
His father was shaking his head, lips pressed together and frowning.
“We also have a tentative ID on the victim. Alex Hardwick.”
Cooper could sense the stillness from his dad and Dean, the sudden tension. But feeling every inch the baby brother, he couldn’t stop from babbling on, confused and playing catch-up. “You mean like Mrs. Hardwick next door?”
“Her husband, yes.”
“But he—he left her...”
Recently, Cooper wanted to say. But of course it wasn’t recently. It was around twenty-five years ago now. But he could remember Mr. Hardwick clearly. He’d always smelled of cigarettes and those hard cinnamon candies he sucked, trying to cover up the smell. He’d laughed a lot, a lot more than Mrs. Hardwick, and visited the field while the neighbor kids were playing to join them for a game of catch, though he didn’t have children of his own. Thinking back on it now, Cooper realized he’d been a very handsome man, blue-black hair and snapping dark eyes. Cooper could remember feeling pleased when Mr. Hardwick ruffled his hair and gave him cinnamon candies, though he probably did it with all the kids.
It was hard to marry the memory of that man to the empty bones in the backyard. Harder still knowing Alex Hardwick had disappeared when Cooper was a kid and somehow ended up under the gazebo that had supposedly already been there.
“How is that possible?” he said.
The agents weren’t looking at him anymore. They were looking at his dad.
“When did you say the gazebo went up, Mr. Dayton?”
Ed jerked his head and avoided their eyes. “I didn’t. I didn’t say. I don’t...remember.”
Cooper blinked. The obvious lie took the breath out of his lungs.
Dean cut into the awkward silence. “It was a couple years before Mom passed. I was in seventh grade, I think. Coop, you were nine. Remember?”
Cooper jerked his head, scanning his memory for a time before the gazebo, but the results were fuzzy at best. He spent as little time as possible thinking about his childhood. After his mom had died, everything about those first eleven years was seen through a lens of loss and what could have been, and it hurt. It just hurt. So he stopped thinking about it, and eventually the less important memories had faded.
“That happen to be the same summer Alex Hardwick disappeared?”
Dean shrugged but said, “Yeah, I guess so.” He glanced at their dad, but Ed was just staring into space.
“And did you have a company put the gazebo in, Mr. Dayton?”
“A company?” Ed repeated back like he didn’t understand the question. Cooper didn’t get why he was taking this so hard. Was it disturbing that their missing neighbor had been rotting away in the backyard all these years? Hell yeah. But his dad was acting like they’d told him they’d just dug up Mom or something.
“Dad?” Dean prompted.
“No. I built it myself. Thought it’d be nice for... No wonder it’s falling apart, huh?” He laughed his forced, awkward laugh, and no one joined him.
A uniform approached the room and hovered awkwardly in the doorway.
“Stop lurking and c’mon in, Damien,” Ed called, beckoning him closer. The man, Damien, waved back but didn’t come in any farther, just looked at the agents and jerked his head toward the backyard, clearly uncomfortable.
“Excuse me,” Joon said, and went to speak to him in the hall.
Ed blinked at their retreating backs, and for a moment, seeing him look lost, embarrassed and old, Cooper felt a strange surge of protectiveness for his father, something he’d never felt before.
“BSI. Bureau of Special Investigation, right?” Primelles said thoughtfully. “Remind me what is it exactly you guys cover, again?”
“Especially violent crime,” Cooper muttered, feeling like committing one himself. It was the standard response they were told to give, but while his dad was still out of it, lost in his own thoughts, he could see Dean listening with narrowed eyes. So he’d told his family he worked behind the scenes. Paperwork mostly, and some traveling up and down the East Coast evaluating law agencies. A sort of oversight and research committee. Yeah, he’d lied. So what?
“And Mr. Park... Mr. Park?” Primelles frowned. Park was staring into space, eyes half-closed like he was falling asleep, or concentrating. “Oliver Park.”
Dean was watching him with confusion, and Cooper punched him lightly in the arm.
Park shook his head and smiled. “I’m sorry. What were you saying, Agent?”
Before Primelles could continue, Joon came back into the room and gave him a very unsubtle and significant look. “We’ll need to talk to you separately now. Mr. Ed Dayton? We’ll start with you. Is there somewhere private we can speak”—she looked at Cooper—“uninterrupted?”
“What? Why? What did you find just now? What happened?”
His dad seemed to finally get a hold of himself at that point and come alive, though not in the way Cooper expected. “Cooper Isaac. Enough. They’re just doing their jobs. Of course I’ll give a statement. Dean? Take care of your brother.”
Cooper spluttered at that and looked at Park. But Park was watching Ed with his classic closed expression and didn’t say a word as the agents led Cooper’s father away.
* * *
It was dark by the time the suits stopped the grilling and the crime scene guys started to pack up. Cooper stood in his old bedroom and looked over them as they finished removing the last of the bones. He had already watched them take soil samples and bag and tag all of his father’s tools. It was a familiar scene, one he’d overseen plenty of times on the job, made surreal by the fact it was happening in his childhood backyard. The dark figures moving around in the shadows looked like aliens, imposters, and he had to stop himself from running out there and screaming at them to get out. They didn’t belong here.
Catty-corner to the yard, Mrs. Hardwick’s house hunkered down in darkness. In her back window, overlooking the crime scene, Cooper could sometimes catch movement, so slight it could be the reflection of bat wings as they swooped and soared for their evening meal. Or it could be Mrs. Hardwick doing the same thing he was, reviewing the reality of life for the last twenty-five years and making edits. While he had climbed into his mother’s lap where she sat in her gazebo, a man had been buried, still meaty and whole, ten feet below them. While he had been getting his first kiss, flat on his back in the field, streaked with mud and under the stars, a man had been turning into desiccated flesh and bones, flat on his back, forty feet away. While he had fought with his father and lover just hours ago, a man’s bones had been slowly revealed beneath Cayla’s singing and stomping feet.
And those were just the changes that he, a nobody, a random neighbor kid to Mr. Hardwick, had to make. What new reality did his wife have to piece together after finding out her runaway husband had never made it farther than the neighbor’s yard?
“Hey.” Park came into the room and stood next to him.
“That took a while,” Cooper said. “I didn’t think they’d even want to talk to you.”
“Mmm.” Park sighed. “They’re being...thorough.”
“What was that about before? In the front room? You were listening to what Damien told Agent Joon, weren’t you?”
Park grimaced. “Yeah. They found the murder weapon buried with the vic.”
“Okay. That’s good, right?”
“It looks like someone bashed his head in with a long-handled hoe. The hoe matches the other tools in your father’s shed, Cooper.”
“No,” he said automatically. “I mean, fine. I’m sure a lot of people have the same kind.”
“Maybe. But his is missing. I noticed this morning, and so did the agents.”
“Okay, so what? He doesn’t even garden.”
Park held up his hands. “I’m just telling you what they’re thinking.”
“What do you mean?”
“I may have done a bit more eavesdropping just now.”
“Good. That’s good, thank you.” Park was shaking his head. “What? What’s wrong?”
“They’re coming at him hard, Cooper, and he’s...not really helping himself.”
“Help himself? Why should he need to help himself?”
“He won’t answer their questions.”
“Because he doesn’t have to,” Cooper protested, feeling uneasy, remembering the way Ed had completely shut down earlier. “He’s innocent!”
“If you were in their shoes, what would you think if a witness with means, motive, and opportunity kept evading every question?”
“Motive? What motive?”
Park looked away. “I don’t know.” He paused. Then, “They implied Hardwick was a bit of a flirt.”
Cooper laughed. “And what, my dad freaked out? I know I’ve been weird about coming out to him, but I didn’t mean to make it sound like he’s a monster.”
“They weren’t saying Hardwick was flirting with him.”
Cooper blinked. “My mom? No, that’s ridiculous. You don’t know my parents. You don’t know her.”
“I’m just telling you what they were saying.”
Cooper looked away from him back to the window. It was so dark now that his own reflection almost entirely blocked the outside scene.
After a moment, Park’s hand smoothed over his shoulder, across his shoulder blades and down his back. Cooper swayed into the touch. Despite being kept waiting, each of them separate, and doing nothing for hours, he was exhausted. A part of him, a big part, wanted to turn to Park to burrow into his warmth and strength and not come out till next spring.
“Are you okay?”
He straightened, pulling away from Park’s hand. “The FBI thinks my dad murdered our neighbor, Oliver. I’m fine, how are you?”
“I’ve been better.” Park smiled. “Besides that, how are you?”
“It’s weird. I really thought that gazebo had always been there, you know. Even looking out now with it gone, it’s not triggering any sort of memory of before.”
“Well, you were young.”
“Not that young. And old enough to remember Mr. Hardwick pretty well.”
“Maybe because you associate the gazebo so much with your mom, you can’t imagine it not being there.”
Cooper shuddered. “She spent as much time as possible in that thing. Even after she was sick and got so cold so easily, I used to pull all the comforters off the beds and drag them across the yard to her.” He laughed. “Dad would get so furious, but he never took them back. One day he just bought a huge blanket and chest to keep out there all the time.”
Outside the techs wheeled a dark blue body bag away. It looked empty with so little left of the man. “I liked him,” Cooper said, watching them.
“Who, your dad?”
“No. Mr. Hardwick. He was so...bright, you know? One of those people everyone just gravitates toward. Flirt, huh? Maybe. I think it was more like charisma. Like you.”
Park snorted. “Me?”
“Yeah, I’ve always thought that. Even when I didn’t want to like you, I couldn’t stay away.” Park tilted his head, staring intently, like he was hearing something utterly fascinating, and Cooper laughed, feeling awkward. “Anyway. Hardwick was one of those. He was unbelievably cool. And so happy and handsome and...full of life.” He paused. “I used to think he and I had a special sort of relationship.”
Park frowned.
“No. God. Not like that. He was never inappropriate with me. Not at all. But looking back I think I had a little childish crush, or whatever the equivalent of a nine-year-old crush is. Not sexual, of course, but shit, I idolized him. Wanted to be him, wanted to be near him. I just really wanted him to like me.”
Cooper shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more the memories became clear. Like unlocking dusty old boxes in his head. “I was devastated when he left. I don’t think I spared one thought for Mrs. Hardwick—I was too busy feeling abandoned and personally betrayed. As if he had cared about me any more than any of the other brats trailing after him all day. I remember thinking he’d ruined my whole summer break.” He laughed. “And then by winter break I’d forgotten all about him.”
“You fickle thing.”
“Aren’t I just?” He sighed. “I’m going to call Santiago and ask for some time off. I can’t leave until this is all settled. Not with this ridiculous suspicion hanging over my dad’s head.”
Park nodded. “I can stay, too. As long as you need me.”
Cooper’s heart skipped with relief and pleasure even as he flapped his hand at Park. “I don’t need—I mean, you’re welcome to stay, but if you can’t get the time off, don’t worry about it.”
“I already have it.”
He frowned. “When? How?”
“I let them know I was taking personal leave a few days ago. After the Ann Arbor case.”
Cooper blinked at him. “I didn’t know that.” Obviously. “Why...were you going to tell me that before we got back to DC on Monday?”
“Of course,” Park said, so adamantly he sounded like he was convincing himself. “Look, I just needed some time off—”
“From what? The job or me?”
Park sighed. “It’s not like that.”
“Okay, I’m asking you what it is like.”
“Cooper—” Park broke off, covering his face with his hands as if he had a headache, but not before Cooper saw a flash of wolf in his eyes. For the second time that day. With everything that had happened, Cooper had forgotten about their fight outside and Park had let him. Just like every other time, he was sure Park would let it go and not bring it up again. Another fresh start. Another clean slate. Another new beginning.
Suddenly Cooper didn’t want it.
The problem with constantly starting over was that you never get very far on the journey.
“I’m sorry,” Cooper blurted. His heart was beating hard, but fuck it, what were they here for if not this?
Park looked at him. He had that same odd look on his face he’d had when they first got to Jagger Valley that looked so much like nerves, but a little hopeful, too. “For what?”
“Everything. Well, for earlier, and for being, you know, me.” Cooper laughed awkwardly.
“What the hell, Dayton,” Park said, sounding angry. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Relax, I just mean... I know I’ve been a dick recently. I don’t want you to think I’m proud of that or that I don’t regret it.” He sighed and fidgeted. “I need you to know I’m trying to do better. These last few months have been...weird, with, you know, work and stuff. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to get short with you just because I’m stressed.”
A flash of understanding passed over Park’s face. “What they say does bother you.”
“Of course it bothers me,” Cooper retorted. “How could it not fucking bother me? It’s horrible being hated. I get that you’re like universally beloved, but still, don’t tell me that’s surprising to you.”
“You don’t say anything. You won’t let me say anything.”
“Because it’s also fair. My ex-partner was a bigoted, homicidal, piece-of-shit sociopath and I didn’t even notice. What does that say about me? There’s a whole team still tracking down those disgusting videos, for god’s sake. I don’t deserve to do this job. They know it, I know it, and while you’re being very sweet and protective of my feelings because, I don’t know, I’m a good lay or something, you know it, too.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was.”
Considering these were things he’d been thinking almost daily for over four months, it was unexpectedly hard to voice them now to Park. Why? Because the guilt was still visceral. Because it had revealed things about himself he didn’t like and he wasn’t sure he deserved redemption. Because it was humiliating. Because he cared what Park thought of him.
Because he cared about Park.
It was absurd to keep pretending like he didn’t. Especially to himself. He’d started caring about Park during their first disastrous case together. He’d realized how much as soon as he saw him in that cage and thought he could lose him.
“Are you thinking of leaving the BSI?” Park asked simply, and Cooper appreciated the dry, hard straightforwardness, even if hearing the words he’d only skirted around himself felt as brutal as a jab to the windpipe. Breathtaking. Choking.
“I don’t know.” He tried to match the honesty. “I don’t know what I’d do besides this.”
And he didn’t want to lose Park. That was why he was struggling with this building pressure to nail down their relationship. What were they outside of partners? It was all too tied up right now. Everything in limbo at once. If he left the BSI, was he saying goodbye to Park as well? Until he knew that, was Park the only reason he was staying?
No, he still loved the job, even if it didn’t love him back so much these days. And he—well, yeah, he was pretty fucking fond of Park, too, obviously. And what Park felt about Cooper in return was...affection? Sure, yeah. Cooper’s self-esteem wasn’t quite low enough to think Park didn’t give a shit about him at all. But did he care enough to keep seeing him if they no longer worked together and it stopped being convenient? Enough to stop hiding their relationship and actually go places in public when—no, if they didn’t have the excuse of being partners to keep it on the down low anymore? If people knew they were sleeping together, it wouldn’t matter if Cooper left or not—all the hostility he got now would just transfer to Park.
Who would willingly take that on? Who the hell was Cooper to ask him to?
“Look,” Cooper said when Park started to respond with some no doubt well-intentioned suggestion. “Please don’t say anything. Just because I’m complaining about something doesn’t mean I want you to fix it for me. I’ve looked out for myself for a long time now.”
“But you don’t have to. I can handle it.”
“I know!” Cooper winced at the frustration in his voice. He remembered something Park had said to him back in Florence. I see why you don’t apologize more often. You’re terrible at it. He softened his voice. “Believe me, I know you can handle it. You handle everything. You’re always handling everything. I mean, even that story of you saving your brother out of a tree at what, eight? Meanwhile, I apparently can’t even remember being eight.”
Cooper threw his hands up. “So I get it. I know you’re this ridiculous superhero and you always have been. Shit, you might not believe in magic, but to me you’re as close to magical as anything I’ve ever known. And not just because of the whole werewolf thing, but because you’re you. All special and brilliant and patient and funny and you know, sort of good-looking sometimes, I guess.”
Park raised his eyebrows.
“But I also know I’m just a—I’m not like that. I’m a mess, honestly, at least lately. So it’s embarrassing to talk about with you. And I really don’t want you getting involved in my problems. It’s not just that I can take care of myself. I want to. Can you please respect that?”
Park looked away for a long moment. When he turned back, his expression was thoughtful. “Okay, I’ll back off. But can I at least say something about something else? Something that is about me?”
Cooper shrugged, suddenly nervous.
“In that tree with my brother, I was pissed at him. I thought he was being ridiculous. A baby. I didn’t want to wait for him to relax, so I tried to drag him down when he wasn’t ready. He shifted, his first shift, which is hard in the best of circumstances, and I almost lost him. Not to mention what happened to my sort-of-good-looking-sometimes face.” Park touched his tongue to the scar through his lip. “I try to use it to remember not to be impatient and...controlling.” He gave Cooper a strange look, a little unsure, almost worried. “I use it to remember that rushing other people risks losing them completely, so I try not to rush, but I screw up, too. I screw up a lot more than you know. So I hope you won’t be embarrassed if you do want to talk about anything.”
Cooper frowned. “You’re not impatient at all. Or if you are, you’ve been doing a really good job hiding that from me.”
“Hey, I never said I was bad at dissembling. That’s my jam.” Park smiled. “But when there’s something I really want, I’m very impatient. I think you know that.”
He gave Cooper an intense look and caught his fingers, massaging the knuckles. Cooper exhaled softly as tendrils of pleasure shot up his arm and heat flooded his face.
“I have plenty of my own flaws, Cooper. And I’m definitely not a superhero,” Park added softly.
“Oh. Okay,” Cooper said. He cleared his throat. “But you are saying you’re magical then?”
Park quirked his lips in an aborted grin. “Does that sound like something I would say?” He leaned forward, and Cooper tilted his chin up instinctively, his eyes drifting closed.
Park brushed their lips together so gently Cooper could swear he felt each individual nerve ending shared their own private kiss. They both inhaled each other’s scent and taste for a moment before Cooper nudged Park’s cheek with his nose, nuzzling the unshaven skin there, and Park surged forward and took Cooper’s mouth in a real kiss. Cooper groaned and Park’s tongue took advantage of the opening and explored his mouth as if frantically making sure everything was how he’d left it and yes, okay, there was that impatience he’d mentioned. He rubbed his body against Park’s, and felt the first flickers of arousal deep inside spark to life shockingly fast.
It had been too long. Why did he risk pushing this away?
Speaking of which. Suddenly he felt himself shoved gently but decidedly backward and cool air against his flushed skin where Park’s hands and body and lips had been a moment before. His eyes fluttered open. Park was now sitting on the trundle bed, looking rumpled, aroused, and a little predatory.
“What—” Cooper started, then heard the soft knock on the door. He jumped, called, “Yes?” and winced at the nervous pitch in his voice.
“Coop?” His dad opened the door just as Cooper started forward, and Ed stepped back into the hall, startled. “Ah, hey, boys.” Ed glanced over Cooper’s shoulder at Park and then back at Cooper. Under his arm were some clothes. “I thought you probably didn’t bring anything decent to wear for tomorrow. Can’t have you fishing in a monkeysuit. Besides, it’s already getting cold in the morning, on the water.”
Cooper blinked at Ed without comprehension, his brain still meandering its way back from that conversation. Who was he kidding, he was just thinking about the kiss.
“Tomorrow? You don’t seriously still want to go fishing,” he said finally. “Dad, they just finished pulling our dead neighbor out of the backyard.”
“Yeah, bad business,” Ed muttered.
“Worse than bad. It’s very bad, as in seriously no good. What did the agents talk to you about?”
Ed brushed him off. “Nothing. Just the same basic questions they had before.”
“Nothing new?” Cooper pushed. “Why did they keep us separate then?”
“Nah, you know how it is. They just have to follow procedure.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Cooper. Now, c’mon. When was the last time you got some fresh air?”
“Today. Maybe you missed me—I was the one in a blue shirt, digging up the murder victim.”
Ed gave him a hard look. “That has nothing to do with us as your colleagues will see soon enough. Here. For Dean’s sake.” He held up the clothes. “I pulled up some of your old stuff from the basement. It wouldn’t hurt to air overnight, mind.”
Cooper took the green cargo pants and huge red-and-black fleece button-down and stared at them dumbly. The soft, fuzzy shirt unlocked countless memories of tucking his chin into the warm collar while standing, fingers red and wrapped loosely around a pole in angry silence with his dad and Dean. Hating being dragged on these stupid “be a man” bonding trips. Resenting the painful charade of forced togetherness that just emphasized the gaping hole his mom had left in the family.
“I haven’t worn this since high school,” he murmured.
“Well, it doesn’t look like you’ve outgrown it.” Ed laughed his awkward laugh, but it sounded even more off than usual. He was uncomfortable. Why? Cooper suddenly remembered that Park wasn’t the only person he’d fought with today. Except he didn’t owe his father an apology. And he certainly didn’t expect one in return.
“Why’d you keep this?” he said.
Ed rubbed his big hand over the back of his neck. “DC isn’t so far. I thought you might want to take the boat out some weekends. Didn’t want you carting stuff back and forth.”
Cooper shifted the clothing in hands. “Right, uh, thanks.”
His dad leaned past him again. “I don’t think any of Cooper’s clothes would fit you, Oliver.”
Park was still sitting on the trundle bed pawing through his carryall. He flapped a hand. “Not a problem at all. I don’t want to intrude. I can stay here.”
“No,” Cooper and Ed said at the same time, and then glanced at each other, embarrassed. Cooper wondered if Ed was as reluctant to be alone together as he was after the awkwardness of that afternoon.
“Okay,” Park said after a strained pause. “Well, I packed some jeans.”
“Great,” Ed said, smiling under his mustache.
“Dad, what about—”
“You boys get to bed. Dean will be here at 4:30 sharp.” Ed slapped the doorframe with finality, looking more like himself for the first time in hours. “Coop, don’t make me come in here and drag your ass out of bed. As usual.”
Cooper closed the door and listened to his father’s footsteps down the hall. At some point they had turned from a stomp to a shuffle. When? After his retirement? After this afternoon?
Cooper looked at Park, who had lain back on the trundle and was watching him with his hands beneath his head like some kind of emperor on his divan. He looked wildly out of place in this room on Cooper’s faded plaid sheets.
“I should—” He gestured at the door vaguely and then turned out the lights and stripped, feeling Oliver’s gaze on him. He hesitated, then climbed into his own bed. There really wasn’t room for the two of them in a twin, but this time he let his arm hang over the edge. Park grabbed his hand and rubbed his knuckles gently.
“Sorry about that. Before, I mean,” Cooper whispered.
“It’s fine. It would have been a mistake anyway.”
Cooper twitched.
“I mean, with your father down the hall,” Park said.
“Yeah, true. Well, we’ve got small creatures to be pointlessly and horrifically cruel to before dawn so.” Cooper punched his pillow and then kept punching it more because it felt good rather than any real attempt to improve the fluffiness. The mattress suddenly dipped behind him with a groan, and Park slid into the bed next to him.
“You’re joking,” Cooper said, which came out more like a wheeze as half of Park’s significant body was now overlapping his own. “This isn’t physically possible.”
“Shhh.” Then, “I’m magical, remember?”
Cooper’s elbow jerked neatly into Park’s ribs, and he got a thrill of satisfaction hearing Park’s grunt. He said, “Yeah, well, feel free to saw yourself in half any minute now, Houdini.”
Park repositioned himself and Cooper winced, self-conscious of all the sounds the old springs were making, though surely if Ed heard he wouldn’t think that both Cooper and Park were in the same bed. Cooper was living it and he could barely fathom the idea.
Park finally settled them both on their sides, and pulled Cooper’s back to his front. “Ta-da,” he said.
Cooper rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away, mostly because there was nowhere to go. The warmth and weight of Park’s body acted like a sedative, and his thoughts started to slow.
“Cooper?”
“Hmm?”
“I think you’re pretty magical, too,” Park whispered into his hair.
Cooper twisted away and tucked his nose into the crook of Park’s forearm, the hair there tickling his nose. “Did I forget to mention you’re also an idiot?” Cooper said into his skin, and then wriggled deeper so Park wouldn’t see what he was positive was a hideously dopey smile.