Boundary
Cooper didn’t hesitate. He sprinted. Over by the sprinkler, Quinn had Brayden swaddled in her arms. The look on her face lodged his heart in his throat.
Ginny stood beside them, her skin a pale version of her new tan. “I only looked away for a second,” she eked out when he approached.
A wide scratch on Brayden’s forehead began to swell. Cooper ran a hand over his son’s hair, but Brayden pushed against Quinn’s chest, not wanting to be comforted by either of them. With his face as red as the bricks he’d obviously scraped it on, he wailed as if he’d fallen onto a bed of nails instead.
“Shh. It’s okay, baby.” Quinn bobbed him in her arms while walking back and forth, but inconsolable sobs kept him squirming restlessly to break free. “Brayden, calm down. We’re both here. Everything’s all right.”
The harder she tried to comfort him, the louder he cried.
Not knowing what else to do, Cooper set a hand on Ginny’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The last thing she needed was to feel guilty over an accident.
“Give him here.” Loraine came charging up to the scene with outstretched arms.
“He doesn’t want anyone.”
As if Loraine would listen. She scooped him up, turned him sideways till he was cozied against her middle, and rocked him from side to side. “That’s it, dear. Just relax now. Aunt Loraine’s got you.”
His sobs gradually tapered to a slow fizzle.
The rest of Quinn’s family had already flocked over to see what was going on while Loraine sent Ginny inside for a wet washcloth.
When Ginny returned, Loraine smoothed back Brayden’s hair and set the cloth to the bump on his head. “There we go, sweetie. You’re all right.”
Cooper looked from Quinn, who was cradling her empty arms, back to Loraine. “Thank you. That was kind of amazing. How’d you know what to do?”
She fluttered a hand at him. “Don’t you worry yourself about that, dear. Some things only a mama knows how to do.”
The second the words left her mouth, she looked like she would’ve given her right arm to take them back. Her eyes filled with regret as she reached for Quinn. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
Cooper’s gaze bounced from person to person in their cramped semi-circle, all bearing expressions of visible discomfort. Clearly, he was missing something. “Didn’t mean what?”
“Nothing.” Quinn’s arms came undone, and her stoic expression shattered down her face like broken glass. “Excuse me.” She pushed through the line of family members and jogged to the back door.
Cooper started after her. “Quinn?”
Mrs. Thompson stopped him by the arm. “Let it be.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” He might not know what was going on, but one thing he was sure of. The hurt in Quinn’s eyes drove his feet past any reason to stay behind.
In the house, he hurried down the hall, not slowing until he reached her old bedroom. Cautious yet resolute strides led him around the open doorway.
Quinn stood in the corner by a bedpost with her back facing him.
The oak floorboards creaked under his footsteps. Startling, she wiped her cheeks. He’d been in such a hurry to get to her, he hadn’t thought of what to say.
After a long moment, she traced her fingers down a blue and silver textured tie hanging from the top of the post. “It’s sharp, isn’t it?” she said randomly. “A present from my dad on my sixteenth birthday.”
Despite the gravity of the moment, Cooper cracked a grin. “It’d look good on you.”
A soft laugh sent a glance over her shoulder. “It’s not for me, smart aleck.”
“But you just said . . .”
“It was for my future husband—the guy Dad’s been praying for since before I was born.” She straightened the loose knot. “It was supposed to be a reminder for me to pray for him too. For our family, the life we’d build together.” The tie slid through her hands. “Turns out Dad and I both lost a lot of time on our knees for nothing.”
“Quinn—”
“We should go.” She turned, resolution once again coloring over the hidden aches trapped in her eyes. She passed him in the doorway. As much as he wanted to stop her, he sensed he shouldn’t.
By the time he reached the kitchen, Quinn had already gotten in the car. Chase came through the back door with Brayden in his arms. “You guys go on. I’ll take Livy home.”
“Thanks.” Cooper took Brayden and clasped Chase’s hand. “Tell your folks I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly.”
“Don’t worry about it, man. They understand.”
Good thing someone did.
Cooper half hoped he’d figured it out on the way home. But when Quinn stared out the passenger window the entire ride, the chance of talking faded with the sunlight.
Maybe her mom was right about letting it be for now. Considering Quinn went straight to her room when they got home, she obviously agreed.
Cooper took his time getting Brayden down by extending their bedtime reading, maybe more for himself than for Brayden. That fall would leave a mark on his head for a few days, but like most kids, his resilience had already relegated the memory to a thing of the past. Too bad adults couldn’t do the same with their own pain.
He kissed Brayden good night, eased the door closed, and started down the hall to the opposite end. But when he noticed the light coming from Quinn’s room, he couldn’t bring himself to pass. He tapped a knuckle to the unclosed door and cracked it open far enough to see if she was okay.
Still in her sundress, Quinn sat on the bed with a pillow buried in her lap.
He dropped his hat on the dresser and sat beside her, not sure what to say or if she wanted him to say anything at all. His mind wandered back to the way Loraine’s comment had driven her to the tie in her room and the disappointment in what she thought she’d missed out on.
The veins in Cooper’s hands tightened. “If this is about Brian—”
“It’s about me, and don’t worry, I feel nothing. Because a woman who isn’t whole couldn’t possibly feel anything, right?”
The dejection in her voice splintered through his chest. “Not whole? What are you talking about?”
She coiled a stray thread from the hem of her pillowcase around her finger—one direction, then the other—until she finally looked up. The entire lake couldn’t hold the amount of grief in her eyes. “I can’t have kids, Cooper.”
Her words almost knocked the wind from him. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” She let the thread unfurl, but the resonance of bitterness coiled even tighter. “I started having these symptoms a few months after Brian and I got engaged. I knew something was wrong, but I wouldn’t let myself think the worst, even after I got the results.”
She compressed the pillow to her stomach as though trying to cauterize a fresh wound. “I begged my doctor to give me more options, prayed for another solution. But there was only one.”
The yearning to comfort her overrode the urge to brace himself for whatever she was about to say. He stretched a hand over hers and smoothed his thumb across her skin.
“I had a hysterectomy two months later.” She withdrew and caged in her shame behind her long lashes. “I didn’t want to. I swear, I searched for an alternative, but I . . .” Her voice broke, and so did his heart.
Cooper took her hand again. When she didn’t retreat this time, he brought it to his lap and cradled it in both of his. “Quinn.”
“I know I act like I don’t want this life, but you’re right. I do.” Sorrow bled down her cheeks. “Growing up, it’s all I ever wanted: a family home like my parents have, a heritage my children could build on. I can’t offer anyone that now.”
“That’s not true.”
A broken smile looked up at him. “You haven’t lived here long, Cooper. Family is everything. If you can’t have kids, you’re . . .”
The look on his face must’ve told her not to finish that insane thought. This wasn’t the Stone Age.
Their conversation about Loraine and her husband leaving her soared to mind, chased by the image of Brian standing beside his pregnant wife.
Was that why they broke up? So he could go find someone who could bear his children? Seriously, what century were they in? The tendons in Cooper’s arms pulsed. What a world-class jerk. If the loser were half a real man, he’d see how amazing Quinn was with kids and what a great mom she’d make if given the chance. There were other options.
His heart raced a dangerous mix of emotions.
She wiped her cheek. “It’s one of those things that never crosses your mind growing up.”
The soft, vulnerable tenor in her voice shut out everything else around them. “You always think you’ll have a choice. That you can start a family whenever you want.”
A slow blink lifted her eyes toward his. “No one prepares you how to feel when you find out you failed at being a woman.”
Sitting with her and hearing the damage in her heart poured out so vulnerably, Cooper could hardly breathe for how much he wanted to take her hurt away and make her see she was more of a woman than any girl he’d ever met.
Heart pounding, he stood and pulled her to her feet.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you off the bed.”
The skin between her eyes wrinkled. “I see that. Why?”
“Because.” His fingertips glided over her cheek, his eyes deep and earnest. “If I kiss you on that bed, I won’t be able to leave.”
Her breath quickened under his touch. He leaned in, never releasing her gaze, until his lips brushed hers. He’d imagined kissing her more times than he should admit. But the moment her mouth softened against his, an all-consuming desire to love her overtook every part of him.
Breath, time—lost. Heartbeats replaced seconds. His free hand slid around her waistline to her back and brought her tighter.
Secured against him, Quinn stretched her hand up his chest and into the hair behind his ear. The more she gave herself to him, the deeper he lost himself in all she was, all he wanted to share with her. Until fragmented conversations sprang to mind with clear reminders this was a mistake.
“She’s more fragile than she lets on.”
“Without boundaries, that pressure can leave marks forever.”
He’d wanted to help her heal, but here he was, proving her parents right that he’d hurt her.
A feather-soft moan separated his lips from hers and ignited short, shallow breaths in the space between them. At least one of them could breathe.
Eyes closed, Cooper covered her hand with his and drew her wrist to his lips. For what felt like an indefinite amount of time, he held it there, waiting for the strength to let go.
“Trust me, you haven’t come close to failing.” Without saying anything else, he set her palm on his chest, framed her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her once more with the kind of tenderness she deserved from a guy who’d treat her right. “Good night, Quinn.”
Her eyes seemed to beg for an explanation, but he couldn’t answer. Couldn’t stay.
He hesitated at the door for another second before leaving her behind a boundary he knew needed to be in place. For both their sakes.
Three steps down the hall, he stopped and turned right back around. With one hand on the knob and the other braced against the trim, Cooper released a tense breath. It was too late to take back that kiss. And honestly? He didn’t want to. But this wasn’t about him or his selfishness.
Shadows flickered underneath the door. The knob turned but then stopped, and everything in him wanted her to open it so he could go back inside, tell her what he felt.
Yielding to resolve instead, he rested his forehead to the door and prayed his heart had the courage to surrender what wasn’t his to keep.