“Got ’em!”
Cooper accepted them with raised brows. “Congratulations?”
“What do you need them for?” A dark thought occurred to him. “You’re not going to dismantle my car or something so I can never leave, right?”
Oh god. One tepid smile, and he’d just handed over his keys without a second thought. He was an idiot!
“I come here to get away from people,” Cooper explained slowly, like Beau should just know that and him suggesting Cooper might want to keep him there for nefarious purposes was insane.
Maybe he was going insane. Maybe the entire awful day was just some sort of hallucination. That would explain why he found Cooper’s grumpiness adorable instead of off-putting or even terrifying, right? The whole situation should be scaring the crap out of him, and instead, he couldn’t help but wonder if the clingy sweats made his ass look huge.
“Um. Right. Okay. So why…?”
“You left your headlights on,” Cooper said over his shoulder as he strolled back out of the room.
Slapping a hand to his face, Beau tried to decide if it would be better for him to just hide out in the bathroom the rest of the night rather than face Cooper and risk embarrassing himself continuously.
He pulled on his sweatshirt—one he’d had since he was in college and wouldn’t get rid of until it fell apart because it was so comfortable—then tiptoed out of the bedroom, Trucker plastered to his side.
Just as he was considering whether it would be presumptuous to sit on the couch or not, Cooper opened the front door, stomping his feet clean of snow as he entered. There were flecks of snow on his hat and plaid coat, letting Beau know it was still coming down out there.
“Thank you,” he murmured, accepting his keys once Cooper had stripped out of his outerwear. “I would have panicked if I couldn’t start my car in the morning.”
Cooper didn’t say anything for a while, heading into the kitchen and pouring something from a saucepan into a mug. There was a faint aroma of chocolate in the air, and it made Beau’s stomach growl. He hadn’t bothered stopping for dinner, not really hungry when he’d first left Detroit and then not wanting to stop because of the snow.
He was definitely regretting all of his life choices at the moment.
When Cooper turned around and found Beau still hovering in the middle of the living room, tugging at the long sleeves of his sweatshirt, he frowned. “You can sit down.”
He nodded numbly and collapsed into the corner of the large, comfy sofa, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. What was he doing? He should have just gone to his dad’s house or kicked Danny out of his apartment instead of fleeing. What if Danny was still there when he got back? What if Cooper was only pretending to be nice but tortured and killed him later that night after gaining Beau’s trust? What if he’d only borrowed the keys to sabotage something in the engine? What if—
A warm, soft body pressed against him, and a cold nose nudged at his jaw, drawing him out of his panicky spiral and back into the living room. Cooper was crouched in front of him, dark blue eyes filled with what looked like concern, deep ridges between his thick brows.
“Are you okay?” Cooper asked, his voice a little softer than normal but still kind of husky. “You were nearly hyperventilating.”
He pulled Trucker farther onto his lap and wrapped his arms around the fluffy dog, burying his embarrassed face into his fur. “I’m fine,” he said, voice muffled, then remembered Cooper’s thing about lying. “I mean, I’m not fine. But I’m feeling better. I was just… Have you ever wondered how you got to a certain place in your life? Like, what decision did you make as a kid that led you down the path that ended in this horribly painful moment?”
Eyes widening for a moment, Cooper almost looked like he was trying not to laugh as he extended the steaming mug he was holding to Beau and scratched at his whiskered cheek. “You don’t look old enough to have that many regrets, Beau.”
“Twenty-five-year-olds can have regrets,” he exclaimed, gingerly accepting the hot chocolate, even though he couldn’t see well around Trucker’s big body. “Though… most of mine tend to revolve around the men I date.”
Humming, Cooper pushed to his feet and gestured at the mug. “Drink your cocoa and stop freaking out. The snow isn’t stopping anytime soon, so we’re stuck together for a couple of days probably.”
A couple of days? Absently, he did as ordered, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid and then moaning. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Way better than when I make it with water.”
“Water?” Cooper looked honestly offended at the idea.
Beau bit his lip. “Wow. That was some hard-core judgment. And people call me pretentious…”
“Who calls you that?”
Waving a hand, he took a bigger drink, letting his eyes fall closed as the sweet warmth filled him, heating him from the inside out. He sighed happily as he relaxed for the first time in hours. No way was he going to bring up Danny and his crappy friends or the fake friends he’d had in high school. He’d thought he’d learned by now how to spot people who looked at him and only saw his dad’s money, but Danny proved he was still easily fooled.
He thought Cooper had wandered away again, so he jumped a little when he spoke from the same spot in front of Beau, and his eyes popped open.
“Did you eat?” Cooper was frowning again, studying Beau and obviously finding him lacking.
He wasn’t the first person.
“No, but you don’t have to make me something. If it’s okay with you, I’m sure I can find something when I’m done.” He tried to sound firm and in control, like he didn’t regularly forget to eat or trip over piles of dirty clothes that would accumulate if Danny wasn’t around to pester him into doing laundry.
And don’t even ask how many dishes he’d thrown away because they’d sat so long and gotten so gross he’d decided it was easier to buy new than try and clean them.
He was a work in progress, okay?
Cooper grunted like he didn’t believe Beau—which, fair. He hadn’t exactly seen Beau at his best so far.
Quickly draining his mug and gently pushing Trucker off his lap, he stood and followed him. “Cooper, seriously. You’ve already been way too nice. So just point me toward the sandwich fixings—”
“Coop.”
Beau nearly stumbled over his feet with how fast he stopped short. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You can just call me Coop.” Head buried in the fridge, Coop missed the surprised look on Beau’s face.
Nicknames seemed like a friends thing. Were they friends? Maybe Coop just really didn’t like the er at the end of his name? Maybe he was against multisyllable names on principle?
Maybe Beau was losing his mind…
Coop pulled out a container that turned out to have lasagna leftovers in it, and Beau nearly teared up.
“I love lasagna,” he murmured, staring at the dish as Coop plated a large piece and put it in the microwave.
“Good to know.” Coop rewrapped the leftovers and put them away. When he turned back to Beau, he stopped, eyes darting over his face. “What’s wrong?”
Beau shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I just… haven’t had it in a while. I’m excited.”