Last Good Man (A Crown Creek Standalone)

by Theresa Leigh

  "Ribs."

  "Goddammit." I could stand there like an asshole, watching to make sure she didn’t fall. I could turn my back and rely on her stupid stubborn refusal to accept help to propel her into the cabin.

  Or I could dispense with the formal bullshit and override her.

  I chose option C.

  "What the fuck?" She struggled, stiffening and splaying her legs straight out.

  I almost dropped her. “Stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

  "You're hurting me!"

  "Just hold still for like ten steps, I've got you." I leaned over her and tried to feel my way up the steps without looking. Her body was distractingly warm against mine, and I was doubly conscious of how careful I had to be with her.

  But she wasn’t. “I can walk,” she insisted.

  "Hardly,” I scoffed. “There.” I tipped her gently onto the level deck. “Was that so bad?” Then leaned in. "What the, why are you crying?"

  "You don't have to be all weird.” She knuckled away a tear and glared at her fist like she was angry at it. “Look, I know you don't like me, okay?"

  Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Of course I didn’t like her, that instinct was ingrained in me as deeply as the ability to ride a bike. How could I like someone I didn’t trust, and yet… and yet I couldn’t form the words I needed to open my mouth and agree with her. “Yeah, that’s right, but we’re stuck together so quit crying about it,” wouldn’t come no matter how hard I tried.

  Instead something else, something entirely unexpected came out of my mouth. "What makes you think I don't like you?” She blinked at me. I spread my hands. “I’m here aren't I? Doesn't that count for something?"

  She shook her head and turned away. She didn’t believe me. She didn’t trust me. Why should she?

  But I knew, with a sudden violence that made my breath catch, that I had spoken the truth. I did like her. In spite of everything, in spite of myself, I was starting to care deeply for Willa Harlow.

  * * *

  Chapter

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Willa

  It was bigger than the pictures Liam used to show me. Or maybe it was just that I didn’t have the imagination required to come up with a house like this. It would have been easy for me to believe the Mulligans had bought someplace new. But when the motion lights had snapped on, I saw the deep gash hacked deep into the wood by the side of the basement entry.

  “I told him I had no idea how it got there,” Liam had confessed. He’d come over to use the wheezing, ancient laptop he’d lent me freshman year and had just finished sending off a very long email. He snapped it shut and then leaned back, lacing his fingers on top of his head. He’d smirked when he saw me staring at him. “Stop looking at me like that. He’s never going to find out.”

  “Are you sure?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t like it, Liam. Your dad…”

  “I’m already taller than my dad by five inches,” he’d spat. “Beating the crap out of me to turn me into the son he’d always wanted isn’t going to work anymore.” He hissed with such vehemence I had no problem imagining him sinking the ax head deep into the side of his father’s beloved “cabin.”

  And now I was here, seeing that same mark six years later. I wondered why Bill Mulligan had let it stay there this long. A man that fastidious about image, that concerned about putting forth the perfect front at all times shouldn’t have been okay with letting a mark like that go for so long.

  Unless? Unless he’d never noticed it.

  I was making a note to tell Liam since I knew he’d probably take some perverse pride in knowing it was still there, when Cooper butted into my thoughts.

  “Liam never took you here?”

  He hadn’t. I told him that. But he didn’t seem to want to believe me. And every version of the truth - that I was looking at the ax mark - would lead me down a path I couldn’t go. He’d want to know why Liam was angry enough with his father to do something so drastic. Then he’d figure out that in order to do that, Liam would have had to be here without his parents. Which meant I’d have to dance around who he was with.

  The strangest part was, I kept trying to tell Cooper. But no matter what angle I approached it from, I still couldn’t find a way around to tell him without betraying a promise I’d made a long time ago.

  So I kept silent. Which pissed him off even more.

  And as much as I hated doing that, at least then it was over. He went stalking up the steps by the side deck, leaving me behind. Which was fine. I was fine, after all. I didn’t even need to be here with him. This was silly.

  The main entryway was at the end of a long, low staircase made of stone in varying shapes and sizes all fitted together by someone very skilled and very, very expensive. I lifted my foot to take the first step.

  A sharp pain burst bright and hot under my ribcage. A yelp escaped my lips before I could catch it and to my horror, Cooper turned back to me. “You okay?”

  I didn’t want him looking at me. I wanted him angry and giving me the silent treatment. That felt like something I could understand. But this new concern was throwing me. Making me lose my footing - “Shit!” Another bright burst of pain made me stumble.

  “You okay?” Cooper was coming back for me. Dammit.

  “Ribs,” I said brusquely, figuring he’d just nod.

  But he didn’t, he stood there watching, his expression hidden in shadow, so I had no idea what he was thinking. I had no warning that he would come charging forward and lift me off the ground. I only knew that one minute I was picking my way carefully and painfully over the rocks, cursing under my breath, and the next minute he was carrying me like I weighed nothing at all.

  I’d seen his arms as he stood at the side of my hospital bed. But to be in them, to feel like... Like he had me…

  It was too much. Too overwhelming for nerves I hadn’t realized were frayed to the breaking point until I’d already started crying. “Why are you crying?” he scoffed as he set me back down again.

  Being with him was like getting whiplash all over again. One minute he was badgering me, accusing me of lying and storming off, the next minute he was tenderly carrying me to the threshold of the house like that ring on my finger actually meant something.

  It was too much. “Look, I know you don’t like me,” I tried to say. It was almost a plea.

  But instead of taking the bait and agreeing, he did the worst possible thing.

  “What makes you think I don’t like you?”

  And just like that, I was exhausted. Feeling more bruised and battered than I had when I woke up after the accident, I turned on my heel and silently walked to the front door. I stood there, stock still, while Cooper rummaged around under the deck for the spare key, and deliberately turned away from him when he came to open the door and disable the security alarm.

  “Nice place,” he murmured as we walked into the huge open room, but I didn’t answer. I just turned and walked up the floating staircase to the second floor and into the first room I saw, then shut the door behind me.

  A sleigh bed, a bearskin rug, a set of darkened glass doors no doubt leading out onto a private balcony. I took note of all of these things dully. Below me, Cooper rustled around, his footsteps carrying, echoing against the lofted ceiling outside. It was like he was right there in the room with me.

  Quickly, I went over to the bed and pulled back the covers. I moved to take my clothes off, then winced.

  “Shit,” I hissed, remembering that Chrissi the nurse had helped me dress this morning. I couldn’t get out of my clothes without help.

  I climbed into bed fully clothed, expecting the quiet of the mountains to unnerve me.

  I was asleep in seconds.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Cooper

  I never held back.

  Twenty years of friendship, and I never held back. Liam knew everything there was to know about me, because why hide? I had no secrets.

  Liam, apparently, h
ad some secrets.

  The sheer scale of this place was ridiculous. And even my untrained, uncultured eye could see that everything around me was top of the line. When I thought about the tasteful but modest old Victorian on Main Street where I’d eaten so many dinners, it was hard to comprehend that this place belonged to the same family.

  To be able to afford the house on a public servant’s salary, Bill Mulligan had to be on the take. Maybe that’s why he guarded his position as mayor so jealously.

  That realization was like a blow to the head. I’d never put Liam’s gregarious backslapper of a father in the same slimy category as my snake of a Dad. But how else would he have done it? This kind of over-the-top luxury wouldn’t go over well in Crown Creek. No wonder he’d made sure the family retreat was several hours away.

  I stood there in the gleaming, top-of-the-line kitchen and debated calling Liam and demanding some answers. Just how rich are you guys? I imagined asking. And what the hell were you talking about when you said you could never repay Willa?

  My hand was at my pocket, ready to pull my phone out. And I would have if I hadn’t heard the sound of a creaking floorboard upstairs.

  Willa.

  All of my confusion about the Mulligans flew out of my head. Irrelevant, my brain insisted. Completely unworthy of your attention when you’re alone with Willa.

  Alone.

  We had never been somewhere without another set of watchful eyes. Now would be a great time for me to go up there, hash things out. The look she had given me on the porch… I hated how she’d looked at me.

  I heard the creak again. She was upstairs in the bedroom. Probably going to sleep, I reasoned, giving myself an out for why I shouldn’t go up there and apologize. For… something. Making her cry. I’d made her cry before, but for some reason this time really made me feel shitty.

  Yeah, no. She needed to rest. That was the whole reason we were here. She needed to slip into a soft, pretty nightgown with a bit of lace at the hem. Maybe it would hike up a little as she bent to get under the covers. I’d seen her legs plenty of times, but it had never occurred to me how fantastic they were, strong and shapely and still tanned golden even after a week in a hospital bed. The curve of her calf would fit perfectly in my hand, if I knelt down to touch it. I could kneel down right at the edge of her bed and smooth my hands up both legs, parting them a little and then looking up to see her face. She wouldn’t be wearing that pained expression anymore. Her eyes would be shining, and not with tears. They’d be gleaming as she watched what I did next.

  What was I going to do next?

  Pulled like a puppet on a string, I lurched toward the sweeping curved staircase with its carved rails. But when my foot sank into the deep pile carpet on the first step, I came back to myself all at once and stopped, gripping the railing hard.

  “Fuck,” I hissed. Not cool, asshole. She’s alone with you in the woods, and she’s hurting to boot. How’s she gonna feel if you show up all horny at her door? Not cool at all.

  I spun around. With a growl, I flung open doors until I found the cavernous bathroom. We were separated by a whole floor now, but it still wasn’t enough to erase the feel of her body in my arms. Or the kiss that still burned hot against my lips.

  With a groan, I reached into my boxers. I was already so hard that the barest touch had me nearly cumming in my pants like a middle schooler. The creak of the floorboards above me nearly sent me over the edge as I imagined her lifting her shirt over her head, the coil of her curls bouncing as they fell about her naked shoulders. I imagined siding my fingers into those curls, holding her tight as I kissed her until she was breathless and panting, then holding her down with my hand pressed to her belly as I licked her until she screamed my name. How would she sound when she came? Was she one of the silent ones, who shook and vibrated without saying a word? Or did she make noises, little moans and gasps of pleasure that slowly built on each other until her cries became deafening? Just thinking of Willa falling apart, of her carefully guarded shell falling away, of her finally showing me her true self, of her being so helpless with need that she couldn’t hold back…

  I grunted, my fist pumping harder and faster until I came with a sound I didn’t recognize at all. Then I flushed away the evidence and avoided the mirror, unable to look myself in the eye. I found the bedroom that was the furthest away from the one she had chosen.

  Then dreamed about her all night long.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Willa

  My head was pounding.

  I woke into pain and clear light. The bed was the size of the ocean, and I was drowning in it.

  The careful ramp of pillows I had to build around myself to keep my arm propped had caved in sometime in the night, trapping me underneath a layer of down. I felt sticky and gross in my clothes from yesterday and I was so hungry from skipping dinner that my stomach felt hollow.

  I could only pray that it was early enough that Cooper wouldn’t see me like this.

  I’d heard him last night. I woke right up out of a sound sleep when he’d come right to the foot of the stairs and then stopped. I’d braced myself for him to come to my room and try to say… something. Accuse me of something else. Fuck with my mind some more. I’d pulled the covers over my head and feigned sleep.

  And I’d hoped he’d come up.

  But he didn’t.

  I wiggled free of the bed, bracing myself against the pain in my ribs. But they felt… mildly better. For the first time in over a week, I felt like I could take a deep breath. It almost made up for the deep itch that was setting in under my cast.

  I nudged the door open with my toe and it swung silently on its hinges. No telltale squeaks, thank god. I was well versed in walking noiselessly. Living in a single-wide trailer with two other people teaches you how to move silently and also how to sleep through anything. And from the look of the light outside, I’d slept through most of the morning.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that.

  My toes sank into the deep, snow white carpet, further muffling my steps as I crept down the stairs in search of food. I padded on the balls of my bare feet across the wide great room with its high-beamed ceiling. I stared upwards, taking in the way the light slanted down from the skylights.

  I looked back down and my heart stopped. The screech came before I could stop it. “Jesus!”

  “Fuck!” Cooper dropped something—a water glass?—and it hurtled toward the floor. We both shouted as it fell, expecting it to explode into a million shards. But it bounced - it actually bounced - on the carpet, sending a few errant drops out to speckle the bright whiteness, and landed intact. “Holy hell, that was close,” he breathed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with his hand. He glanced at me, his face registering surprise at the fact that I was still in my clothes from yesterday. “You scared the shit out of me. Why are you creeping around like that?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  “I’ve been awake for a while now. I’ve never been much for sleeping in.” He narrowed his eyes. “Also, it’s almost noon.”

  That surprised me. I’d always figured Cooper for someone who lazed in bed most weekends. There was that, and what he was wearing.

  Or rather, wasn’t wearing.

  A pair of faded gray sweats - the warmup pants from the high school football team, I realized with a jolt - hung precariously from his lean hips. And… that was it. The rest of him, from the strangely graceful arch of his feet to the alarmingly broad expanse of his chest, was out. Naked. On display. And gorgeous.

  My mouth went dry and I couldn’t seem to form saliva, then suddenly I was forming way too much and had to swallow quickly before I started drooling. “I’m not either,” I said. I’d spent way too much time staring at him for this to make sense. “For sleeping in, I mean. I don’t know what happened this morning…”

  “You needed to sleep,” he corrected gently. The fact that Cooper Grant was shirtless and speaking gent
ly to me made me breathe so hard my ribs were starting to ache again.

  I blinked and darted past him, charging to the kitchen. That water was going to soak into the padding underneath that gorgeous rug, and how awful would that be? The last thing I wanted was for Liam to think we were so careless. I looked around in vain for paper towels anywhere, and finally gave up and yanked the pretty hand towel off the front of the gleaming oven. I rushed back and made to kneel down to blot at the fading spots.

  “What the hell are you doing?"

  I let the towel fall from my hand. And it surprised the hell out of me that I even did that. I wanted to bend right down and snatch it back up again and pretend the expression on his face wasn't bothering me at all. But I couldn't bend well anymore and he moved way too fast for me to do anything other than glare right back at him. "Nothing," I said. I sounded like a petulant child instead of the strong, capable, thoughtful woman I thought I was being.

  “Jesus,” he hissed, snatching the towel up and blotting half-heartedly at the spill. “You have a broken arm.”

  “I’m fine.” This was not technically true. There were spots swimming up in my vision.

  “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  I stood up straighter and blinked against the spots. “I’m just hungry.”

  “Well.” He stood back up, snapping the towel and settling it across his shoulders, which somehow only emphasized how broad they were. “I was going to run out and deal with this, but then I didn’t want you waking up and thinking I left you here all alone. There’s like… no food.”