The Fall of January Cooper

by Audrey Bell

  He laughed at me. “So, what’s the matter?”

  I pulled another piece of the waffle away on a fork. “I just feel like you don’t realize what a psychopath I am.”

  He nodded. “Oh, no, I get it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I know you’re a real piece of work. We’re coworkers. And I’m sleeping with you. And you’re my girlfriend. I know.”

  “Are you going to fire me?”

  “For what?” he asked. “Being my girlfriend.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” I said.

  “Why would I do that?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, Christian, because, like I said, I’m a total psychopath and I think I’m falling in love with you, which is really fucking weird, and I’m worried that…”

  He grabbed my hand. “You’re in love with me?”

  “I said I think. Maybe. Falling,” I looked at him seriously. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  He chuckled. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  He looked so good. A day of stubble, his eyes dancing playfully with mine, blue eyes, hair uncombed and messy. “You’re in love with me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right, but like I said I’m a total psychopath.”

  He smiled. “Well, that’s good because I fucking worship you.”

  “It’s good that I’m a psychopath? What are you trying to say here?”

  “I love you too.”

  I raised my eyebrows, nodding like that wasn’t the best thing I’d ever heard, like that didn’t make me want to cry like an army wife being surprised by her husband at a grocery store. I ate another piece of my waffle. “This is going to be a really weird relationship,” I told him. “I just think you need to be prepared.”

  He leaned across the table and kissed me hard, before I swallowed the waffle.

  I took a long sip of water. “I think you might be crazy too.”

  “Probably,” he said. He looked at me. He started to laugh. “Yeah, almost definitely. But I definitely love you.”

  I tried not to start crying again. He was really destroying my tough girl credibility.

  Christian

  She fell asleep after she told me she loved me. She pulled her knees to her chin, and leaned against the car door, breathing shallowly.

  She woke up twenty minutes from Cambridge, looking first confused, then disappointed.

  “God, you made good time,” she said. She gnawed on her thumbnail. She stared out the window. “Is this going to work?”

  “What?”

  “This,” she said softly. “You, me.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, your parents…”

  “Love you,” I said.

  She smiled weakly. “I was joking.”

  “They will,” I said resolutely.

  She nodded.

  “Listen, I want to show you something,” I said. We’d been driving too long, I was dying to get out of the car, but I needed her to see it.

  She perked up. “What?”

  “Just, give me a second,” I said. I drove past Cambridge, towards Charleston, where Sam and I first learned to play hockey.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  I didn’t know why I was taking her there. As we got closer to the church, it seemed like a terrible idea. Freaky. Disturbed.

  She saw the steeple, and the black wrought-iron fence across the road, the St. Jude’s Cemetery. It was dark out—I hadn’t thought of that—and I fumbled for a flashlight in the glove compartment.

  “What are we doing?”

  “I want you to see Sam’s grave,” I said. My throat tightened. “I just…”

  She nodded quickly. “Okay.” She opened the door and got out, and wrapped her arms around herself tightly, unprepared for the sharp drop in temperature.

  I threw a sweatshirt from the backseat towards her and took a few uneasy steps on my leg. I’d only come back to see him twice.

  “He, um,” I shrugged. “He’d have liked you.”

  She looked at me. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. He would’ve too. I mean, he might have actually gotten to know her. I never bothered with girls. Hardly bothered with my teammates. Sam was the only person who knew me and he’d been stuck with me my whole life. “He hated playing with me,” I said. I’d never told anyone that. “It was one of the last things he ever said to me.” I blinked.

  January stared at me.

  “I never realized he resented me until that point,” I said. “And then he was dead. It was like…” I exhaled. “I don’t know. A nightmare. It still seems like a nightmare sometimes.”

  I couldn’t remember exactly where he’d been buried. Didn’t know how to navigate the rows and numbers.

  When I finally found it, I almost walked right past it. I didn’t recognize his name as Samuel. “This is it.”

  My mother had brought flowers on Thanksgiving. They had already wilted and browned in the damp cold.

  Loving brother, son and friend

  I stared at it. “When we used to fight when we were little, my mother said we were brothers first. We had nine months together without knowing our parents.”

  She smiled.

  “I wish you could’ve met him.” I was repeating myself now. Trying to explain what a shame it was that he wasn’t here but she already knew that.

  “Me too,” she said softly.

  I took a breath and looked at his grave. I thought of the way he died—so suddenly—how it ended everything for him. It ended part of my life too—the part where I had a brother, the part where I was really good at something.

  Seeing his name made it real. Proof he was here. He existed once. I wasn’t crazy for missing him.

  I held my breath. “Sorry. This is weird.” I scratched the back of my head. “You’ve had a rough…”

  She reached for my hand. “No, no, it’s not weird. Really, please don’t be sorry. I’m…” she seemed flustered. She flushed, unsure of what to say.

  She pressed her lips to the palm of my hand. “He was lucky to have you for a brother.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do,” she said. “He was.”

  So I told her about the argument we’d had about hockey, how I would’ve felt guilty no matter what.

  We didn’t stay long. I felt sadder—but lighter. January shivered. She’d have stayed there longer. As long as I wanted. No matter how cold she got. She cared about me.

  In the car I took a long breath. “I just. I don’t want you to worry. Nothing’s going to change just because we’re back. I’ve always…wanted to be with you.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it.”

  She smiled. “Me too.”

  “Me too?” I repeated, grinning. I couldn’t help it.

  “What? I already said I loved you and I was a psycho and watch out, so like, obviously, I want you to stick around.”

  I nodded, kissed her quickly. “Good.”

  “We’re really weird.”

  “I know.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Just making sure.”

  Epilogue

  January

  “I hate this,” Christian said.

  “Okay, it’s not for you,” I said. “That doesn’t mean it’s not for anyone else.”

  “You cannot give this to anyone else ever,” he said.

  I looked at him. “Okay, thanks for your input. You can stop talking now.”

  “That’s not an input. That is a fact.”

  “Pipe down, alright?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Try this,” I said, unhappily to Darrin.

  “Don’t,” Christian said.

  “Try it,” I repeated.

  Darrin looked at Christian, who shook his head. “Don’t do it, man.”

  “It tastes like pizza.”

  “That is a lie.”

  “Would you please try it?” I said.
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  Darrin took a sip and screwed up his face. He swallowed with a grimace and looked at me. “It’s not bad,” he choked out.

  “You’re such a liar. It’s terrible,” Christian said.

  “I need to tweak it.”

  “You try it,” Christian said to me.

  “No, that’s okay,” I said. “I trust you.”

  “Then why did you have me try it?” Darrin demanded.

  “You just said you liked it.”

  “I lied.”

  Christian grinned. “I liked the ginger thing. That was good.”

  “Moscow mule,” I said. “Can’t take credit for it.”

  “I need to get that taste out of my mouth,” Darrin muttered, while Christian chuckled.

  “Why wouldn’t you trust me?” Christian asked him.

  “I don’t know,” Darrin replied mutinously, stomping off to the backroom.

  Christian looked at me. “That was really terrible.”

  “You’ve made your point.”

  He chuckled. “So, how’s Katelyn?”

  “Charming as ever.”

  “Mm,” he said. “Well, my apartment’s fixed. I’m gonna move back in this weekend. I’ll give you a copy of the key if you want.”

  He said it casually, bending down to reach for a bottle of vodka.

  “Are you serious?”

  He shrugged. “You know I like having you around.”

  I shrugged and nodded. “What if I go through all your stuff?”

  He laughed.

  “Just saying. You could have some embarrassing stuff,” I said, thinking of how many times I’d scrawled his name in the margins of The Sun Also Rises while my professor droned on about depressing war stories and Katelyn chewed her gum audibly.

  “Well,” he said. “Knowing you, you’ll find it anyways.”

  “I am very resourceful.”

  “You want the key or not?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take the key,” I said, nodding casually.

  He laughed too, at my own practiced nonchalance. We’d been back from Texas for two weeks. Things had changed. They’d shifted. People had backed off a little bit. Maybe because I’d turned my parents in; maybe because interest had finally waned. Maybe I had just grown immune to it.

  I thought, briefly, I might be in shock when I got back. But, it had less to do with my parents, and more to do with Christian.

  I was happy. I could talk to him. I could tell him I thought Katelyn was an animal, and he’d know what I meant and he’d laugh or agree. I didn’t have to pretend.

  And he could tell me about Vanessa. He could tell me how terrifying she could be, even now that she was sober. He knew I’d never resent him for needing to be there for her. And he had begun to stop blaming himself for her decisions. And she was getting better. Slowly, she was getting better.

  I glanced over at him, caught him staring. “You look awfully pleased with yourself,” I said.

  “Yeah, I think I did a nice job,” he said. He rubbed his wrist, where he’d tattooed Sam’s name, and smiled. He looked me up and down. “Yup.”

  I rolled my eyes and he grabbed my chin to kiss me.

  Darrin banged the door and scowled. “You know, I liked it a lot better when January hated you and you were afraid of her.”

  Christian smiled. “I don’t remember that, Darrin.”

  “Yeah, well, this is harassment. Or something.”

  Christian grinned at me over Darrin’s head. I smiled, waiting for the door to open, and for the first customer to come in, and knowing I’d be okay.

  Acknowledgements

  This book simply would not be possible without Autumn Hull, my wonderful beta and tireless publicist, and everyone at Wordsmith Publicity.

  I am especially grateful to all of the bloggers who have reviewed my books in the past and continue to support them today. Kristin Godfrey of Kris Kritiques and Kimberly Brower of Book Reader Chronicles have been especially supportive and I’m so pleased to count them as readers!

  After I released Love Show, I thought about not writing a book again. But then I got an email from Tammara Webber, who was the author of Easy, one of my favorite books. She made me believe I should keep writing. Thank you so much, Tammara!

  Finally, thank you to all of the readers! This is for you!