Good Girl Complex: a heartwarming modern romance from the TikTok sensation

by Elle Kennedy

  I was half asleep until I met him.

  “I thought I was happy,” I tell him, gliding my fingers up and down his ribs. “For a long time. What was there to complain about, right? I’d been given everything I could ever ask for—except purpose. A choice. The potential to fail, to get hurt. To ever love something so much the thought of losing it tears me open. Tonight, when I thought you and I might really be over, all sorts of things ran through my head. I was making myself crazy.”

  Cooper tilts my chin toward him and presses his lips to mine with the lightest touch. Enough to make me seek him out for another taste.

  His breath is a warm whisper against my lips. “I might just be falling in love with you, Cabot.”

  My heart jumps. “Uh-oh.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He drags his fingers down my spine, setting every nerve alight. I bite his bottom lip, tug a little, in our wordless language that says I need him. Now. Take this ache away. But he’s methodically, frustratingly patient in removing my tank top before he palms one breast while licking at the other. He pushes his boxers down. I wiggle out of my underwear as he puts on a condom. A shiver of anticipation skitters through me when he drags the hot length of him over my core.

  He holds me tight as he moves inside me. Unhurried. Slow, languid strokes. I cling to him, muffling my moans against his shoulder.

  “I love you too,” I say, shaking in his arms while I come.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  COOPER

  A few days after filing charges against Shelley, I receive a call to come to the police station. On the phone with the sheriff, I learn that the cops picked her up in Louisiana, where she must have forgotten about all the unpaid parking tickets she’d left behind after her “fella” kicked her to the curb. When the South Carolina warrant popped up, the sheriff in Baton Rouge had her transferred back up to the Bay.

  Mac and my brother come to the station with me, but I make Evan wait outside while we go in to speak to Sheriff Nixon. Evan was equally furious to learn that Shelley robbed me blind, but I know my brother—he’ll always have a soft spot for that woman. And right now I need to keep a clear head, not allow anything to cloud my judgment.

  “Cooper, have a seat.” Sheriff Nixon shakes my hand, then settles behind his desk and gets right down to business. “Your mother had about ten grand in cash on her when the Baton Rouge boys brought her in.”

  Relief slams into me like a gust of wind. Ten grand. It’s a couple thousand short of what she stole, but it’s better than nothing. Hell, it’s more than I expected. She was gone four days. Shelley is more than capable of blowing twelve grand in that amount of time.

  “However, it could be a while before you get the money back,” Nixon adds.

  I frown at him. “Why’s that?”

  He starts rambling on about evidence procedures and what not, as my brain tries to keep up with all the information he’s spitting out. First things first, Shelley will be arraigned in front of a judge. Mac asks a lot of questions because I’m kind of in a stupor about the whole thing now. All I keep thinking about is Shelley in an orange jumpsuit, her wrists shackled. I despise everything that woman’s ever done to us, but the thought of her behind bars doesn’t sit right. What kind of son sends his own mother to jail?

  “She’s here now?” I ask Nixon.

  “In holding, yes.” He rubs a hand over his thick mustache, looking every inch the part of a small-town sheriff. He’s new to town, so I doubt he knows much about me and my family. His predecessor, Sheriff Stone, hated our guts. Spent his afternoons tailing Evan and me around the Bay all summer, looking for a reason to glare at us from his unmarked cruiser.

  “What would happen if I changed my mind?”

  Beside me, Mac looks startled.

  “You want to withdraw the charges?” he says, eyeing me closely.

  I hesitate. “Will I get my money back today?”

  “There’d be no reason to hold it in evidence. So, yes.”

  Which is all I wanted in the first place.

  “What would happen to her after that?”

  “It’s your prerogative as the victim. If you’re not interested in prosecuting, she’ll be released. Mrs. Hartley was only held in Louisiana at the request of this department. Whatever fines she faces there are a separate matter. We aren’t aware of another warrant for her at this time.”

  I glance at Mac, knowing it isn’t a decision she would make for me one way or the other, but wanting the confirmation that I’m doing the right thing. I guess in this situation, it’s all degrees of shitty either way.

  She studies my face, then offers a slight nod. “Do what you feel is right,” she murmurs.

  I shift my gaze back to the sheriff. “Yeah, I want to drop the charges. Let’s get this over with.”

  It still takes about an hour to sign the paperwork and wait around for an officer to appear with a plastic bag of my cash. He counts out every bill, then has me sign some more papers. Another huge wave of relief hits me when I hand Mac the cash to stuff in her purse. The very next thing I’m doing is sucking it up and depositing the money in the bank, the taxman be damned.

  Outside, Evan’s waiting for us by the truck. “All good?” he says.

  I nod. “All good.”

  We’re about to leave when Shelley walks out of the building rubbing her wrists.

  Shit.

  She lights up a cigarette. As she exhales, her gaze lands on us, catching our attempted escape.

  “I’ll get rid of her,” Mac offers, squeezing my hand.

  “It’s fine,” I say. “Wait in the truck.”

  In typical Shelley fashion, my mother strides over with a cheerful smile. “Well, what a day, huh? Someone sure screwed up, didn’t they? I don’t know where they got their wires crossed. I told them, I said, call my boys. They’ll tell you I didn’t take anything that didn’t belong to me.”

  “Jesus, give it a rest, would you?” I snap.

  She blinks. “Baby—”

  “No, don’t baby me.” I can’t take another second of her bullshit, her smiley evasions. I’ve been choking on them since I was five, and I’m fucking full. “You found my stash and stole from me, and that’s why you skipped town. Hope it was worth it.” I stare at her. “Mom.”

  “Baby, no.” She reaches for my arm. I take a step back. “I was only borrowing a little to get set up. I was going to send it right back after I got on my feet. You know that. I didn’t think you’d mind, right?”

  Amazed laughter trickles out of my mouth. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t want to hear it anymore. This is the last time we’re gonna do this. I don’t want to see you anymore. Far as I’m concerned, you don’t ever need to come back here. You have no sons, Shelley.”

  She flinches. “Now, Cooper, I get you’re upset, but I’m still your mother. You’re still my boys. You don’t turn your back on family.” She looks at Evan, who has remained silent, lingering behind me. “Right, baby?”

  “Not this time,” he says, gazing off at the passing traffic. Emphatic. Stoic. “I’m with Coop. I think it’s better if you didn’t come around anymore.”

  I fight the urge to throw my arm around my brother. Not here. Not in front of her. But I know the pain he’s feeling. The loneliness. Evan lost his mom today.

  I lost mine a long time ago.

  Shelley makes one last attempt to get us in line until she realizes we aren’t budging. Then the act falls apart. Her smile recedes to flat indifference. Her eyes grow dull and mean. Voice bitter. In the end, she has little in the way of parting words. Barely a glance as she blows smoke in our faces and walks to a waiting cab that carries her off to be someone else’s problem. We’re all better for it.

  Even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.

  Later, as Mac orders us a pizza for dinner, Evan and I take Daisy for a walk. We don’t talk about Shelley. Hell, we don’t talk much at all. We’re in somber spirits. Each of us is lost in our own thoughts, and yet I
know we’re thinking the exact same things.

  When we return to the house, we find Levi on the back deck, sipping a beer. “Hey,” he calls at our approach. “I came by to see how it went at the police station.”

  Evan heads inside to grab two beers for us, while I stand at the railing and fill our uncle in. When I reach the part where Shelley disappeared in a taxi without so much as a goodbye, Levi nods in grim satisfaction.

  “Think she got the message this time?” he asks.

  “Maybe? She looked pretty defeated.”

  “Can’t say I’m sorry for her.” Levi never got along with Shelley, even when she was around. I don’t blame him. The only redeeming quality about either of my parents was giving us a decent uncle.

  “We’re orphans now,” Evan remarks, staring at the waves.

  “Shit, guys, I know this ain’t easy. But you’re not alone in this. If you ever need anything…”

  He trails off. But he doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Levi’s tried his damnedest to make us feel like a family despite all the missing pieces, and he’s done a pretty good job considering what he had to work with.

  “Hey, I know we don’t say it enough,” I tell our uncle, “but we’re only standing here because you were there for us. You always are. If it weren’t for you, we would’ve ended up in the system. Shipped off to foster care. Probably separated.”

  “We love you,” Evan adds, his voice lined with emotion.

  It gets Levi a little choked up. He coughs, his way of covering it up. “You’re good boys,” is his gruff response. He’s not a man of sentiment or many words. Still, we know how he feels about us.

  Maybe we never got the family we deserved, but we ended up with the one we needed.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  MACKENZIE

  He’s being utterly unreasonable.

  “You said you were going to pick up ice on your way home,” I shout from the backyard, where I’m standing with six coolers of warm beer and soda.

  With February came a sudden ferocious winter, so while I’m freezing my butt off out here, the drinks are still hot to the touch because Evan left the cases sitting too close to the firepit. Now he’s taking a load off, and I’m left to wrestle with a folding table that is refusing to budge as I try prying the legs open. These folding tables must’ve been designed by a sadist, because I cannot for the life of me get them open.

  “The freezer at the liquor store was broken,” Cooper responds from the deck. “Heidi said she’s going to swing by Publix on the way here and get some.”

  “But the drinks won’t have time to chill before everyone else arrives. That’s the whole reason I sent you out early!” I’m about to rip my damn hair out. This is the third time I’ve tried explaining this to him, and still it’s like arguing with an ornery sand crab.

  “I would have stopped, but it was out of the way and I wanted to get home to help set up. You’d rather I left you here to do everything by yourself?” he shouts back, throwing his hands up.

  “I was here to help her,” Evan says from his chair. Where he’s been sitting on his ass drinking the last cold beer, instead of helping me set up. “She’s got a point, Coop,” he adds, nodding graciously at me, as if to say See, I’m on your side.

  “Stay out of it,” Cooper tells him.

  I glare at them both.

  There have got to be few worse hells than sharing a birthday one day apart with a couple of barely housetrained twins. Last night, they had this brilliant idea to throw a massive last-minute party instead of the dinner I was planning, so now we’re rushing to put something together, except Evan is lazy and Cooper has all the logistical abilities of a herring.

  “Forget it.” I didn’t even want this stupid party, but they insisted that since it’s my twenty-first, we had to go big. So, of course, I’m stuck doing most of the work. “I’ll go get the food from one end of town, the cake from the other, then double back for ice and try to make it back before dark. Wish me luck.”

  Cooper lets out an exasperated groan. “I’ll call Heidi and ask her to come sooner. Okay? Happy?”

  I kick over the folding table, because fuck it, and rush up the steps toward the sliding door, which is currently being blocked by Cooper. “Don’t bother. For my birthday, all I really want is one less minute of her snide comments and sneering looks. Is that too much to ask?”

  “I’ve talked to her, okay? I can’t control how she acts. Just give it time. She’ll get over it.”

  “You know, I’m not even mad at Heidi. If I’d been led on for an entire summer, I’d be pretty cranky too.”

  “That’s not what happened,” he growls.

  “It’s what she thinks, and that’s all that matters. Maybe that’s the talk you should be having.”

  “Fuck, Mac. Could you get off my case for ten minutes?”

  “Hey dumbass,” Evan yells from the yard. “She’s right.”

  Cooper flips his brother off and follows me into the house as I hurry to grab my purse and find his keys. Not seeing them in the kitchen or living room, I make my way to his bedroom. He trails after me, looking as frazzled as I feel.

  “You know what?” I turn to look at him. “I don’t think this is working anymore.”

  Our bickering is draining. And annoying, because it’s usually about stupid stuff. We dig in and refuse to relent until we exhaust all our energy fighting and forget what started the argument in the first place.

  “What the hell does that mean?” He snatches his keys from his dresser before I can reach for them.

  I grit my teeth, then let out a harried breath. “Crashing here was supposed to be a temporary thing. And seeing as how we’re constantly at each other’s throats, I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome.”

  Like a gust of wind knocks him sideways, Cooper deflates. He places the keys in my upturned hand. When he speaks, his voice is gentle.

  “That’s not what I want. If you’re ready to get your own place, I understand. But don’t think you have to move out for me. I like having you here.”

  “You sure?” I’ve noticed complaints about my invasion of his space have grown exponentially since I shacked up here. “I’d rather you tell me the truth. Not what you think I want to hear.”

  “I swear.”

  His gaze locks with mine. I search his face, and he searches mine, and something passes between us. It’s what always happens. When all our anger and frustration subsides, when the storm passes and I notice him again. The way his tattoos carve along the muscles of his arms. The broad plane of his chest. The way he always smells of shampoo and sawdust.

  Cooper places his hands on my hips. Looking down at me with heavy-lidded eyes, he walks me backward and closes his bedroom door to press me against it.

  “I like having you close,” he says roughly. “Going to bed with you. Waking up to you. Making love to you.”

  His hands capture the hem of my dress and move upward, pulling the fabric up with him until I’m exposed from the waist down. My pulse thrums so fervently in my neck I can feel the frantic little thumps. I’ve been conditioned to him. He touches me and my body squirms in anticipation.

  “I’m not cramping your style?” I tease. My palms splay against the door, fingers digging into the grooves.

  His answer is a dismissive flicking of his eyes. He steps closer until only a sliver of air stands between us. Then, licking his lips, he says, “Tell me to kiss you.”

  My brain doesn’t have a response for that, but everything clenches and my toes grab at the floor.

  He presses his forehead to mine, gripping my ribs. “If we’re done fighting, tell me to kiss you.”

  I hate fighting with him. But this. The making up. Well, it’s the undiluted syrup at the bottom of the chocolate milk. My favorite part.

  “Kiss me,” I whisper.

  His lips brush mine in a featherlight caress. Then he pulls back slightly. “This …” he mutters, his breath tickling my nose.

  He doesn’t fini
sh that sentence. But he doesn’t have to. I know exactly what he means. This.

  Just … this.

  As it turns out, I own at drinking games. In fact, the more I drink, the better I get. I’d never played flip cup before tonight, but after a couple rounds, I couldn’t lose. One challenger after another left slayed at my feet. After that, I destroyed three beer pong opponents, then managed to embarrass the hell out of some dude with neck tattoos at the dartboard. Apparently, once I’ve consumed a bottle of wine, I can’t not hit a bull’s eye.

  Now, I’m standing by the fire, listening to Tate lay out some thought experiment that’s hurting my tipsy brain.

  “Wait. I don’t get it. If there are boats coming to the island, why can’t I get on one and sail home to safety?”

  “Because that’s not the point!” Tate’s blue eyes convey pure exasperation.

  “But I’ve essentially been rescued,” I argue. “So why can’t I get on a boat? I’d way rather do that than pick between Cooper and a bunch of supplies without having access to either boat.”

  “But that’s the actual dilemma! Not how you’re going to get off the island. You have to choose.”

  “I choose the boats!”

  Tate looks like he wants to murder me, which is confusing, because I think the answer to this deserted island thing is stupidly simple.

  “You know what?” He lets out a breath, then grins, his dimples making an appearance. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Mac. Because you suck at thought experiments.”

  “Aww.” I pat his arm. “You’re cute too, Tater-Tot.”

  “I hate you,” he sighs.

  Nah, he doesn’t. It’s taken time, but I think I’ve finally settled into my place in Cooper’s life. No longer the square peg. Not just his life—ours.

  “I’m cold,” I announce.

  “Seriously?” Tate points to the raging bonfire in front of us.

  “Just because there’s a fire doesn’t mean it’s not February,” I say stubbornly.

  I leave him at the firepit and make my way toward the house to get a sweater. Just as I reach the back steps, I catch my name and turn to answer before realizing it’s Heidi talking to someone on the upstairs deck. I tilt my head back. Through the gaps in the slats, I make out Heidi’s blonde head and Alana’s red one, along with the faces of a few other girls I don’t know. I’m about to climb the first step when Heidi’s next words stop me.