The Devil Inside

5: Happy Death Day, Dad

Cooper stood outside of his apartment, his backpack in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other.

Calla took the news pretty well, he thought, trying to cheer himself up. Her blank expression as he'd explained the situation with Tom had been downright tame, at least compared to some of her more...violent outbursts.

He shuddered.

"Coop?" a voice called from inside the apartment. "Is that you, honey bee?"

Cooper sighed and opened the door. "Yes."

"You're late," Amelia Daniels scolded from the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her middle. Her blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, a habit she'd gotten into ever since she'd cut it short earlier in the year. It made her look even younger than usual.

Cooper tried not to take her downturned mouth to heart. His mom wasn't the type to scold, or to grimace, or to shout. But there were exceptions to every rule.

And this day was an exception.

"Sorry," he muttered, setting the groceries on the kitchen counter and ambling off to his room. "I'm gonna hop in the shower."

She huffed, mumbling about dinner preparations as he shut himself in his room. He braced his back against the door and blew out a breath. He felt anxious and unsettled. And his mom's mood certainly wasn't making him feel better.

Tom Sahein knows nothing, Calla had insisted back at the mansion. Nothing worth a damn, anyway, or else he wouldn't be pestering you.

Her words brought him some small comfort. She was right. Of course she was right. Tom Sahein was just a kid with a camera and a nose for trouble. Nothing more...

Famous last words, Coop.

Pulling off his hoodie, he slipped across the hall and into the bathroom, stepping lightly to avoid drawing his mom's ire. His heart ached for her—it really did—but he had enough on his plate to worry about. He didn't want to add grounded for breathing too hard to his list of woes.

Cooper stood under the scalding water for a time, determined to find some semblance of peace, however brief. But it was useless. When he could stand the hot water no longer, he crept back across the hall. He'd just started sorting through his hamper when a familiar ping from the computer on his desk made him flinch.

"Cooper Cornelius Daniels." His mom's strained voice floated from the kitchen. "If you're playing that game of yours right now—"

"I'm not," he called back, rushing over to his computer. He cursed under his breath, pulling up the chatroom he shared with close to twenty other online gamers.

An unread message from Ryan Kane blinked out at him: You online?

Cooper quickly explained the situation—which essentially amounted to "my mom will kill me if I hop on right now"—and silenced his notifications, closing the computer for good measure.

Ryan would understand. He'd always been a pretty chill guy...maybe a little too chill, all things considered. After all, Cooper had basically accused the guy of murder, and they'd still somehow managed to maintain a steady friendship over the last year and a half.

I'll have to drop by the grill and see him soon, Cooper mused, thinking of the overcrowded sports bar Ryan now managed over in the city. He'd been there only a handful of times in the last year, but Ryan always made a point to comp his meal.

Bracing himself, Cooper emerged from his bedroom. His mom had already set the table. Cooper wordlessly joined her in the kitchen and began washing the dishes she'd left in her wake. She shot him a weary smile, piling their plates with food.