Page 95 of Dissonance

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Already knowing this isn’t going to be a casual conversation, I straighten. “Oh, yeah?”

“About you. About this job.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to—”

He holds up a hand. “I’m going to have to let you go.”

The room goes quiet. For a second, I think I’ve misheard. But Cooper’s face doesn’t budge, that uncharacteristically serious frown holding steady as he swallows thickly.

“Right,” I say, exhaling a slow breath.

Then he cracks, barking a laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to see your face.”

“And?”

“Nothing,” he says, waving between us. “You’re a brick wall. It’s actually impressive, if not slightly insulting, considering everything we’ve been through. Thought you’d at least try to fight me on it. But still impressive.”

“Cooper.”

“I know, I know.” He kicks me lightly under the table. “I knew you were going to tell me you couldn’t do it anymore. You had a look when you came in.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re about to ruin my day.” He says it lightly, but the disappointment’s still there, buried beneath understanding. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of trying to tell me.”

“You really are a wee shit, aren’t you?” I tease, my chest tightening, subtle but there. “Not sure how that conversation would have gone, so thanks.”

“Probably awkward. You standing there, all broody, trying to save my feelings.”

Rubbing my beard, I sigh. “You know I don’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

We don’t speak, the house quieter now. Even Ziggy’s laughter’s gone, just the faint creak of floorboards overhead as Declan moves around.

“You’ve been with me, what…ten years?” Cooper asks eventually, leaning back, picking at the table.

“Just over.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head, expression softening as his eyes focus on his mug, twisting it around on the table. “You know you’re not…just my bodyguard, right?”

I nod. “Aye, lad.”

“You’re—” He pauses, nose wrinkling as he tries to find a word he doesn’t hate. “You. In my life. That doesn’t stop just ‘cause you no longer work for me.”

“I know, Cooper.”

He looks at me, nodding to himself before he pushes back his chair and crosses to the kitchen, coming back with a plain envelope. He sets it on the table and slides it across, leaning back with his arms folded, waiting.

“What’s this?” I ask, not touching it.

“Severance.”

I’m already shaking my head. “No.”

“Lockie—”