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“I was thinking,” Cooper said as we walked through the barn, “the staff might work better together if we did some kind of team-building event.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Maybe a night of bowling in the city?”

“Cool.”

“Or maybe a roping competition.”

“Sure.”

“But really,” he continued, his tone turning sly, “I was thinking we all dress up as clowns and go skydiving while blasting ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on repeat.”

“Sounds fun.”

His hand shot out, stopping me mid-step.

I looked up to see Cooper staring at me, his expression blank—except for the slow, incredulous blink.

“What?”

“You hate ‘Eye of the Tiger,’” he said, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“Do whatever you want,” I muttered, waving him off as I tried to keep walking.

He stopped me again. I spun to face him, my expression flat, my affect blunt.

“This right here,” Cooper said, crossing his arms as he scrutinized my slumped posture. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but it sure as hell isn’t me. Get a grip.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I mirrored his stance, arms crossing over my chest.

I was fine.

Fucking peachy.

None of this had anything to do with the insufferable woman I couldn’t get out of my goddamn head. My thoughts weren’t consumed by her laugh, her body, or those big, dark eyes that saw right through me.

Not at all.

“Colt, seriously?” Cooper tilted his head, watching me like he was calling my bluff. “This is a whole new level for you. Not giving a shit? A few months ago, you’d be roasting me nonstop for even suggesting team building.”

“Well, it ain’t a few months ago,” I muttered. “And I don’t give a fuck what you do as long as you leave me out of it.”

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Cooper grumbled.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Not the first or last time I’ll hear that one.”

It had been weeks since Eleanor left, and to say I’d retreated into myself was an understatement. I had shut down completely, my bitterness running ten times deeper than before.

When she left that morning, slipping out of bed without a word, I thought I’d shake it off in a few days. I stuck to the plan—erased every trace of her, starting with the damn truck. But here I was, still unable to function, still feeling like half a man.

Not that I was about to share that with anyone.

At some point, it would all go away.

The ache. The emptiness. The weight in my chest.

All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and power through.