Coop can admit that he'd played a big part in Sylvie's leaving. One of the things he values most above all else, especially now, is honesty, and he hadn't been entirely honest about who he was until he'd asked her to marry him. He hadn't told her because it hadn't been relevant, not really, because he'd stopped the dreamwalking in high school once he'd come to understand just how violating it can be; he'd wanted to succeed as a vet on his own terms rather than rely on magic to heal animals, so he hadn't used that particular set of talents when he'd been studying in school; and he sure as hell hadn't run into anyone who'd tried to use any powers on him so the fact that he can withstand that kind of thing hasn't mattered for as long as Coop can remember.
So he'd kind of just left that part out because it's not like it's a thing that could come up in casual conversation. In Siren Cove, the existence of sirens and witches is a widely known thing. Not everyone knows, a lot of humans are definitely left in the dark or blinded by their own need to put logic to the most obvious hints of the supernatural, but it's enough that Coop had never felt the need to hide. Practice caution, sure, but hide? No. Two years into their relationship, Coop had fallen madly in love with this woman, and he'd wanted to clear that last skeleton from his closet. He'd expected her to be surprised, to be unsure of what to do with the information, to have to prove it to her and maybe even prove that he's not dangerous; but he hadn't expected her to just walk away and that's where the blame comes in. He knows he could have told her soon, maybe even should have, but he would never have just walked away from her, no matter what.
That's why it makes him feel so sick to his stomach that he can't find it in himself to tell her to forget it, that he's changed his mind, that he wants her to get the fuck out of his house because she doesn't belong in this town or in this life, she belongs far, far away from it. He looks at her now, and he doesn't know what to feel. A part of him is desperate to hold onto his resentment, onto the hurt, and the other... The other part just wants to take her in his arms and beg her to never leave him again.
"You made a choice with me, you know. You chose to walk out that door instead of telling me after I told you everything, and I--" He takes a breath, swallowing down nearly half his glass of wine as he tries to remain calm. It won't do any good to snap at her, and he knows he's only reacting with nearly five years' worth of bitterness that he'd been sure he'd gotten rid of already. "Look, I'll listen. I promise, I'll listen, and if it explains why you left then it explains it but I don't need a hundred apologies, okay? I don't want them. If you're going to be here, if you're going to stay, then I need for you to not be apologizing every goddamn time you see me so just start talking. Tell me what the hell happened."
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So he'd kind of just left that part out because it's not like it's a thing that could come up in casual conversation. In Siren Cove, the existence of sirens and witches is a widely known thing. Not everyone knows, a lot of humans are definitely left in the dark or blinded by their own need to put logic to the most obvious hints of the supernatural, but it's enough that Coop had never felt the need to hide. Practice caution, sure, but hide? No. Two years into their relationship, Coop had fallen madly in love with this woman, and he'd wanted to clear that last skeleton from his closet. He'd expected her to be surprised, to be unsure of what to do with the information, to have to prove it to her and maybe even prove that he's not dangerous; but he hadn't expected her to just walk away and that's where the blame comes in. He knows he could have told her soon, maybe even should have, but he would never have just walked away from her, no matter what.
That's why it makes him feel so sick to his stomach that he can't find it in himself to tell her to forget it, that he's changed his mind, that he wants her to get the fuck out of his house because she doesn't belong in this town or in this life, she belongs far, far away from it. He looks at her now, and he doesn't know what to feel. A part of him is desperate to hold onto his resentment, onto the hurt, and the other... The other part just wants to take her in his arms and beg her to never leave him again.
"You made a choice with me, you know. You chose to walk out that door instead of telling me after I told you everything, and I--" He takes a breath, swallowing down nearly half his glass of wine as he tries to remain calm. It won't do any good to snap at her, and he knows he's only reacting with nearly five years' worth of bitterness that he'd been sure he'd gotten rid of already. "Look, I'll listen. I promise, I'll listen, and if it explains why you left then it explains it but I don't need a hundred apologies, okay? I don't want them. If you're going to be here, if you're going to stay, then I need for you to not be apologizing every goddamn time you see me so just start talking. Tell me what the hell happened."