Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) (32 page)

“I’m so glad you came,” Joshua said, locking eyes with me across the coffee table. “Because I’ve waited a long time to say this, Cooper. But son.” He used that term of endearment again and it made my chest tighten, “there was never anything to forgive. Nothing. I know you’ve felt you needed to make some kind of grand gesture or somehow make up for losing Owen, but that was never your responsibility. Ever. You can put that burden down now. There is nothing to apologize for.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur—much like a family reunion. The air filled with the sounds of shared memories, laughter, and tears. We each promised to remain in touch.

I had one last stop to make tomorrow before heading home.

Then I would be finally free.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cooper

Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I navigated my way through the cemetery, weaving between neatly arranged rows with headstones and markers decorated with an assortment of flowers.

I’d still been in Germany recovering from surgery when Owen had been buried. My absence had felt like a stab in the heart. No amount of pleading with the doctors had helped my cause. My injuries had made it difficult to transport me home.

Sometimes I thought that was the fatal blow that destroyed my peace of mind—fracturing me into pieces I was only now fitting back together.

Not the bullets that tore through muscle and flesh.

Not holding my dying friend in my arms as he bled out on that street.

It was my inability to make it home and honor his memory—to show my respect to one of the greatest people I’d ever known.

But such was life. It didn’t always go according to plan and at least I could be here now.

Better late than never.

Following Marie’s carefully written directions, I made my way to Owen’s headstone. My steps faltered.

Fuck, I was already losing it.

As each second passed, a shroud of reverence enveloped me, not the guilt I’d worn so proudly before like it was some consolation prize for surviving the unthinkable. This trip was definitely nothing like I’d thought and I almost laughed out loud at how monstrous I’d built it up in my head.

I’d pushed off this visit—days becoming weeks, which turned into months, then years. All that fearful anticipation had melted away the instant Marie had opened the door. If they didn’t condemn me—fully justified in acting as my judge and executioner—there was little chance the ghost of my friend would either.

But it was him I’d come to face . . . the final piece in restoring my soul.

His grave was well maintained, lovingly tended to with lilies blooming on each side of the marker. It was a beautifully crafted black granite headstone with his name and life dates etched into the surface.

My eyes caught on the dash between his birth and death dates. It always struck me how someone’s entire existence was represented by a small stroke, the in-between. It seemed insufficient . . . inadequate . . . a mockery of the greatness he’d achieved. While Owen had still been young and in his twenties, he’d worked and played hard—giving everything he had in the pursuit of happiness and the things he believed in.

A dash.

It wasn’t enough.

But then again, was there even a word or symbol that could fully encompass everything he was?

Son.

Husband.

Friend.

Brother.

Marine.

Family.

In a short span of time—a mere blip in eternity—he’d accomplished what many only hoped for. Owen had been loved and had loved fiercely.

“Hey,” I ventured, feeling slightly awkward at speaking to his grave. I tried not to overthink it. I tried not to imagine his lifeless body in the ground. Instead, I pictured him in my mind, beside me.

I just couldn’t see him.

Crouching down, I picked a few dead leaves that had fallen from the nearby trees and ended up cluttered at the base of the granite stone. He always did like a neat and tidy bunk—meticulously keeping his belongings in order, even when there wasn’t an inspection scheduled.

It was who he was and something told me he’d appreciate the sentiment.

“Sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” I continued. The fact I kept apologizing to people wasn’t lost on me. It didn’t leave me feeling guilty either. It was what it was.

A gentle breeze blew, causing the leaves on the plants to bob up and down. Almost like Owen knew I was there. Goosebumps flared across my skin.

Now that I was here, however, I didn’t know what else to say other than sorry. All the mental conversations I’d held with him over the past few months didn’t seem relevant anymore. Without the blame and denial, the only thing that remained was grief. I missed my friend.

That was the best place to start.

“Remember that time when you swore you could make BBQ ribs like your mom made and we all made bets on whether it would taste like shit or if you’d pull it off?” There were days I could almost taste the end result, my stomach rumbling over the phantom memory as if it too was waiting for a repeat of the perfection he’d created. “You never did tell us how you did it. We couldn’t tell whether you’d received a care package from home with the sauce or you’d somehow managed to mix the right kind of spices, but damned what I wouldn’t give for another plateful, Owen. I would do it all again just to be able to talk to you face-to-face. Laugh like we used to . . . even as the world around us exploded in violence. You kept me sane during those first few months and I just hope I did the same for you. Deployments were bearable together.” Standing so I took the pressure off my leg, the muscle throbbing with pain, I pushed the distraction aside. “It’s not the same without you. This wasn’t how it was meant to end.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to pull up his image in my mind, how he’d looked in his dress uniform, all pressed and starched. That was how I chose to remember him—in all his finery—and, by the grace of God, it stuck.

I didn’t think I’d make it if that picture unraveled, leaving behind the very last thing I saw before passing out. There was only so much horror I could take and there was no way in hell I wanted to desecrate his memorial.

His grave needed to remain pure and undefiled.

It struck me how, for the first time, I didn’t include myself in that. Shit, I had definitely come a long way—further than I ever dared hope for.

Caylee’s face flittered before me and instantly my body responded. Not in arousal, but in that deep ache that came from her absence. Coughing, I dragged in cool air, expanding my lungs until I couldn’t inhale further, then my confession came out in one long extended sentence.

“I love her, Owen. God, I tried not to, but it was a fight I was never meant to win. You know her. You loved her, too. I think that’s what I’m most sorry for. I should’ve protected her . . . cherished her like you would’ve. Instead, I screwed everything up and I’m so fucking sorry. There’s only ever been two instances where I wished I could rewind time and fix things . . . you dying in that damned street and me hurting Caylee. She was the best thing in my life . . . my saving grace.” I brushed away the tears that fell unabashedly to my chin before dropping to my shirt. “She’s the thing we fought for . . . the reason why we woke up each morning . . . the goodness in the world we desperately tried to preserve. I thought I could pretend, that I could hide those parts of myself from her, but it was all a lie. I was destruction . . . I can see that now. It would always end this way because I didn’t give us a chance.” The truthfulness I uttered danced around me like the songs I sang with the band—each word resonating deeper and deeper. “Pushing her away was the biggest fucking mistake of my life, Owen. And the selfish bastard that I am, I half wish you could somehow tell me how to fix it.”

I stood there, eyes closed, and reached outward. If there was ever a time for a miracle, this was it. I was vulnerable and bare. I couldn’t strip myself down any further than this precise moment.

My heart began racing at the distant sound of footsteps, but I was alone with a ghost of the past. Even my newfound relationship with God couldn’t produce the one thing I wanted most in the world.

“I need her. I know she doesn’t need someone like me, but for a brief moment, things were really good . . . blissfully good. She helped me feel less like a thief for stealing her away and more like the man I’d once believed I could be.”

A twig snapped behind me and I held my breath.

“Owen?” I asked, terrified to turn around in case it wasn’t him. The disappointment would be crushing.

A hand slipped into mine—a familiar one. I’d know her touch anywhere.

“I need you, too, Cooper. I’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.”

She was here. My god, she was somehow here and still I couldn’t turn to face her in fear she was a mirage.

“Is that really you or have I officially lost my mind?” I whispered, my chest constricting painfully. “Because if I’m imagining this, I don’t think . . .”

She tugged at my hand. “Turn around, Cooper. See for yourself.”

Everything seemed to still, growing silent, as I slowly changed directions, my back now to Owen’s headstone.

Open your eyes
, I chanted inwardly, terrified I was wrong.

Fingers stroked the side of my face, tracing the outline of my jaw. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so unsure. Trust me, sweetheart. Look.”

It was that word—sweetheart—that caused me to banish my fears and obey. It was the word I used with her, one that I knew made her insides melt and pulse quicken. She’d shared that one night after making love, her cheeks flushing a gorgeous pink.

It had been one of the most breathtaking sights I’d ever seen.

“Caylee,” I breathed, stunned. That feeling was immediately followed with confusion. “What? How? What?” I repeated.

It was her—every glorious inch of her. Gone was the hurt that had filled her eyes, the pain I’d put there. She was smiling, practically glowing from the inside as she peered up at me.

She was here. My God, she was here . . . at the graveside of her late husband, cradling my cheek lovingly, tenderly.

“Your mom,” she answered, her gaze never leaving mine. “She called and I came.”

“But why?” I knew how undeserving I was of this gift.

“How could I not, Cooper? After everything we’ve been through, after everything you’ve accomplished the past three months . . . coming here . . . facing the one thing you’ve tried so hard to ignore . . . how could I not come?” Caylee’s fingers traced upward, her nails brushing through my hair. I’d missed her touch.

“So, what you’re saying is I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth?” I countered, cringing a little at my small joke. It didn’t seem fitting considering the occasion, but she didn’t withdraw.

Instead, she laughed, and it was like the heavens opened and angels began singing.

“I don’t know about the horse part but . . .” She lifted up on her toes and moved her mouth until it hovered just over mine. Her breath fanned across my lips. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

My hands gripped her waist, anchoring her to my body. Whether it was to stop her from fleeing or from me toppling over, I didn’t know.

I didn’t care, either.

“Are sure you?” I murmured.

“That I want to kiss you? That I want you to kiss me in return?” I could feel the sexy smirk I loved in her voice.

“What about Owen?” I blurted out, aware that this wasn’t exactly the best place for a reunion.

“I’m sure he approves, Cooper. In fact, I’m positive he does.” She couldn’t have timed the soft breeze that swirled around us any better. Strands of her hair danced about, buoyed by the sudden wind. “Any more questions?”

Caylee was teasing me in that flirty way that drove me crazy, giving me the hope and sign I needed to make my next move. We still had things to discuss and I had plenty of begging to do before I was satisfied I’d proven I could be trusted again, but that all took a backseat to what I truly wanted.

Her.

This.

Cupping her face between my hands, trusting that neither of us would fall, I captured her lips and kissed her like she was the most precious thing in the universe.

And she was.

In my universe, she would always be the melody in my heart. She was the song that inspired me to be better.

Deepening the kiss, my arms lowered until they wrapped around her waist again, and, with a sweeping gesture, I swung her around until we were both a little breathless.

Hell was worth drudging through when this was the homecoming at the end.

“I love you, Caylee Sawyer,” I declared, unable to keep it inside a second longer. “You don’t have to say it back. Not yet. It’s enough that you’re here and that I can hold you . . . touch you . . . feel you.”

She nodded, her lips parting as if she wanted to argue, but thought better of it. I think she realized the wisdom in waiting. Not that she didn’t love me back—at least I hoped she still did and I hadn’t ruined our relationship—but that there was a certain order to things.

That kiss, though.

It screamed of promise and that perhaps I hadn’t completely screwed up.

That even me, with all my flaws and weaknesses, could find redemption.

“What are you thinking?” she finally asked after watching me, waiting for me to speak.

“Honestly?” I answered, knowing she would always want the truth. “I’m ready to go home.”

With one last look to where Owen lay, Caylee nodded. “Me too. Let’s go.”

I’d told myself that there was no such thing as happily ever afters.

I fooled myself into thinking that somehow I could change my fate by pretending everything was normal, that I was untouched by trauma, acting as if I didn’t care that my world crashed and burned around me.