Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) (4 page)

Sooner or later this would have to get easier.

Right?

Chapter Four

Caylee

The heavenly scent of bacon cooking wafted into my room, waking me from a nightmare I was grateful to escape.

My heart thudded heavily in my chest. Damn. My textbooks spoke about how our minds processed things during sleep and they weren’t kidding if the monster Cooper had turned into was any representation.

Not that I believed he was one, but after spending hours talking with Rebecca and helping her understand how the intention of her gift had backfired, it was no wonder I spent the majority of my night confronting an aggressive two-headed Cooper in my dreams.

Volatile hostility had rolled off him in waves as he screamed and gnashed his teeth, his snapping jaws threatening to eat me whole.

Meanwhile, piles of superhero socks burned in a blazing fire pit between us.

Brushing damp hair away from my face, it took a second to focus and relinquish the already fading images back into my subconscious.

That wasn’t who Cooper was.

It was merely how I saw his PTSD—the disorder that flared whenever it felt like rendering him a prisoner in that moment to its demands. I knew I couldn’t begin to understand what it felt like for him or how out of control I assumed it left him.

That was the frustrating part—all I had was assumptions paired with the research I’d done in preparation for when Owen came home. It was something us military wives whispered to each other as we braced ourselves for the uncertainty we faced when our husbands returned from deployment.

Some did just fine and were able to adapt back into civilian life with grace and smiles. Sure, there were adjustments to be made and the occasional slip, but for the most part, we prayed for the best and celebrated when our spouses didn’t become a statistic.

Our unofficial mantra was it wouldn’t happen to us. We were strong enough to beat it. Our soldiers were resilient. They faced horrors we couldn’t even imagine and coming home was a piece of cake. Where they stumbled or found themselves lacking, we made up the difference.

Like a well-oiled machine, we would not let our loved ones falter or fall by the wayside. We wouldn’t let them become another casualty to a war that already cost way too much.

Checks and balances. We would stand guard and not let them suffer in silence.

Unfortunately, even the most vigilant came up empty sometimes and no amount of prayer could save those who lost their way.

I’d lost my Owen. Not to the erosiveness of dealing with trauma but to a twisted game of chance and circumstance. While I’d slowly accepted that these were the cards dealt us, I refused to lose another person to such cruelty.

Yes, Cooper had flipped out over something last night and shown that side of himself that was blistered and savage, but it wasn’t who he was.

It was simply the result of something that had happened to him.

I knew it.

After leaving Rebecca earlier as she continued reading about PTSD and it’s triggers online, she believed it, too.

We all saw the real Cooper—the one who hated that side of himself—and accepted him . . . flaws and all.

I just hoped, after giving him the space he asked for last night outside the bar, that he could also see we would never abandon him.

He was ours and we were his—through thick and thin. We would always keep fighting. He wasn’t alone and I would beat that into that stubborn head of his if I had to.

My stomach rumbled in response to the unrelenting delicious smell of breakfast. There was a brief scratching at the door as I stood and stretched. A cute brown nose poked through the crack.

Lola.

Wait. Lola was here?

Crouching, I opened my arms, welcoming the warm softness of Cooper’s beloved dog beneath my fingers as I snuggled with her. “Hey there, girl. Did you bring our boy to come visit?”

I kissed the top of her head and laughed when her ears flickered in response. She caught me by surprise with a lick of her tongue.

Puppy kisses were wonderful first thing in the morning, but they paled in comparison to Cooper’s. If she was here, it meant he was as well.

Bacon . . . Lola . . . maybe he was the reason my mouth was watering like crazy.

Padding out of my room with a happy chocolate Lab following by my heels. My smile was instant when I found him in the kitchen, his back to me as he worked at the stove.

“I might need you to go wake everyone up, Lola. Don’t want our apology going cold, right?” While his voice didn’t hold the same emptiness as last night, Cooper didn’t quite sound like himself either. That and the way his muscles bunched tightly under his shirt gave away his hesitation.

He was nervous.

If I knew him like I thought I did, and I did, he’d probably spent the evening agonizing over how he would face us all.

Yet another reason why I almost crumbled and called him when I couldn’t stop the nagging urge he needed reassuring. It had been practically torture not giving in to temptation and ignoring his plea for space. It killed me thinking of him tossing and turning, going over and over in his mind how he’d overreacted. It wasn’t in my nature to withhold my comfort.

It had been Marty who exacted a promise to leave him be. It was in his best friend that I trusted, resisting my own needs to somehow make things right.

“He needs to do this himself, Caylee. Regardless of how badly we want to help. If he can’t learn how to control this, he will doubt himself.”

“Even if he’s suffering needlessly?”
I’d asked, tears in my eyes. My fingers had itched to type out a text—anything to let him know I would drop everything and rush to his side.

“He’s okay. I think he’s more embarrassed than anything right now. This isn’t the time to step in.”
The earnest look in Marty’s eyes had told me he was right. He’d known Cooper the longest. Their friendship was solid.

Accepting that the best way to help Cooper was to go home had been unbelievably hard. The truth usually was.

Treading a little louder than normal, letting him know it was me, I went to him. He didn’t flinch when I wrapped my arms around his waist and rest my head against his back.

“Morning.”

His fingers squeezed mine at his chest. “Morning, sweetheart.”

We stood there for what seemed like forever, not speaking—inhaling and exhaling together. Sometimes words weren’t needed to bridge the gap we thought existed between people. Sometimes everything that needed to be said could be expressed through matching heartbeats—the quiet thudding of forgiveness.

“Sleep well?” I finally asked, relishing in the warmth from his body. I already knew the answer, but it was a way to get him talking, to let him know everything was okay between us.

“Like shit. You?” Cooper answered with a snort.

“Once I fell asleep.” I ventured, not willing to disclose that the events of last night had ended in a nightmare. “This smells so good. A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.”

“As opposed to . . .” He let his sentence hang in the air.

“Having to eat cold cereal.” I kissed his back, wishing he were shirtless so my lips could brush against his bare skin. I’d missed him in my bed last night—the plans I’d made had been cast aside for something greater. That didn’t mean they were forgotten, however. By the end of today . . . by breakfast . . . I would be showing him exactly how his birthday celebration should’ve gone.

He still had a gift to unwrap—me.

Stepping around him, I lifted myself up onto the cleared counter beside the stove where he would be close enough to touch if I wanted to, but not get splattered by sputtering grease. “So . . .” I began, drawing out my thoughts.

“So,” he added. Then he smiled and peered up at me through the hair hanging over his eyes. Something within me uncoiled. This was a good sign . . . a very good sign.

Stealing a piece of bacon, I broke it into two pieces—one for me, and the other for Lola, who now lay at Cooper’s feet. It was hard not to moan as the flavor burst against my tongue.

Lola did the same, snapping up the dropped bacon quickly before licking her lips and looking up for more.

“Shall we address the elephant in the room?” I prodded, my feet gently banging against the cupboard door. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

Out of everything that happened—his telling me to walk away and never look back was the one thing that burned a hole in my mind. I could handle anything, whatever he threw my way, so long as I knew he wouldn’t keep giving up on me—on us.

“I said a lot. Care to refresh my memory?” He didn’t once glance up, opting to act like he had outside the bar. I understood why he’d refused to look at me then . . . just not now.

“Look at me, Cooper.” It was more of a command than a suggestion. I hadn’t meant it to come out that way, but if we were going to get through this, I needed him to stop avoiding eye contact. Only by gazing into my eyes, seeing how much I cared for him could he silence whatever doubts were lurking inside his head.

For a second I thought he would fight me and stubbornly refuse to let go of his pride or whatever held him back. But he was here, cooking for us. He’d made the decision to come to our home and offer an olive branch.

It had to mean something.

Placing the tongs down on the other counter, Cooper finally faced me, revealing the remorse in his own features. He was crucifying himself, even now.

“Do you really want me to walk away? Leave you? Forget about this incredible thing between us?” I didn’t sugar coat it or ease into the conversation. If he still felt the same way as he did when he threw that demand at me, I had to know.

Emotion bubbled out of him. His eyes widened in fear. “Oh, god no.”

The room seemed in implode on itself. That’s all I needed to hear. Hopping down off my perch, I opened my arms and he stepped into my embrace. He buried his face into my shoulder.

“I am so sorry, Caylee.”

I felt him breathe me in and give a tremor. He wasn’t the only one—I couldn’t seem to hold him tight enough. With that one admission, we would survive his angry outburst and file it away under what it truly was—a way for him to protect his heart and mine.

His foolish belief that somehow the world would be better off without him.

“Don’t ever say that again unless you mean it, Cooper. It hurt watching you so willing to cast us aside.” I gripped at the front of his shirt, needing him to feel how twisted in knots this had made me.

Cooper lifted his head and tenderly held my face. His gaze bore into mine. Sincerity filled his features—a need for me to believe him. “I know, babe, I know. If it helps, the moment it came out, I wanted to take it back. It was a horrible lie, one I didn’t mean, but I didn’t know how to stop.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me. I’m tougher than you think. I know what it’s like being in a relationship with a Marine—actively serving or not. Give me some credit, okay? Don’t assume I’m so easily scared away or that the only solution is to run.” A tear escaped when I blinked, followed closely by another.

“The last thing I ever wanted was to make you cry. I told myself that if it looked like I was about to self-destruct, I needed to get you as far away as possible to escape the fall out.”

I couldn’t listen to another word without interrupting. I wouldn’t let him continue with this kind of thinking. “You weren’t self-destructing, Cooper. You were having moment, but we
all
have them. They aren’t exclusive just to you. You’re not the only one who comes to this relationship with baggage and the need of understanding when things get rough.”

“I know, but—”

I refused to let him interject. “But nothing. Tell me . . . if that were me last night, would you have thrown your hands up in the air and said you were done?” When he went to argue, I stood my ground. “Answer honestly.”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly. So why would you expect me to act any differently?”

The last thing I expected him to do was laugh. “You know what? You’re pretty amazing, Caylee Sawyer. What the hell did I do to deserve you?”

There was sincerity to his question that made it impossible for my heart not to ache for him. I’d known he was complicated from that first time we spoke in the diner. I just hadn’t been prepared for the self-deprecating way he viewed himself.

It made me even more determined to let him see that not everyone saw him in the same light. He would see his worth—even if it had to be through my eyes.

“You’re yourself. That’s all I ask. That’s all any of us can do. So next time you get it into that thick skull of yours that you need to push me away, get over yourself. Deal?” I stuck my hand out and waited for him to respond. “Consider this non-negotiable, Cooper.”

“Who am I to argue?” he exhaled, conceding as he, not only shook, but also kissed the back of my hand.

“Good. Things will go a lot smoother when you accept the fact that I’m always right.” There was no keeping the cocky grin off my face. This battle was over—the victory ours.

Cooper gently brushed his thumb over my cheek, his eyes once again filling with unspoken emotion. There were times were I wished he’d give them voice and let me know what was going on in that heart of his, but not this morning.