Against All Odds (21 page)

Breathe. In and out, Kylie. You’re okay. I turn around and meet emerald eyes that look distant and cold.

He stares at me a minute and slowly steps into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“No.” I whisper.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Yeah, I’m sick, Cooper. Sick in the heart and head.
“No, I’m okay.”

He stands there looking me over. I must look like shit. I’m dreading this confession, dreading the moment when things will change, but I’m hoping it’ll knock some sense into him.

“You don’t look good,” he says casually, sitting at the dining room table.

I swallow hard. I take another deep breath, trying to prepare myself to drop this bomb on him. “Yeah, we need to talk.”

“About what?” His face is the picture of calm.

The old Cooper would have been touching me, making sure I was okay, but the new Cooper is so distant that he chips another piece off my already broken heart. I wish I could do something to bring back the life that’s been stolen from us. Anything to fill the void that grows between us with every passing minute. But there’s nothing I can do, and I can’t suffer like this anymore. I need something to shock him to life.

“Us.” I exhale and look down.

It’s a struggle to meet his eyes, and with that comment I simply can’t do it. I wince as I think of what I have to say. My body jerks from a rush of panic, causing me to turn to the sink and heave again.

“Kylie, what is going on?” he says, sounding concerned.

I look at him. He’s still sitting. He hasn’t made a single move to come over and see if I’m okay. There’s a huge disconnect between us, and I can’t figure out why. I know we lost our daughter, and I screwed up by not going to the funeral, but something else is eating at Cooper.

“Are you happy?” I stare into his eyes, mine filling with tears. I know the answer. I know he’s not. He’s miserable.

He sighs, looks down, and moves his hands onto the table. I see him hunch over and take a deep breath. He doesn’t answer, and I start to think he’s not going to.

He looks straight at me. “Am I happy? With you? With us? With life?”

“Yeah, with all of them.” I try not to take my eyes off him. I’m strung so tight that everything from my legs to my arms twitch, waiting for a response.

His broad shoulders shake. His mouth’s pulled tight, and his eyebrows are drawn together as he contemplates his next words. I wish I could sit in his lap while he wraps his strong arms around me. I want to soothe his pain by running my fingers over the lines of stress that cover his face.

“I don’t know how I feel, Ky,” he says, his voice pitched low. The vibration of it breaks as if his body doesn’t want him to utter anything about the demons that are buried deep within.

I swallow and debate my next words. I don’t want to start a fight, but I have to figure out what’s going on in his head, no matter how hard it is to hear. “Why won’t you touch me or make love to me?”

He grimaces. I keep my eyes trained on him, trying to read his body language, to grasp at anything to make sense of us.

“Why are you asking me that? What do you want me to tell you?”

“I want the truth,” I say. “I want to know why we aren’t working. We were never like this before, and I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s been hard since Kayla died, and we’re both handling things differently, but you seem to have backed away from me completely, and I don’t get it. What am I doing wrong?”

He goes rigid, and I can tell he doesn’t want to get into this. His face contorts. He takes a deep breath and stands, the chair sliding back forcefully. He places his large body in front of me and holds my face, looking into my distressed eyes. “Nothing. You’re doing nothing wrong. I’m trying to work through some things. I just need time.”

I look at him, and my heart starts to yearn for its other half. The half who seems to need a break. A break from what? What is he working through? I’m confused.

“Work what out, Cooper?” I cry. “I’m so confused. What’s changed about me? About us? I’m the mother of your child, for God’s sake. We’ve always been us. You and me. What’s going on? Please, I need to know.”

He lets go of my face and looks away. “I can’t tell you. This is my burden. Not yours. All it’ll do is make things worse,” he whispers.

I know he’s struggling, but he’s hurting me. He’s slicing me open every time he looks at me. Every time he holds back a touch. It’s doesn’t feel right anymore.

I slide to the floor, leaning against the cabinet. I need to be sitting to divulge my deep, dark, disgusting secret that I regret with every passing second. “I need to know. If you love me, you’ll tell me why it hurts to touch your own wife.”

This is a pivotal moment. I need the answer. I can’t stop wondering what’s wrong with me. Did losing Kayla, not birthing him a healthy baby, somehow tarnish what he thinks of me? I need answers.

“Kylie,” he groans, walking away. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“No, Cooper! I need to know. It’s killing me.” I sob, feeling out of control at not being able to get to him. The weight of the world sits on my shoulders and is pulling me down, crushing me, burying me. My body rocks. I want to wail, scream, and lash out at the world. “I want you to tell me. I don’t care how much it hurts. Not knowing is driving me insane.”

I look up, pleading with my eyes for something. Anything to tell me what’s going on.

He opens his mouth and closes it quickly. His jaw clenches, his breathing rough. He’s trying to restrain himself. His body sags in defeat, and he sits with his back against the fridge. He tucks his head down with his hands behind it. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never, ever want to hurt you. This will hurt you.”

“Please,” I beg.

His body shakes as he expels an arduous breath. “It hurts.” The words get caught in his throat. “Every time I try, I feel pain. I feel sick. It’s uncontrollable. I’ve tried to fight through it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Something is fucking wrong with me, but I just can’t do it.”

I try to hold back the brutal sob that claws out of my throat. The feel of utter rejection. I asked for this. I asked. Now it’s time I suck it up and listen. “Why? Tell me, baby, tell me why?”

He looks at me, tormented tears sliding down his face as well. He looks miserable, and I can’t do a thing to help it. We’re both dying in pain.

“I still see her, Kylie. When I close my eyes, she’s there and you’re there.” His body shakes violently as he forces himself to go on. “When I look at you, she’s still there. Fuck, I hate myself for this. I don’t know what to do. But when I try to make love to you, I can’t get into it. I need time to figure this out.”

I bring my knees up to my stomach and lay my cheek on them, trying to protect myself. I’m not sure what I’m protecting myself from. Maybe Cooper, or life, or from losing my baby. I can’t keep going. I want to stop this torture.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I flip my eyes to his, our emotions on display like lines on a map. We can see everything. We’re at a crossroad. He can’t give me any more than he is, and I can’t go on without more to dull this ache that smothers me.

“I can’t do this anymore. I need something, an outlet for this pain. I’m going to go crazy,” I admit.

“I don’t know what to say.” His eyes glisten with sorrow and anguish. “I think we need to take a break for a while. Try to deal with this on our own.”

I flinch as if he’s just slapped me. Bile rises in my throat. A panicked tingling surges through every cell and nerve of my body. I hyperventilate and rock back and forth, hugging my knees. My heart races and tears burn my eyes like acid.

I can’t help the ragged, piercing scream that tears through me as I let out every ounce of anguish I feel, every molecule of pain that is singlehandedly destroying us.

I want to die. I want to be wrapped up next to Kayla and never see light again. I feel as if I’ve lost everything. The pain is so bad that I roll to my side in a ball and slam my fists into the cold tiles. I block out everything around me. The only thing that goes through my mind is the repeated mantra that I want to die. I want the pain to end.

I feel anger burn within me. Anger that life’s stolen my soul when I’ve done nothing wrong. I need to get out of here. I want to hide, escape. I try to roll to my knees, but I can’t see through the sting of tears. I feel arms wrap around me, and I claw to get away. He holds tighter. Too tight. The pain of wanting what I can’t have kills me.

Him. Her. My family.

“Kylie, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Relax, baby. Breathe. Please, just breathe.”

I lose my fight at the low, ragged break in his voice. We’re so exhausted. So broken. Maybe we do need a break. Wasn’t that what I was going to propose anyway? Why does it hurt so badly? Why does it feel so earth-shattering? I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m feeling, what I want.

“I don’t know how to say this,” I whisper.

“Say what? It can’t get much worse.”

I swallow hard and crawl out of his arms to sit in front of him. I stare into his green eyes. A feeling of sickness washes over me.

“I did something,” I confess, guilt seeping off me. “Something… I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I was just hurting. I’ve been having these thoughts that maybe we should open our marriage to others.” I’m so ashamed.

He winces and heaves a deep breath. “What?”

“I need something you can’t give me. Nothing will change. We’ll still live together, keep our lives together, but maybe we can try to work through our pain this way.”

“What the fuck, Kylie?” He stands and moves away, leaning against the counter with his back to me.

I pray he’ll fight me. Get angry and take me forcefully. Make me feel as though I’m still his. This is my cry for him, for his love. I hope this doesn’t backfire. I’ll take anything, absolutely anything he can give me. I just need him, his touch.

“Tell me what you did,” he commands, slamming his fist into the granite. I hear him groan.

I get up to go to him. I need to reassure him. I haven’t done anything major. Yes, I’ve messed up, but we can still get this under control. I lay my palm on his back. He flinches away, and I feel the sting of new tears.

What have I done? Oh God.

He turns toward me, and the look on his face stops me cold. His eyes are the first thing that suck the life out of me. They’re disconnected, vacant, almost as if he’s decided to check out. I stand completely still, afraid to move.

“Tell me, Kylie. What did you do? You said you did something.”

He sounds eerily calm. My heart hammers, and I clench my hands, digging my nails into my palms. I let the pain help me block out Cooper’s cold, distant stance.

“I haven’t done anything yet.” My throat is dry, making my voice crack.

“Apparently you did.” He steps into my space. “Tell me what you did, baby.” He says the last word almost tauntingly.

“I contacted someone.” I cry, realizing what a disgusting person I am. How could I even think about doing this? My cry for his attention is backfiring. I’m losing him. The pain that slices through me quickly turns to anger. My husband’s unwilling to fight for me, to fight for us. “Are you going to say something? Anything?” I taunt, hoping he’ll show me some life, some fight. I put my lips as close to his as I can get. “Are you going to say anything? I need you, but I can’t have you.” I press myself against him. He looks at me and I see a small spark in his eyes. It’s enough to keep me going. “What do you want? Do you care if another man touches me? I don’t want it, but I need something. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me if you can’t love me.”

He stares at me, breathing hard. “You might be on to something. Maybe this could be a good way to work through the pain. We can set rules, come home, do things as normal. But as far as you and me, we can figure ourselves out on our own.”

I always wondered what it felt like when your soul detaches from your body. I thought you had to be dead to experience it, but I was wrong. I experienced it when I lost Kayla, and it felt as if someone had ripped the heart right out of my body. I thought I’d never feel that kind of pain again. But I was wrong. He’s agreeing. I didn’t expect that. I expected a fight, screaming, throwing stuff, but this… cold, resigned agreement slashes me.

“What?” I whisper, stunned.

“I can’t do this anymore either,” he says. “There’s too much here, and I think we could both use a break from it.”

Where did my Cooper go? “You’re okay with this?”

“Yeah, It’s… I’m good.”

He looks at me, and I see nothing in his eyes. Nothing at all. What the fuck just happened?

“Cooper, I made plans for tonight.” I swallow hard, my guilty confession tumbling out of my mouth. My heart stops, hoping this will shake him out of his stupor. I made plans, but I never wanted to go through with them. He’s forcing my hand. Oh my God… Is this happening?

He flinches slightly, and I see a flash of pain in his eyes. He swallows, and that hint of life leaves him. He’s giving up.

No, please. Don’t give up.

He tilts my face up to his. His eyes glisten with sorrow. Tears stream down my face. I just want my husband, but he doesn’t want me. I repulse him. I sicken him. My legs weaken as pain explodes within me like fireworks. He grabs me and holds me tight, burying his face in my neck. I feel him tremble.