Against All Odds (3 page)

I pull a pillow over my aching head. Today is not the day for a hangover. I have so much to get done. I should’ve known better. With my eyes closed, I think over last night and Cooper. His piercing green eyes pinning me in the bar.

How did we get here?
My sweet husband is gone, and I’m to blame. I think over the last two years as I burrow deeply into the soft cotton of my pillow.

“Kylie.” A voice infiltrates my sleepy brain as a hand lightly brushes my cheek. “Hey, baby, wake up. You need to get ready.”

I blink open my swollen eyes and take in Cooper’s exhausted face. “What?”

“You need to get up and get ready for the funeral. It’s today,” he whispers.

“No,” I say. Tears that I thought had dried up pool in my eyes. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not going, Coop. I can’t.”

This is not happening. It can’t happen. I won’t accept it. It’s just a dream. She’s not gone. She’s not gone. I won’t let her go, and no one can make me. I love her. No, no, no. I can’t, please, no.

Close your eyes. Breathe. Slow, deep breaths. Touch your belly; she’s still there. See, she’s still in there. It’s okay. This is just a nightmare. It’s not real. Go ahead, move your hand down. Feel your baby. It’s going to be okay.

Closing my eyes, I’m desperate to believe my own thoughts. I slowly wrap my hands around my belly. It’s empty. Fuck, it’s empty. Reality wraps its long fingers around my neck and chokes me. I sob, groaning and roll away from Cooper.

He takes a deep breath. “You have to. I know this is hard, but we have to do this for Kayla.”

We have to do this for Kayla?

I don’t want to do this for Kayla. My body aches from top to bottom, and sobs bruise my ribs. I feel the bed move and warm hands wrap around me from behind. I don’t want his touch. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want anyone near me. I want to be alone. I want my baby back.

I move away, but Cooper clings to me, not giving me the space I desperately need. He kisses my neck, and I feel his hot tears on my collar bone.

“Shh… we’ll get through this, Ky. Shh, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” he says. “It’s gonna be okay, baby.”

The thing is, it’s not okay. Even though I can feel, I’m dead. My heart and soul are dead, and I have no intention of living again. It’s still too raw, and I’m not ready to face it. I want to stay in my warm bed, pretend it’s not real, and sleep. Where I can dream of my beautiful girl. Where I can close my eyes and picture her little face, her glossy hair, her small lips, and her body, still and peaceful. I can smell her, taste her sweet baby skin. I can hold her. I can keep her. I can be her mother. I can have a family. I don’t want to wake up and move. I don’t want to breathe without her.

“I can’t, Cooper, please,” I whisper, my words desperate and groggy. “Give me my meds. I just want to sleep. I want to be alone.”

“No, Kylie, listen to me. We have to be there. I know this is more than either of us can take, but you are her mother and you need to be there. I’ll hold you up, but you can’t miss this. It’s not right, Ky. Please don’t make this harder. Please, for me.” His despair is audible as it seeps from his mouth. “Please, Kylie, please just get up.”

I cry heaving sobs. Why won’t he just leave me be? She’s dead. For fuck’s sake, she’s fucking dead. I don’t want to see her in a little box. I don’t want to say good-bye. I don’t want pity or sympathy. I don’t want to say thank you to people who are “sorry for my loss.”

“Cooper, please, just go away. Just leave me.”

“No, Kylie, you’re all I have. Our parents can’t make it, and I don’t want to do this on my own. I can’t. I need you.” The desperation in his voice clings thick to the air. “Get up, please. Just get up, for me, please.”

I cry harder, and Cooper rolls to his back, letting me go. His breathing is heavy, and I can feel his tears.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

I know this is hard for him. Just as hard as it is for me. But I can’t help him. My instinct is to curl into myself, and I’m too exhausted to fight it. I feel the bed shift as he gets up. A second later, it moves again, and I feel him in front of me.

His hands touch my face. “Kylie, look at me, please.” His voice is achingly tender and broken. “I need you to hear this.”

I crack my eyes open and look into his. The green eyes I love with everything in me. The green eyes that have never abandoned me, that have always loved me, that are hurting.

“I can’t do it without you, baby. Please, I can’t do this alone.” Desperation is etched into the lines around his eyes. “I need you. I need you there. I know you’re struggling. I know, but you’re my air right now. If you’re not there, I’m going to suffocate. Please don’t do this to me. Please, I can’t do this on my own.” He kisses me tenderly, and I taste his salty tears. “I’m failing you right now, I know I am. I should be able to carry this for both of us, but I can’t. I can’t do it without you near. I need you. Please, don’t abandon me.”

I hear him, but I’m numb. The hurt is a poison seeping through my veins, killing me one organ at a time. The pain, the pleading in his words rolls through me, but I can’t do it. I want to. I want to be there for him, but I’m too weak. Putting my baby in the ground will put me in the ground, I can feel it.

A part of us dies in this minute.

His face falls as he sobs, saying over and over, “Please, I can’t…I can’t do this. I need you. I don’t want to bury her alone. Please, Kylie, I need you.”

His strangled cries constrict around my heart, obliterating me. The love of my life is hurting, but I’m not whole enough to love him through it. My own pain is taking a front seat. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t be there for him right now. I’m broken, soulless, floating in a sea of torment so deep it coats every aspect of my being.

His struggling breaths wrap around me as we lay together for a while. I feel him fighting with himself, wrestling his emotions, and I do nothing. I just lay there with my eyes squeezed shut. I need to fight through this with him, but everything in me is dead.

Eventually the bed shifts, and Cooper sighs. His lips press to my cheek. I should reach for him, hold him, give him a hug, something to love him in this moment, but I don’t. I do nothing.

Not one thing.

I close my eyes, praying for sleep. For something to take the pain. Lost, I need anything that’ll strip away this feeling of being smothered and not being able to escape. I feel myself drifting off to the sound of the door slamming. The empty house brings a chill that’s unimaginable. Tears roll down my face as my numb body empties broken sobs into my pillow. Eventually, everything in me gives out, and sleep swoops in.

The sound of water wakes me. I stretch my aching muscles and open my eyes, squinting through the light. Turning my head toward the bathroom, I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. He’s home.

I glance at the alarm clock. It reads six fifteen p.m. I missed it. I missed my own daughter’s funeral. Tears fill my eyes as I realize what a shitty human being I am. I not only disgraced her, but I let down the man I love. I sit up, my feet hitting the cold floor, and take a minute to steady myself. I hear the water running in the bathroom. The urge to be near him hits me hard, and I get up, heading toward Cooper.

I ease open the bathroom door, and a thick rush of the steam hits me in the face. I sneak in and undress, wanting to slip in and wrap my arms around Cooper. I want to tell him how sorry I am that I wasn’t woman enough to be there for him. That I wasn’t woman enough to honor the memory of our daughter. I just didn’t have it in me. I open the shower door as softly as I can and slide in behind him. I run my hands around his firm torso and lock them together around his front. Cooper freezes, his breathing stops.

I lay my head on his back. “I’m sorry.”

He’s silent and continues to stand there with his hands braced on the wall. I give him a while to find words. I try to explain with my body pressed to his how incredibly sorry I am and how I wish I could make things better.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually I hear him struggle to form words. His voice wraps around me and strangles me.

“Do you have any idea what today was like? Do you have any idea how it felt to watch her being lowered…” Trembling, he pauses, devastation choking his words as he continues. “How it felt to tell people you weren’t coming? The looks on their faces? The way they embraced me like I had lost two people? Do you have any fucking idea?”

Shaking, I grip him harder and try to talk through my tears. “No, no, I don’t. I’m sorry, Cooper. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t face this.”

“You couldn’t face this,” he whispers. “Have you thought of me at all in the last couple weeks? Have you thought of me for even a second? Do you think I wanted to face this? Do you think I wanted to do all the planning, all the phone calls, and bury her alone? Do you think that I wanted to be there today?” A sob rips from his throat.

I hold him tighter, pressing into his back. I feel his pain. It bleeds off his skin in waves, painting the walls red in agony.

“No, I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have? I lost her too, Kylie. I lost my little girl too, and it fucking kills me. I needed you. I needed you by my side today.” His head drops forward, and his body turns hard. “I’ve left you to mourn, left you to grieve. I’ve tried to understand. I haven’t asked you for anything. I know how you feel, and I’ve tried to be there. I made the plans, the phone calls, set everything up. All I needed was you there today. I wasn’t asking you to do anything or say anything. Just be there. That’s it. I needed you.” His voice breaks as his body trembles violently.

“Cooper, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “She was all I wanted. She became who I am. She was with me for months, and I don’t know how to let that go. I don’t want to let her go. I couldn’t face her laying there. I couldn’t deal with it.”

His breathing is labored, and his body strains as though he’s in pain. “I’m trying to get that, baby. I’m trying real damn hard to understand, to let it go, to accept.”

He turns around, and I crumble to the bottom of the shower. I look up at the man I’ve loved since I was sixteen, and I know I fucked up. His luminous eyes are red and puffy, and the light that used to seep out of them is gone. His forehead is etched with stress, and his blonde hair is matted. His broad, tanned shoulders shudder with sadness, and his body is tight. He looks at me with pain. Pain that not only I inflicted, but the universe has inflicted upon us. Looking at him, I see a broken man searching for something to take his worries away. A man desperate for escape. A man jaded and tormented. His love for me is still there, but the tenderness is gone. Something’s changed. A switch between us has flipped, and I can’t fix it.

“I need time,” he whispers, remorse bleeding from his lips. “I just… I can’t do this right now. You wanted to be alone, and I’ve given you that over the last two weeks. Right now, I need the same thing. I need time. I love you, but I need you to give me space.”

Adrenaline shoots through me, and panic slices me open. I can’t lose him. I can’t. “No, please. Please don’t leave me too. I know I fucked up, but please don’t pull away. Please just stay here with me.”

“Kylie…” He sits down and pulls me into his lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I need time. I need to deal with what’s going on in my head. All this is too much. I just need a night, okay? Just one night to get my head right. Today’s been… today’s fucked me up.”

“I can’t lose you. I need you. God, I’m so sorry, please just stay with me tonight. Don’t go. Don’t.” I tangle my hands in his hair, pulling his naked, dripping body against mine.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he says. “I’m never going anywhere, but I can’t do this right now. One night. I’ll be at Gray’s, okay? I need to get myself together. I need space.”

I feel my heart break, but I understand. It’s the same thing I’ve been asking him for. I’ve been pushing him away, and I owe him time. So I say nothing while I hold him as though he’s my life raft. I’m scared. I’m scared of losing him. I’m scared that fate has handed us too much. I cry into his shoulder while we cling to each other.

Lost.

Broken.

Tortured souls.

“I love you,” I murmur. “I love you so much.”

He doesn’t reply, but a couple tears trickle down his face. I know he loves me. He gently moves me off him and stands, leaving me broken-hearted in the shower. I pull my knees to my chest as I hear the shower door close, followed by the bathroom door.