Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) (19 page)

She grunted, sounding more animal than human. Damn, she was suffering all right. Grabbing the water bottle I’d also bought during my trek downstairs, I cracked it open and lifted the covers so she could see what I was offering. “You’ll feel better once you get this in you.” It took a few moments, but soon she was kind of propped up, half sitting-half tilting to the side as she took tentative sips. Like a good girl, she also accepted the two aspirins I gave her.

I was a real pro in hangover management.

“Just tell me I didn’t embarrass myself. That when we see our friends, I won’t be regaled with my drunken exploits.”

“Truthfully? I don’t think you’ll hear anything from anyone,” I answered, not missing the relief that crashed over her.

“Good.”

“But that’s not because there’s no stories to tell. It’s just that you were all a little crazy last night!” I finished, grinning. “Fortunately for you, I remember it all and my lips are sealed.”

Caylee closed her eyes as if the effort to keep them open was more than she could handle. “I drank too much.”

“You had fun,” I corrected. “It’s okay to blow things off once in a while.”

Cracking her left eyelid open, Caylee peered at me, her focus still a little glazed. “Which means I’m good for another  . . . ummm . . . twenty years.”

“I will tell you this.” I leaned in and brushed the side of her head, stroking her hair. “I’m still waiting for you to show me these killer skills and moves you learned last night from Six. You kinda got distracted before you showed me the magic.”

That did the trick. She remembered. “Oh God. Cooper!” Yep, right now, I imagined her mind was whirling over the images of her pulling Rebecca and Brooklyn onto the coffee table in Cian’s home where the after party was held, and dancing like they worked at
Coyote Ugly
, a bar in a movie they loved watching.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. I promise. I didn’t let it get too out of hand.” When she hadn’t taken a mouthful of water in a few minutes, I pointed to the bottle. “Keep drinking.”

She obeyed, grimacing as she struggled to swallow. “I don’t think I want anything in my mouth right now.” As soon as she heard her comment, Caylee started to roll her eyes only to stop. She gripped her head. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“How about we get you in the shower and see if that helps?” Standing, I waited to see if she needed my help. “And then we’ll talk about that last statement. I’m sure you just meant you didn’t want any more alcohol. I, for one, can think of at least one thing you’d like in your mouth.” When her mouth popped open, shocked at the innuendo, I grinned. “Easy, girl. I meant food.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mister Casanova,” she grumbled, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed until they touched the floor. “I’m sure that’s exactly what you meant.” Color had finally returned to her features, her lips curled into a small smile. Yep, she’d be fine in another hour or so.

“I’m innocent. Scouts honor!” Leading the way to the bathroom, I opened the shower stall and turned the faucet on. Water cascaded down. “Besides, you think I’m amazing. In fact, you told me how much you love my fingers and how I touch you. You even begged for it.”

Caylee rested her head against my back, her arms loosely wrapped around my waist. “You’re going to have to fill some of the blanks in for me, Cooper. Just be gentle, okay?”

Slowly, she undressed and slipped around me into the shower. When she stood there, letting the hot water break over her naked body, I caught a glimmer of her mischief streak. “Do you need an invitation?”

I didn’t need to be asked twice.

****

“What's the matter? You okay?”

Despite how quiet the room was, I hadn't heard the shower switch off or Caylee rejoin me in the room. All I could think about was the phone call and the suffocating, blinding fear it had brought with it.

“Cooper?”

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to form the words needed to respond. Instead, my mouth opened and closed like I was a fish out of water. To speak, to vocalize the message delivered by my mom, made it real and, selfishly, I wanted to hold on tightly to the fraying strands of denial. Saying it out loud, acknowledging it . . . the walls I’d kept surrounding my heart now threatened to topple over and bury me alive.

But there was no avoiding or escaping the truth. There was no hiding away from it with the desperate hope that this was a dream.

Caylee's hand rested lightly on my knee as she crouched before me. “Talk to me.”

“Lola,” I whispered, my ears barely registering the utterance, it was so soft. Panic pressed down hard on my chest, paralyzing me with the thoughts racing through my mind, every bottled fear breaking loose.

Lola. My lifeline. The sweet creature who'd helped keep me from teetering over the edge into insanity and destruction. My heart.

“We need to go. Now.” That last word acted like a sledgehammer, slamming against me with such a force it shattered my foolish attempts to delay the inevitable.

Staring into Caylee's worried gaze, I gave in to the dread churning in my gut. Tears filled my eyes as I added, “Lola was hit by a car and she's been rushed to the vet. I . . .” I shook my head as if it would somehow dislodge the fog threatening to envelop me. “I don’t know a lot of the details, but I need to be there.”

My voice cracked under the pressure of controlled emotions as the truth hit me like a ton of bricks.

There was no trying to think positive and looking on the bright side of things. The silver lining of hope so many counseled me to search for when I came home from the war had evaporated into thin air the second I heard my mom’s tearful message.

All I felt was that familiar stirring of loss and grief—the pain before the storm. Before the end of the day, I faced the possibility of fresh heartbreak with the death of another beloved friend.

Unlike before, despite my past, this . . . losing Lola . . . it would be the thing that broke me beyond repair.

Grabbing my things like I was on autopilot, my soul reached out and upward, daring to believe that just this once God would be listening, that my prayers wouldn’t go unanswered.

Please don’t take her from me.

Please keep her safe.

With all the hope my damaged heart could muster, I poured everything into that one plea.

Please.

Chapter Twenty

Caylee

A bell jingled as the door to Healthy Paws clinic opened, the scent of disinfectant comforting. Cooper was currently somewhere in the back, sitting with Lola as she recovered. The early prognosis had been a good one, thankfully. In a case where every second counted, Cooper’s mom had quickly gotten her to the veterinarian—reducing the chances of shock and internal injuries from killing his beloved pet.

The drive home from Las Vegas had been agonizing. As each mile seemed to painstakingly decrease, Cooper silently clenched his hands into fists as he stared forward. I’d tried talking with him so I could help alleviate some of his worry, but in the end, the best I could do was get him home as soon as possible.

He wouldn’t be okay until he could see for himself Lola was fine—his imagination working hard against him. Cooper had all but flown out of the car the moment I’d pulled into the empty parking spot.

My heart hurt for him. Lola was such an important part of his life. If he lost her, he’d be devastated.

“Go on back,” the sympathetic assistant commented, gesturing to the door I’d seen Cooper disappear through earlier. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to get in the way, I’d left to go get him something to eat. The hangover I’d suffered from earlier had immediately evaporated upon hearing the bad news.

Who had time for headaches when potential heartache threatened?

“Thanks. Any change?” I asked, knowing the likelihood of anything changing in the twenty minutes I was gone were slim, but wondering anyway. He would’ve called if Lola had taken a turn for the worse. I just didn’t want to walk into any surprises.

“She’s doing nicely. Still asleep but that’s normal because of the pain meds and anesthesia.” Lola had needed sedating so the doctor could assess the damage and make sure there was no internal damage. The fact she’d survived being hit and the trip to the clinic worked in her favor, but she’d still require observation just to be safe.

So far this was what we knew—her front right leg had been fractured, requiring a cast to be placed on the limb. She was recovering from shock, an understandable ailment based on being struck by a vehicle—animal or human. X-rays and scans showed her organs were fine. All in all, no one doubted that Lola had a doggy guardian angel looking out for her. Even the vet was surprised her injuries weren’t more severe.

Cooper had taken the news as well as I could see—his lips pursed into a thin line, his brow furrowed. Storm clouds gathered in his eyes, telling me that, while he appeared to be keeping it together, inside his head was a different matter. Because I knew him, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize where his thoughts lay.

He’d blame himself for this, even though he’d been miles and miles away. It was an accident, but to him, he’d beat himself up for not being there in the first place.

As his girlfriend, it would be up to me to help him see that sometimes life happened, that we couldn’t always prevent bad things from occurring. Deep down, I knew he understood that, but this was his Lola.

“Coop?” I murmured, finding him sitting against the wall, his focus on the cage where Lola now lay recovering.

He jumped, startled. “Hey, how long have you been standing there?” The edges of his mouth lifted into a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. No, those were still filled with worry, making me wish I could make this all better or maybe reverse time to avoid it.

Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way. No matter how hard we wanted it.

“I just got back.” Holding up a
Sonic
brown bag, I shook it a little. “I brought you something to eat in case you’re hungry.” Even though someone had brought in a chair for him, Cooper had opted to sit on the floor; his back to the wall as he bent his knees in front of him, elbows resting on top of them. I ignored the seat as well and carefully lowered myself down beside him.

He peered inside the sack, sighing heavily as he dropped it between his legs. “Thanks. I’m not hungry right now, but this was thoughtful.”

Leaning against his shoulder, I joined him in staring at Lola, who hadn’t moved. “She’s going to be okay, you know. The doctor said he wants to keep her overnight just to make sure, but the odds are in her favor. You can breathe, Cooper,” I added, knowing just how tightly he was wound.

“Can I?” His words came out strangled, thick with barely restrained emotion. “My head tells me she’s alive and bones will mend.”

I nodded. “But your heart says different.”

He finally turned and looked my way, causing my own breath to hitch. I’d seen his haunted expression once before at the medal ceremony banquet held in his squad’s honor. It had killed me seeing it then. It was heartbreaking seeing it now.

“I can’t lose her, Caylee. I just can’t.”

I threaded my arm through his and hugged him to me. “How can I help?” Even if it was keeping an all-night vigil with him, I wouldn’t let Cooper face this alone.

“You’re doing it, sweetheart, just by being here.” A soft whimper came from Lola’s cage causing him to stiffen and he sat up straight, alert. When she eventually settled, so did he. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay my mom for getting here so quickly. I honestly think that’s what saved Lola. She could’ve died out on the street . . .” He choked, and the tears I knew he’d been keeping at bay finally tumbled down over his cheeks. “Like Owen.”

Those last two words sent a series of shudders through him as his tears gave way to soft sobs. All his pent up fear and worry bubbled out—his body unable to suppress it a second longer.

I said nothing and simply held him tighter. What could I possibly say that would make him feel better? Sometimes it was wiser to keep silent and let the person purge the intensity. Only then could they reclaim control and begin to think clearer. At least that’s how it was for me.

It wasn’t my job to try and fix him with lectures and platitudes, counseling him to keep positive.

Sometimes what the person needed more than being told things would be okay was a listening ear and compassionate heart. Cooper would get both of those from me. If it meant sitting on the cold floor while my boyfriend cried for his dog, for what might’ve happened, and to be truthful, his lingering grief for a fallen best friend, then I would sit here forever.

“I want to show you something. I think it’s time.” He didn’t wait for me to respond, instead he dug into his pocket to pull something out. “I’ve carried this around since coming home from the last deployment.”

I’d been so caught up in studying his face that I didn’t realize what he held between his fingers until he brushed his thumb across the metal surface. Some of the words had faded, but I instantly knew what it was.

A large lump formed in my throat.

Owen’s dog tag.

I had my own set back home in a special box I’d had made to protect my keepsake. Mine were currently in the top drawer of my bedside dresser—weeks since I’d last pulled it out and held it.

“Cooper,” I whispered, absently wiping away the stray tear with the back of my hand.

“Sgt. Ramsey gave it to me in the hospital. I have no idea what she did to acquire them but they became one of my most cherished belongings. I’d been totally out of it for days with transport and surgeries. She’d somehow known how much I would need this—” His voice cut out suddenly and, with trembling hands, Cooper stroked the dog tag in a motion I knew deep in my soul he’d done repeatedly and often in the years since. “We never exchanged things. We always thought we had time . . . that we were untouchable by danger. It wasn’t that we were naïve or had a false sense of bravado, we just couldn’t focus on the
what-ifs
, you know? If all you focused on were the possibility that you could die, the fear and paranoia would consume you. So we filed it away in the back of our minds and focused on our missions.” The way he held the dog tag with such reverence was humbling.

“It makes sense. You controlled what you could. I’m sure it’s what kept you all sane. I remember Owen saying something similar. He would tell me he didn’t want to borrow trouble and that he trusted that his time wasn’t up so young. That God was on his side.”

Cooper snorted, shaking his head. I prepared for a bitter rant about God, especially now with Lola was hurt, but it didn’t come. Cooper had something else on his mind.

“I’ve carried this in my pocket like a worry stone. Sometimes I rub it for luck or for strength. Mostly, it helps me get through those rough moments when I feel the walls closing in and I can’t breathe. It reminds me I’m not alone.” Cooper barked out a brisk laugh, his body rocking. “Which is stupid because it belonged to my dead friend, a reminder of a time I failed to protect one of my own.”

“He wouldn’t see it that way,” I interrupted, desperate to comfort him. “And I don’t either.”

“Let me finish, sweetheart. I know.” His fingers stopped tracing where Owen’s name was faded from the countless times Cooper had held it. “It should be a painful souvenir, if you will, but it’s not. Call me crazy but each time I reach for it, I can hear Owen’s voice in my head. He used to say
it is what it is. No, point crying over spilled milk when you can simply pour yourself another glass
.”

His words filled the room, stirring up memories of the times I’d heard my late husband say the same thing. “First, I would never call you crazy. You’d have to tell me the same thing because I think of that, too. Second, Owen got that from his mom. It was such a source of comfort to him that it doesn’t surprise me that he shared it with others.”

“It’s kept me from making choices that I would never be able to come back from.” He didn’t need to say it. It was easy to assume his meaning. The suicide rate amongst veterans was a bleak and sobering reality of what some faced returning home. Cooper had been through so much—his grief keeping him crippled for so long that I wouldn’t have been surprised that he’d considered it an option.

It chilled my blood at the possibility of never having him in my life—at how close I could’ve come . . . that all those that loved him, came to losing him.

Cooper clenched his fist around the identification tag tightly. “I miss him. I wish I could see him just one last time so I could tell him how sorry I am and beg for his forgiveness.”

Gently, I laid my hand over his; silently hoping it would somehow ease his pain. “Don’t you know how much he loved and respected you? You were his brother. He considered you blood.”

“True, which makes my guilt even stronger because I let family down.”

“The only way I see you doing that is by holding onto this false sense of obligation. You’re continually beating yourself up for something you had no control over. Are you hearing me, Cooper?” I scooted to the side so I could look him in the eye and drive my point home. It was time for him to stop being stubborn and accept the only one blaming him was himself. “He loved you and would be horrified listening to you torture yourself over this. No one holds you accountable. Do you want to know where the true fault lies? With the one who pulled the trigger.”

“But . . .”

There was no way I would let him finish that sentence. “No buts. Did you pull the trigger, Cooper?”

“No.” His response was barely a whisper and I had to lean in to catch it.

“Please, no one else is here. It’s just you and me.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I prayed I was truly reaching him—that my words weren’t merely bouncing off the shield he hid behind. “Let it go. Not for me. Not for Owen. For you. You can’t keep carrying this. It’s going to slowly chip away at you, eroding all the beautiful parts of you until all that’s left is pain. It won’t change the fact that a tragedy occurred, but please . . . you’re drowning before my eyes and refusing to save yourself.”

“But, Caylee.”

“I know it hurts that Owen died. It kills me, too. But you didn’t, Cooper. You survived. Honor him by forgiving yourself and moving on. I promise you, it’s what he would want.” I took a brief pause from my passionate plea to take a deep breath. “And you can believe me because I was his wife.”

He didn’t say anything, instead sitting quietly, his head down. Slowly, Cooper returned my embrace, and I felt the exact moment when he released his tight grip on his emotions. His sobs became louder, the dog tag slipping from his grasp to the floor.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. Lola will be okay.”

Muffled by his face buried in my hair, I could still understand his words. “All I could think was it was happening again. Over and over like a mantra inside me that I couldn’t silence, and with each taunting repeat, that sense of criticism got heavier and heavier. I couldn’t save Owen and then I wasn’t there to protect my dog.”

“But you’re here now. That’s what matters,” I replied, gently patting his back in an attempt to soothe him. “And when Lola wakes up, she’ll be happy to see you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she can sense you now. You’re just as important to her as she is to you.”

When his tears stopped and he regained his composure, Cooper scrubbed his face with his hands and let out an exhausted huff. “She’s my lifeline. She’s what kept me anchored in the beginning and every day since. She’s what helped me not get lost to anger. Her love kept me sane.” Picking up the dog tag, Cooper slid it back into his pocket. “All I could imagine was her lying there, hurt and in pain, feeling helpless to do anything other than hold her while she passed.”