Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) (3 page)

Watching Marty leave with Rebecca in tow to get our drinks, I knew the comment had hit a little too close to home. It was the constant elephant in the room between us—the war and Cooper’s grief over his failure to save Owen. For the most part, we danced around it, ignoring the one thing we had in common, but didn’t have the courage to face.

I offered Cooper the grace to deal with his grief in his own way.

He let me silently watch and wait—ready to step in should he need someone to keep him from spiraling out of control.

“You okay? We didn’t put you on the spot with the birthday treat?” I took his hand in mine. “Be honest.”

The long drawn out exhale was answer enough. “It just caught me by surprise, is all.”

“Do you want to talk?” It was the same question I offered whenever something like this happened. I wouldn’t push or pressure him—that wasn’t my style—no matter how desperately I wanted to help.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that the only way I could encourage this beautifully complicated man to talk was to give him the room to breathe and open up on his own.

Cooper shook his head. “No. Thanks, though. Truth be told, I’m more interested in getting you alone so I can tell you what I want for my birthday.” The lustful tone in his voice all but licked at my libido.

“Is that so?” I purred, already under his spell.

His lips brushed against my ear, sending goose bumps rippling over my skin. “Have I told you how good I am at unwrapping gifts?”

There was no disguising the shiver that rocked my body. “I haven’t given you anything yet.”

Cooper’s finger brushed the spaghetti strap over my left shoulder, looping under it as he teased. “Trust me, sweetheart. You have.” To prove his point, he kissed the exposed skin, nipping at it before soothing it with the tip of his tongue. “Do you think they’ll mind if we leave? I ate cake and now it’s time for the dessert I want.”

Damn, he was impossible to say no to.

“Cooper . . .” I murmured breathlessly.

“Mmmm, music to my ears.” His hands grazed down my arms before snaking around my hips. “Say it again.”

“Oh god, no. Spare us,” Marty groaned. “Seriously, I think I threw up a little. You guys are nauseating.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Cooper snorted, reluctantly giving up whatever he planned on doing next to turn around and flip his friend off. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have the shittiest timing ever?”

“Did anyone ever tell you to get a fucking room?” Marty retorted, holding out a shot glass. “Let’s drink these so you two can continue your sappiness in private.”

Cooper passed it to me before taking the other one offered. “Don’t even get me started, dude.”

Rebecca elbowed Marty hard, causing him to wince. “Give them a break. Heaven knows they’ve had to endure us from time to time.”

It was my turn to burst out into laughter. “From time to time?” These two were constantly joined at the mouth. They put us to shame and made us look like naïve, innocent virgins.

“Shush,” Rebecca scolded, and raising her glass, she paused to gather her thoughts. “I just want to say how wonderful it’s been getting to know you, Cooper, and how much I appreciate your friendship. It’s not so fun in the middle of the night and I can’t sleep because you two are going at it like rabbits and that damn headboard keeps banging against the wall, but . . .” Her face flushed a scarlet red when she realized that she’d confessed to hearing us have sex. Marty simply looked at her like she was his everything all wrapped up with a glittery bow. “Sorry, what was I saying? Oh yeah . . . happy birthday, Cooper. May this be one of many! Cheers!”

We answered with a chorus of the same, tipping our glasses back as we swallowed the fiery liquid.

“Damn, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.” I shuddered, unable to stop the way my stomach gurgled as if it wanted to reject the alcohol immediately. “Remind me again why I agreed to drinking this nastiness?” I could already feel the affects kicking in. I was such a lightweight when it came to liquor.

“Because.” Marty laughed, his lips glistening wet.

It was Cooper that finished the sentence. “Tequila has this amazing ability to make all my dreams come true.” He bit on his bottom lip as his gaze dropped to, first my breasts, and then lower.

He was flirting and I liked it. “Really?” Two could play this game.

“Yep. Didn’t you know it makes you want to take all your clothes off?”

My eyes widened. “No way!” I exclaimed, looking to Rebecca for confirmation. “Seriously?”

My best friend shrugged. “Why do you think it’s Marty’s favorite drink?” When he slapped her on her butt, she giggled. “Sometimes I wonder if it runs through his veins instead of blood.”

“Hey, I don’t hear you complaining,” he growled, reaching for her.

There was a look of perfect adoration on Rebecca’s face before she gently tapped her fingers against his cheek. “Trust me, I don’t. I’ve always said the best place for your clothes are in a pile at the end of my bed, lover.”

I wasn’t the only one who groaned over how cheesy her comment was.

“And I think that’s our cue to say our goodbyes and call it a night,” Cooper countered. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay and play pool some more?” Rebecca asked, even as Marty shook his head and mouthed
no.
It wasn’t hard to guess where both the guys’ minds were and that the rest of the evening wouldn’t be spent bent over the billiard table.

Bent over something else . . . maybe.

Just not here.

Cooper wasn’t interested in any more group activities. His focus had shifted to a more intimate way to celebrate his birthday.

“I’m sure. It’s been a long day and Caylee’s got an early morning tomorrow.”

I didn’t miss my cue, faking a yawn or two for extra measure.

“You heading home?” I asked. Cooper hadn’t mentioned whether we’d be sleeping at my place or his, but Rebecca had taken to staying with Marty at his.

“Sooner or later,” he answered for her, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ve got a few plans of my own.”

Making sure we had everything, there was another round of hugs and well wishes—the night a success.

“Wait!” Rebecca blurted out, an expression of horror blasted across her features. “I forgot!” Ignoring our curiosity, she began digging through her shoulder bag, and produced a prettily wrapped gift from inside. “Happy birthday, Cooper.”

He wasn’t the only one surprised. We discussed tonight for the past week and not once had Rebecca mentioned getting him anything. I knew my roommate—she was incapable of keeping a secret. The longest I’d seen her keep one was a day and she’d been on the verge of exploding by the end of it.

Cooper’s hands shook a little as he slowly started unwrapping the pink and white polka dotted paper. Whatever it was, it was small enough to fit in his pocket, the package pliable.

“It’s not anything spectacular but, when I saw it, I instantly thought of you and knew you
had
to have them.” Rebecca was all smiles. Marty and I watched on, intrigued.

With one last rip, the present was open and in his hands, Cooper held a pair of socks. “Ummm,” he murmured. “Thanks?”

“You’ve got to look at them better, silly,” she retorted, leaning over to hold them up when Cooper didn’t react. “See. They’re Superman socks.”

Sure enough, they were blue with the iconic symbol stitched into the design. But that wasn’t the funniest part. When she turned them about, there was a red cape at the top of each one.

They were adorable.

“Every super hero needs a cape so here’s yours,” Rebecca gushed. “You’re our very own Clark Kent, minus the nerd glasses.”

“What did you say?” The coldness in Cooper’s tone was unmistakable as he stared in disbelief at the socks, refusing to accept them. Something was wrong. His body language all but screamed it.

“Cooper?” I asked, resting my hand on his arm.

He flinched, yanking away from the contact.

“I don’t want them.”

Even Rebecca was puzzled by his dramatic change in demeanor. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked super heroes. You’re just like them, after all.”

Like a light bulb going off in my head, I suddenly understood.

Hero.

The one word Cooper loathed with a passion.

The one word he refused to allow anyone to attach to him.

The one word he felt was a slap in the face.

Hero.

My boyfriend was about to lose it.

Chapter Three

Cooper

If she waved those fucking socks one more time in my face, I was going to say or do something I’d regret—right here in front of everyone. I would look like the complete asshole, but I didn’t care.

That word.

Hero.

It repeated over and over again inside my mind like a goddamn nail being pounded into wood—flesh—me.

The trigger was always the same. Someone with good intentions would start spouting platitudes, flinging it about as if they were proclaiming me a saint when in fact it felt like acid scorching a painfully open wound.

A wound that refused to heal—that would never heal. Not as long as Owen remained dead and buried.

It was like returning home again—the words that spewed out of mouths that didn’t know what the hell they were saying, but did so out of desperation anyway. They felt bad—sympathetic to the broken man left crippled by war. They thought it would help soothe those jagged pieces, that somehow, miraculously, being elevated to saint status would erase the agony.

That was the problem. Nothing would soften the blow or make up for the choices made in the heat of battle, for the calculated decisions made each day so they could enjoy their freedoms.

I knew what I had signed up for, or at least I believed I had. It was about making the world a better and safer place for humanity. It was about standing up to those who would seek control via cruelty. It was about fighting for those unable to defend themselves.

It was all these things and so much more.

But hero . . . the word felt dirty, angry, bitter in my mouth.

I would never be a hero.

Killing. Murder. Failure. Those were not accolades to be praised for.

Death was death—no matter the justification. I was merely a weapon to be wielded.

Even with all that buzzing around in my head like a swarm of angry bees hell-bent on destruction, those words weren’t the driving force behind my rage.

Yes, there was an all-consuming fury boiling beneath the surface demanding for release. It was an emotion I kept heavily guarded because once freed it would burn the world around it to the ground. It didn’t discriminate. It simply laid waste to everything it touched—Caylee included.

I’d been toxic before time had taught me control—tools to manage my grief and anger.

Hero.

A hero didn’t fail to protect those in his charge.

A hero did everything within his power—even if it meant sacrificing his own life.

A hero didn’t submit to bullet wounds.

He didn’t roll over and lie helpless in the middle of gunfire.

He didn’t look on as his best friend and brother bled out on foreign soil.

He did something—anything.

He fought.

He fought with his last breath.

He saved.

He fucking acted like a hero not a goddamn coward lying in the dirt.

Tears rolled over my cheek, leaving a hot trail behind as I swiped at my face, annoyed. More weakness. More proof that the socks still being shoved at me were for someone else.

They were for cartoon figures with superhuman powers, who could leap tall buildings in a single-bound—for those who could and did stop bullets.

At the mere thought, my thigh started throbbing, the ever-present reminder that I managed to walk away while the true hero died.

Owen. It always came back to him.

He should’ve been here—stealing kisses from his wife, celebrating one more birthday, basking in the love and support of his friends.

Suddenly the large
S
stitched on the socks took on a new meaning. It didn’t mean super at all. It meant something truer, more real, something much more deserving.

Scum.

That’s what I was. I was a scumbag for deserting my friend and an even bigger one for then hooking up with his wife.

It didn’t matter that she was now his widow. It didn’t matter what anyone said or how they’d tried to convince me that none of it was my fault. Staring at those damned socks was all the proof that I needed.

Being with Caylee was just another in a long line of mistakes. She would never be mine, despite how desperately I needed her to be.

I’d forgotten that my happiness wasn’t important—that the only way I could see me making penance for my failures was to deny myself the very thing that would save me.

What kind of hero took what wasn’t his?

I was the villain in this story.

The die had been cast.

There was no undoing the past or rewriting this part of my story.

And just like that my fury broke free and with it, the pent-up breath I’d kept caged within me. With what little sanity I could quickly grasp hold of, I stormed by a bewildered Rebecca, banging shoulders with Marty, who stood torn between comforting his girlfriend and grabbing my arm in an effort to stop me.

I couldn’t even bring myself to glance at Caylee.

My beautiful, shining, perfect, Caylee.

The one person I couldn’t let my darkness touch.

I’d tainted her too much already.

“Cooper!” she cried out, the sound of heartbreak in her voice enough to make my steps falter. Deep inside my chest came the need to stop—to shove this ferocity back inside the prison I’d kept it in.

Kept. The idea made me snort it was so fucking hilarious.

I didn’t keep anything.

I was the master of nothing.

My emotions governed me, dictating my every move like I was a puppet on a string and created to dance for its pleasure. I was a fool to think that somehow I had control over how I felt. That I’d incorporated the tools gleaned from shrinks and their psychobabble.

I was triggered and there was no casual
talk down
or breathing technique to calm me.

No, what I needed—what my friends needed—was for me to get the hell out of Dodge before I destroyed the very things that helped me survive.

Their friendships.

“No,” I growled in response, not bothering to turn around. I couldn’t look at her. If I did, it would shatter the fraction of common sense I could muster. There was only so much guilt I could handle and one more mouthful and I’d suffocate.

“Dude!” Marty exclaimed but I didn’t wait long enough to hear whatever he wanted to say. I knew I was being a colossal asshole, and maybe, just maybe, I would laugh once this passed and realized that I’d overreacted.

But not now.

I couldn’t.

Reason had come and gone—leaving me nothing to work with.

All because of one fucking word that held the power of a sledgehammer.

“Please, Cooper. I didn’t mean it. Please, wait. Don’t go.”

Tears, all I could hear were tears.

Sympathy. Horror. Regret. Confusion.

I’d heard those sentiments before and closed my heart against it. I couldn’t open myself up to it and live. I couldn’t listen and stop myself from lashing out in pain and anger.

Hero.

Motherfucking hero.

I was choking on the word.

The fresh air from outside did little to cool my temper, and as I looked about for an escape, I silently begged that they’d give me the breathing space I needed—that God or whatever higher power out there would inspire them to not follow.

“Cooper!”

I closed my eyes, my fists tightening by my sides. Grinding my teeth in an attempt to find a semblance of clarity, I counted to ten beneath my breath.

“Walk away, Caylee. Please.” My voice cracked with emotion. I couldn’t get into it here with her. Not while I still felt so out of control.

“Talk to me. I understand. She didn’t mean it.”

“They never do,” I answered bitterly, spitting out my anger. “To them, it’s such a pretty fucking word.”

Caylee didn’t move, standing her ground behind me. I was grateful for that small mercy. The last thing I needed was to see the pity I knew I’d find in her eyes. That’s just who she was. She loved me.

She’d loved
him
and now she felt that same way for me.

It would be too much, and I was grateful she made no attempt to touch me. She recognized that, like a wounded wild animal, she was wiser to keep her distance.

“I know, Cooper. I know.” Her words floated in the air around me, not quite easing the tension, but soothing nonetheless. “I didn’t know she’d planned that.”

“You’re not responsible for me. You shouldn’t have to screen every interaction people have with your boyfriend.” That’s what irritated me the most—that feeling of needing to be handled. She was my girlfriend—someone to love and laugh with—not be protected and sheltered by.

The last thing I ever wanted in this relationship was to know she was more caregiver than anything.

No one needed that kind of burden.

“I never said I was. You’re a grown man, Cooper. We all know that, but whether you like it or not, you can’t control how people care for you. We do it instinctively because of what you mean to us.”

“I warned you about this,” I countered, ignoring her last comment. She was attempting to talk me off the ledge, but what she didn’t understand was I lived here—with the constant threat of toppling over at any given moment. “Walk away now, Caylee. While you still can.”

“Now who’s being treated like they’re fragile?” There was heat in her accusation, and rightfully so. I was doing the exact same thing to her, but damn it, it was safer for all of us if she’d simply leave and never look back.

I still hadn’t turned around. In the background people exited the bar, some happily laughing as they staggered away, their night of drinking at an end. What I wouldn’t give to exchange places with these strangers and experience how life should’ve been.

“This is different.”

“Bullshit. It’s exactly the same and you know it.”

It took every ounce of strength not to whip around and argue. Weariness hit me and suddenly the only place I wanted to be was in the safety of my room. The anger that had gripped me so tightly slowly began to recede. “I need to go home, sweetheart. Please. Not now.”

There must’ve been something in my voice because her next words came gentler, empty of all fight and determination. “Let me help you.”

Before I could answer, Marty stepped in. “I got him. I’ll make sure he gets home okay. Let Rebecca know I’ll stop by later.”

Rebecca.

Fuck, I’d probably freaked her out with my meltdown and rudeness.

“Look, man,” I started, ducking my head in embarrassment. “I—”

“She’ll be okay. I’m not going to lie, the first time witnessing you get triggered this hard is brutal. But she cares about you. She understands.”

“Maybe I should go back inside and apologize.” I turned around only to be filled with disappointment that Caylee was gone. Maybe it was for the best she hadn’t been standing there. I still wasn’t ready to face her just yet. “Fuck. I totally ruined tonight.”

Marty gripped my shoulder, squeezing it slightly.  “Yeah, you did, but the best thing you can do is go home and sleep it off. Put some distance between it.”

Scrubbing my face with a tired hand, I couldn’t shake the need to go make things right. “How bad is it?”

I didn’t need to elaborate. Marty knew exactly what I meant. “I think you surprised her is all. It could’ve been worse. Remember the first time I said something that set you off?”

I cringed at the memory. “Fuck. I don’t even remember hitting you.” Casting a sidelong glance at my best friend, I was amazed he was still standing by my side after all we’d gone through—after all I’d put our friendship through.

“No hard feelings either. You’ve gone through hell, Coop, so no one could really blame you for losing your shit once in a while. Just make sure you work it out with her tomorrow and explain what happened. She only wanted to let you know she loves you and that you matter to her.”

“Yeah, she didn’t know what that word means to me,” I continued, feeling my body relax further.

“No, she didn’t otherwise, she’d never have used it.” Slapping my back with one hand and waving for a cab with the other, Marty offered me a crooked smile. “Seriously, go home and sleep this off. You look like crap.”

“Fuck you.” I laughed, the sound of my chuckle feeling somewhat foreign after the maelstrom of emotions earlier. “Let them know I’m okay, will you?” I asked, throwing one last glance at the bar. Caylee and Rebecca were still inside, believing goodness knows what about me.

I just hoped that whatever damage I’d done with my outburst could be fixed.

“I will. Promise. Text me if you need anything, bro.” He pulled me into a quick bear hug before stepping back and waving me off.

After giving the driver my address, I sank into exhaustion and let my head fall back onto the top of the seat.

Happy fucking birthday
,
Cooper
. Scenes from tonight were already replaying in my head.