Little did he know, we had no intention of stopping our ruse there or playing properly. After four more goes around the table, Rebecca guessing wrong once, he finally started wising up to a conspiracy when he swallowed his fifth shot.
“You guys are jerks!” he bellowed when we finally confessed. The word “guys” came out a little slurred, making us crack up even harder. “Turn your cards over!”
Sure enough, there were mismatched pairs on the table, our attempt at keeping the joke a secret. “You should’ve seen your face, man,” I laughed, turning a deaf ear to that small voice in my head that whispered I’d smiled more tonight than I had since being home. It almost felt like before I’d signed up to become a Marine.
Almost.
Those days had come and gone, forever lost.
“Whatever happened to bros before hoes?” he retaliated, pretending to act butt hurt.
“I hope you’re not implying we’re hoes, Marty?” Caylee asked, her eyebrow arching.
“Because if you want to get technical, you’ve had six shots of our girly-girl drink. That makes you the biggest hoe here,” Rebecca added.
I expected him to get mad, but her comment created the opposite. Standing up and sweeping her into his arms, Marty didn’t miss a beat. “Then by all means, let’s strip down to our underwear and have a pillow fight. Maybe have some girl-on-girl action?”
“You are such a pig!” Rebecca snorted, slapping him hard. “Put me down.”
“Nope, I kind of like where you are now.” The look on Rebecca’s face said she did, too.
“So I guess we’re done playing cards?” Caylee asked, her eyes darting everywhere but the very public display of affection her roommate was having with my friend. There was no denying the chemistry and sexual tension between them. If they didn’t start making out on the spot, it wouldn’t be long. I just hoped they made it to her room, sparing Caylee and I the free show.
It was hard enough ignoring the way my body seemed to gravitate toward her without any added distraction. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen my buddy in action—I had. When rooms were scarce and the women begging, you did whatever you needed to get your itch scratched. The trick was not to make eye contact while your cock was being sucked or you were balls deep in your latest fuck.
Nothing took the wind out of your proverbial sails faster than that.
“We’re done playing Go Fish,” Marty retorted, not letting go of Rebecca as he sat down, perching her happily on his lap as his hand lightly resting on her hip. They looked good together.
“Fun spoiler,” she murmured, leaning back into him.
“I’ll show you fun,” he growled, and I coughed, desperate to break the heat being generated from the pair.
I knew that growl.
I’d used that growl.
“Maybe we should give them their privacy?” Caylee whispered, leaning closer.
“Or throw a bucket of cold water over them,” I countered.
“I heard that,” Marty grinned, dragging his gaze away from Rebecca for a brief moment. “Although . . .” He looked at her knowingly.
Everything always seemed to boil down to sex. Usually, I didn’t care—I had no problem enjoying carnal pleasures.
But when the one you wanted to get carnal with was off-limits?
“And I think that’s our cue to say good night.” Reaching into the bowl, I retrieved my keys and held them in my hand. “It’s a school night,” I teased.
“I’d make an amazing student if you want to teach me. Although, I’m more interested in detention. I’m all for a good spanking.” Biting his lip in an act of seduction, Marty went too far, taking it from mild flirting to full blown cheese.
It was Caylee’s turn to moan. “Oh my gosh. Get him out of here!”
Even Rebecca grimaced. “Dude, you just earned yourself a cold shower. Take him home, Cooper. Please!”
“There’s no pleasing you, is there?” Heaven help me, he actually pouted.
Caylee’s roommate wasn’t falling for any of his bullshit lines. “Not when you say things like that. Go. Leave with the little dignity you have. Come back when you can be sexy.”
With his hand pressed against his heart, Marty stood, staggering to the side like the room was spinning and he’d lost his balance. “You wound me, She-Devil.”
Watching the two of them made me long for something that felt so out of reach—that good-natured, light-hearted ease from building a connection. It looked so simple from where I was standing, yet so complicated when I turned to Caylee. Her features had softened, her pink lips curled into a content smile. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have that.
It had been so long I’d forgotten.
“Okay, I’m heading out,” I coughed, shaking the last of my reflective mood away. There was no point wishing for something impossible. Just like the cards still lying on the table, sometimes it just didn’t match up. “You staying or coming?”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see how badly Marty wanted to stay, but he shook his head. “Thanks for the great evening, girls.” He offered them a gentlemanly bow, still laying his charm on thick. “Next time, we’ll cook for you.”
“Deal!” Both the girls exclaimed at once.
Curling his arm around Rebecca one more time, I was close enough to hear him whisper, “And next time, we’ll definitely enjoy some dessert.” His suggestive tone made her blush, which in turn made him smile even wider like he’d just vanquished his enemy.
He was incorrigible.
“Thanks for tonight,” I murmured to Caylee, my response somewhat lacking compared to Marty’s.
“I’m glad you were able to come. It was fun.” Gently, her hand rested on my arm, not moving as we headed toward the front door.
Stuck with what to say next, a million things streamed through my mind—each thought too stupid to utter. It was yet another trait I’d discovered since befriending Caylee—this newfound ability to second-guess myself.
I finally decided on keeping it uncomplicated. “I’ll text you.” Then I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. The fragrance of her shampoo flooded my senses, jerking at my heart and sending it into tailspin. All from one inhale.
Damn.
I didn’t wait for her response, instead glaring at the two kissing in the doorway. “I won’t hesitate to leave you here, either.” I sounded like a grumpy asshole, but I didn’t care. I had to get out of here.
Giving Rebecca one last peck on the lips, Marty jogged behind me to the car. “What the hell crawled up your ass?”
Turning the engine on, I gave one last wave to Caylee and Rebecca as they stood side by side, waiting for us to go. “Nothing.”
“It’s not like you to leave a party early.” Dragging his hands through his dark hair, Marty clicked his seatbelt into place, eyeing me cautiously.
“Wrong kind of party.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but there was two of them and two of us. I’m pretty sure Caylee is into you, as well.”
If he thought that would make me smile or it was what I wanted to hear, he was mistaken. “We’ve already been through this. Drop it.”
True to form, Marty ignored me, and pushed forward. “No, you’ve given me all the reasons why you won’t pursue Caylee. She’s just a friend. Blah blah blah. I saw how you looked at her tonight. Better still, I saw how you relaxed around her.” When I didn’t speak up, he took it as a sign to keep going. “I’m not saying it has to be serious between you . . . but why not see what happens? I’m sure Owen—”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, my knuckles instantly whitening. “Marty.” One word, but it was enough. He’d gone too far, and he knew it.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, man. I just—”
“You just nothing. Drop it.”
“Fine.” Slouching back into his seat, Marty peered out the window, stewing. He didn’t understand, and I was too annoyed to explain. This would have to be something we agreed to disagree over. Put a little
water under the bridge and he’d move on. There was always a parade of eligible women prancing through our lives—Caylee didn’t need to be one of them.
But you want her.
And with that one statement, I shut it all down.
The truth hurt and I was all about lies, even when they were getting harder to believe.
Chapter Twelve
Caylee
“Hey, Mom. Just checking in like you asked. I’m heading into the library for the next hour or two, so I’ll try back then. Love you.” Clicking the phone call to an end, I pocketed my phone, grinning at how funny life was. Here I was, almost twenty-three years old, and I still called my parents every couple of days. I’d been pretty independent most of my life—more so after Owen died—but there was one thing I knew with a certainty . . . things always seemed to run a little smoother hearing my mom’s voice.
Regardless of age, you never outgrew your parents.
At least, I hadn’t.
Sure, I now lived in another state, but I could still get my fix by calling and Facetiming. You would never hear me complaining about modern technology. It helped protect that family connection—even as I set out on my own, determined to face life head-on.
My attending Black Canyon University wasn’t their favorite choice—my mom repeatedly reminded me of how far away it was—but eventually, she understood. I couldn’t stay there in our small town where everyone knew my story. The once welcoming farming community had seemed like the logical place to return to. After Owen’s funeral, something changed—not with the people, but something within me.
Everywhere I turned served as a bitter reminder of everything I’d lost—the hopes and dreams I’d spent years creating with the love of my life. Therapy hadn’t helped eased that anxiety and need to escape, either. No amount of love and support would settle the small, still voice that whispered my childhood home was now a prison.
I had to leave. I was suffocating with each slow beating second that passed until finally I snapped. I couldn’t stay. Not if I wanted to live. That was part of the guilt that still sometimes gnawed at me—like I was betraying the promises Owen and I had made by turning my back and fleeing. Despite that voice, I had to believe that, even in death, he was standing by my side, pride shining in his eyes as he mouthed take courage.
Owen wouldn’t call me a coward, even though I spent my first week in Black Canyon calling myself that every time I caught a glimpse of my reflection. He’d tell me it was okay, that I had his blessing to move on. That’s what hurt the most—knowing that thought was true. There were still moments where I felt like screaming and railing at God for taking him from me. We had a plan. We were in love, and we believed we were invincible.
They were the foolish ramblings of children.
It was those thoughts that had him enlist in the Marines.
It was those beliefs that silenced any doubt I had so I could kiss him good-bye each deployment—smiling through my tears as I murmured one last time that I loved him. We talked about forever, and how, together, we could conquer the world.
In the end, it was a bullet that shattered all our carefully laid plans.
A bullet, a tiny piece of metal. Insignificant when lying in our bed, our bodies wrapped up in each other, conversations fading away as kisses replaced our words. Back then, all we could see was a shiny future filled with countless possibilities.
But that forged piece of shrapnel was absolutely significant.
It defined our relationship—changing me from a wife to widow.
Grief started to settle over me like a lover, its caress achingly familiar. I couldn’t go there again, into the depressive darkness that totally consumed me. I wouldn’t bring that chaos here to where I was rebuilding my life. Shivering from an imagined chill, I steeled myself and slowly released my breath.
I could always tell when panic was setting in by the way I wouldn’t exhale—holding on to the air in my lungs as long as possible. It was as if the action would somehow stop time so I could take a short break.
A break from feeling, thinking.
Each day got a little easier. Going about a daily routine, being responsible. Somewhere along the way, it evolved from faking it to making it. Rebecca definitely helped keep my mind from wandering off into dangerous territory, and believe it or not, Cooper helped as well.
Two months had passed since that ill-timed entrance to the office where I saw him with another woman. The images still burned through my body when I let myself fantasize over it, lowering my guard. Rebecca had once teased me about it, asking if I ever replayed those minutes over in my head. I just rolled my eyes and changed the subject, not brave enough to admit that not only did I think about it, but I would also extend the scene further—remain there in the room.
Late at night, I even imagined that it was me he was making love to.
I didn’t linger too long on that because what usually followed was guilt—not for daydreaming about Cooper or about dishonoring Owen’s memory.
It was because I didn’t feel guilty about that.
When I first felt that stirring of attraction, I expected to feel bad for looking at another man sexually, even if it was my dead husband’s best friend. Articles I’d read about grief told me everyone experienced loss differently and not to try and force myself to live someone else’s standards and expectations. That had been comforting to know—to realize that there was no right or wrong way about it.
While I didn’t actively pursue this chemistry between Cooper and me, I didn’t dismiss it. I sure as heck wasn’t going to beat myself up over it, either. If there was one thing Owen’s death taught me, it was if something was going to happen . . . it would.
I’d meant what I’d said to him about developing a friendship, and although he was, at first, reluctant to open up, I’d been right to follow my instinct.
We needed each other—in whatever capacity.
Right now, that was as friends and I was totally cool with that.
Life was only complicated if I made it that way.
“Earth to Caylee . . . hello!” Rebecca waved her hands in front of me, a concerned look gracing her features. “You’re like a few steps away from face-planting into the wall, roomie.”
Sure enough, had I kept walking, I’d have met with a rude shock. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Lucky you have me around to protect you.” Linking her arm through mine, she followed me into the library. “Do you think you’ll be okay while I log in and start work?” She peered at me closely. “Or do I need to continue keeping an eye on you?”
Rolling my eyes, I poked my tongue out. “Ha ha, smartie pants. I got distracted for a few seconds. I’m pretty sure I got this covered.” I dropped my bag onto the empty desk, my position for the next few hours while I waited for Cooper and caught up on some homework.
Rebecca sat opposite me, leaning forward like we were co-conspirators about to brainstorm our most devious plot yet. “I have a favor to ask.”
Her admission piqued my interest. “Oooh, this should be good.” Unzipping the top of my bag, I slid out my psychology text and notebook. There was an assignment due in another week, and I still needed to do a good chunk of it. All I needed was some uninterrupted time and I could finish it.
Writing papers were never too difficult for me once I understand what was required. I was well aware this particular gift made my roommate groan with frustration. There’d been countless nights where I found her staring at her document, fingers frantically typing, before she would highlight the passage and delete.
I understood that need for perfection—to get it right the first time. Thankfully, I’d broken myself of the habit. By doing so, school became a lot less stressful.
She shifted in her seat, digging something out of her back pocket. “Have you seen this?” I stared down at the paper and nodded. It was the band’s flyer they liked putting up everywhere, advertising where they’d be playing next. Hanging out wit
h Cooper, I’d seen a lot of them. I’d even helped staple some around campus on bulletin boards.
“Sure.”
“So you agree with me that this is complete rubbish!” There was a hint of excitement in her voice, the only sign I knew that warned of an impending rant.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, puzzled. “It’s got their name and the venue information.”
“It’s generic. It looks like something they created one night and printed from their mommy’s printer.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to confess she was pretty close. Cooper had explained he’d made it on the computer at his brother’s office. While it wasn’t as fancy as it could be, it still got the job done. “And how it is supposed to look?” I still couldn’t see what this had to do with the favor she was dying to ask.
“Anything but this. They need something more professional . . . something that sets them apart from everyone else. Tell me you don’t think they’re amazing and have a real chance at hitting the big time.” Rebecca waved the flyer in the air, her fingers scrunching the bottom.
She had a point. “So what’s the favor?”
“You need to talk to Cooper about me designing a logo or something for them.”
Her request surprised me. She was dead set on this—the look on her face telling me she full believed I held that power. “So why don’t you simply ask Marty? You guys are still hooking up. I’m pretty sure that gives you an in, if that’s what you’re assuming you need me for.”
She actually snorted. “This is important, Caylee. If I thought Marty would take this serious, I would. He’s interested . . . in other things . . . if you know what I mean.” Finally, she blushed, her eyes cast down to the books spread out in front of me. “We, uh . . . don’t usually get time to . . . you know . . . talk.” The boastful grin curling her lips showed she wasn’t complaining in the least.
I raised my hand, signaling for her not to utter another word. “Ugh, please! Spare me the details. It’s bad enough I can hear you two.” It only took that one night for me to invest in earplugs. Every now and then, I still gave her a hard time about it—claiming to be emotionally scarred from the sounds I heard coming from her bedroom. She hadn’t even attempted to look apologetic, shrugging instead.
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