Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2)

by Belinda Boring

  Heather dropped the sheet of paper with a long, exhausted sigh and absently rubbed at her forehead. “How are you, Caylee? How’s school?”

  It was rough being so far away from my own parents. Having Cooper’s welcome me so eagerly into their family took away the gentle sting of being homesick. They’d accepted me wholeheartedly and I’d started considering Heather as my second mom.

  It helped on those days when all I needed was a hug from someone who wanted nothing else but to offer comfort and listen. I sometimes wondered whether Cooper knew about some of the impromptu visits I’d made when I’d simply been in the area and needed to chat.

  Seeing how close he was with her, I didn’t think he’d mind.

  Sometimes the only one who could reach through that moment of panic was a mother.

  “Same old, same old. I haven’t told Cooper yet but I found out earlier that I won the scholarship I’d applied for.” My face heated, even though I wasn’t embarrassed.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful news!” Heather gushed, placing her hand over my own affectionately. Pushing away from the table, she entered the kitchen, the sound of glass clinking together filling the air. Moments later, she returned with two iced tumblers of homemade lemonade. “I’m sure you probably have plans to celebrate with Cooper, but it’s not every day we get to hear awesome news like this.”

  Heather Hensley was pretty much a genius when it came to culinary skills—one of them being an expert at making lemonade. Until I’d started dating her son, my absolute favorite place to drink it ever was at The Venetian in Las Vegas. I’d gone there once and been singing its praises ever since. That was until a few weeks ago when we’d stopped by quickly so Cooper could talk with his dad.

  She’d offered me a glass and I’d been hooked ever since.

  Taking that first blissful mouthful, I didn’t bother disguising the orgasmic groan that erupted from within me. Eyeing the pitcher on the counter, three-quarters full, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask for a ginormous to-go cup of the heavenly mixture.

  She must’ve seen my covetous glance because she nodded knowingly. “I bought a plastic container the other day that would do perfectly for you.”

  This time I didn’t bother ducking my head, my skin heating with a blush. “You know me well, Mrs. Hensley.”

  “Heather,” she murmured, taking a sip from her own glass. “It’s good to find someone else who appreciates such lemony goodness.” Winking, she rested the tumbler on top of the cork coaster, lightly fingering the ignored bill.

  “It was the same in our house growing up. Me and my brother used to fight over it . . . determined to drink it all before the other.” The memory made me smile. There were countless occasions where I thought I’d had the upper hand, only to have Roman sit on me or do some fancy wrestling move he’d learned in gym. This would then lead to me screaming for my dad, complaining that once again, Roman was cheating.

  If I had a dollar for every time my punk brother would smirk, retorting with his customary all’s fair in love and war, I wouldn’t have needed a scholarship for tuition and school fees.

  Heck, I wouldn’t need to contemplate a part time job either.

  I glared at the Hensley’s pile of bills—stabbing it with my mind. Life would be easier if money wasn’t an issue.

  Heather smiled wistfully as memories took hold. “I’m surprised this house is standing after Cooper and Bryce.” The thought of them made me grin, too. I could just imagine the two of them tearing around each room, a frantic mother trailing behind them, desperately trying to salvage the furniture.

  Which raised a question I’d wanted to ask, but never really found an appropriate time to bring it up. “Is that what happened there?” Pointing at the shadow box hanging on the far wall in the adjoining living room, it was hard to miss the shattered and cracked facade. I hadn’t gotten close enough to see what was hiding beneath the sheet of broken glass.

  My stomach dipped at the sight of Heather’s features clouding over, her brow wrinkling as her gaze followed mine. “If only,” she murmured, paperwork forgotten.

  Silently, I kicked myself for speaking up. I’d obviously struck a nerve or painful memory. Heaven help me, but it also stoked my curiosity more. What could be so bad yet still on display for everyone to see?

  Pushing back from the table, Heather stood, crossing the small room before entering the next. She didn’t stop until she was facing the destroyed shadow box. Her hand stretched out so she could lightly brush her fingertips over it.

  Without another thought, I joined her quietly—the two of us staring at the wall. That’s when I saw what lay hidden underneath.

  That’s when a lump formed in my throat, tears threatening to spill.

  Medals.

  Cooper’s medals.

  I knew they were his because Owen had been awarded the same at the banquet held in their honor.

  Suddenly, I wished we were anywhere but here. A careless question and now we were trapped in different memories—our earlier laughter fading away.

  “We were so proud of him, Caylee. As a mother, I want the very best for my children . . . whatever made them happy. It wasn’t a shock when Cooper announced after graduation he planned on enlisting in the Marines, choosing to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather. I’d smiled and hugged him tightly, biting my tongue as the rest of the family surrounded him. It wasn’t that I didn’t think he’d excel or that his dreams of helping others was misguided. He was my son . . . I just wanted him safe. I’d raised him, and watched him grow into this incredible man. In my heart of hearts, it was tough realizing I couldn’t keep him close anymore—that I would need to share him with the rest of the world. So when the day of his deployment finally arrived, I did what any proud mother would do . . . I kissed him, told him how much I loved him, and let him go. Even as I offered up a silent prayer that God would watch over him and return him to me in one piece.”

  The emotion caught in Heather’s voice sounded identical to the feelings that had coursed through me with Owen. All I’d wanted to do was lock the doors to our small home and refuse to let him out. He was mine and where he’d wanted to go was dangerous. Fear taunted my thoughts back then—conjuring up all the different ways my husband could be hurt.

  In the end, it was faith that had won—my belief in Owen and the cause he was fighting for. For some, the call to arms was a driving force behind who they were. They couldn’t sit idly by and watch injustice happening, knowing they could help those unable to protect themselves.

  My Owen was a hero—the same as Cooper and all those who served in the military. They were heroes before ever seeing combat because it was who they were . . . lights in the darkness of war and violence.

  “So when he got hurt and medically discharged, a part of me felt guilty for the huge sigh of relief I let out. My boy was coming home and—” A look of horror filled Heathers face, her eyes widening as she glanced at me. “Oh, Caylee. I’m so sorry. That was thoughtless.”

  I shook my head. “Please don’t feel bad. I’ve made my peace with what happened to Owen. And honestly? I’m grateful you were spared that kind of heartache.” The last bit came out as a strangled whisper. I meant it wholeheartedly, too, each word the truth. Resting my hand gently on her forearm, I returned my gaze to the broken frame. “There were moments where I didn’t think I would survive.” My response sounded faint.

  Heather’s arm dropped only so she could wrap it around my shoulder, squeezing me to her affectionately. “I can’t even begin to imagine.”

  Something told me she could, however. The shattered remains over her son’s medals told a similar story—one that was just as filled with pain and helplessness as mine.

  “I think you do,” I murmured, unable to look away from the box. “Cooper did this, didn’t he?” What started out as a guess became more like a fact, my gut telling me my assumption was right.

  “Bryce had found them discarded in the back of Cooper’s closet one day. It bothere
d him that his brother didn’t want to display them or even talk about it so he brought them here. It was my idea to have them professionally mounted. We wanted Cooper to see how proud we were of him.”

  Dread sat in the pit of my stomach like a heavy stone. Knowing Cooper as long as I did, I could only imagine his response.

  Scratch that, I could see what his response was without being told.

  “He came over one night for dinner and like a fool, I presented my son with the shadow box. For the rest of my life, I will never forget the drastic change that came over him. It was the first time I realized just how deep his injuries went . . . that it went beyond the physical. It destroyed me to see how lost and angry he’d become.”

  Caught up in my own thoughts, it was my turn to gently touch the jagged cracks in the glass. Cooper had done this. “He carries so much.”

  “Too much. Standing there, helpless to comfort my son, his father and I listened as he ranted and railed . . . all the bitterness and rage he’d kept bottled inside spewing outward. It wasn’t until he punched at the glass, blood dripping from the broken skin on his hands, that we finally stepped forward. Trevor crushed Cooper to his chest and simply held him while his son cried.” Tears broke free from Heather’s eyes, falling over her cheeks, her bottom lip quivering. “I could go a lifetime and never see that again.”

  Grief didn’t only belong to those who survived a loved one—to those painfully acquainted with death. No, there were many ways to lose someone. I was beginning to understand grief also struck at the heart of those who witnessed the passing of a belief—powerless to wipe away trauma from those left living.

  It was it’s own form of nightmare—crippling.

  I’d caught glimpses of Cooper’s pain—in those moments where I’d somehow managed to break through the walls guarding his more vulnerable parts.

  My heart broke for him, like it now broke for his mother.

  While it didn’t dismiss my own pain over losing Owen, I couldn’t imagine how difficult it was to witness someone who was still living and breathing, walking and talking, yet slowly dying inside.

  In an ideal world, neither would threaten our peace of mind. It was a lesson I often resented, but accepted. I had to believe it made us stronger and better for having survived it.

  “You didn’t think to fix the glass?” I asked, finally looking at Heather. I couldn’t bear to stare at the medals a second longer—knowing what it now represented.

  Heather seemed to straighten, the grief she had only moments ago shown melting away into something more akin to pride. “Trevor and Bryce have asked me the exact same thing. Cooper knows I’ve hung it on the wall and he basically ignores it like it’s not there.” This time when she gingerly stroked the side panel of the box, it was one of tenderness. “My whole intention of doing this was as a reminder of everything Cooper had accomplished. That something good had come from the horrible things he saw and endured. Kind of like my way of seeing the silver lining.” She cast another tentative glance my way, cautious of her word choice.

  It made me love her all the more. That in the midst of sharing her own story, she was mindful of me and my feelings.

  “I like that,” I added, a small smile curling the edges of my mouth. “It’s why I have the flag that draped over Owen’s coffin framed and hanging in my bedroom.” I didn’t add that Owen’s parents now had his medals. While I hadn’t visited them in a few months, I knew they’d also planned to one day hang them up—a source of unending pride for the son they’d lost.

  “I just couldn’t bring myself to repair the glass. To me, this is a better representation of my son.” Heather must’ve sensed my confusion because she shook her head and quickly continued. “What I mean is this is who Cooper is right now . . . this is how his experiences have changed him. If we’re going to honor the service he’s given, we also need to honor the person he returned as.” Another solitary tear broke free when she blinked. Heather absently swiped at her cheek, catching it before it curved under her chin. “So while he heals, the glass remains.”

  It was impossible to keep from crying myself. What had first appeared as something broken, now stood as a testament to the love and strength of this family. They watched, sometimes from the shadows, but still they remained vigilant. They didn’t push or lecture, prod or pressure. They simply accepted that for this moment, Cooper needed to find himself again. There was no doubt in my mind they’d remain there . . . waiting . . . ready to help.

  “Look at us.” Heather laughed, sniffling as she finally wiped away her tears with the end of her sleeve. “One minute we’re celebrating and next we’re all emotional.” She released a pent-up breath, breaking the solemn bubble that had filled the room. Faint sounds from the garage and the guys practicing returned.

  “I’m grateful you shared,” I admitted, taking a step back. “It’s nice being able to open up to others who know what you’ve dealt with. For the most part, people are empathetic to what we’ve gone through, offering their condolences and appreciation for their services and sacrifice. But still . . .” Those last two words trailed off as I became lost in thought.

  There was another reason why I enjoyed visiting with Heather. As a mom, she held that sixth sense ability of knowing the precise moment a hug was needed.

  Like right now.

  “It’s not the same. There’s a certain kinship that comes when you’re with others who’ve had to endure the same heartache as you. It goes beyond words.”

  I nodded against her shoulder, wrapping my arms tighter around her, soaking up her soothing energy. That’s exactly how I felt, and even though her son returned home, she could still understand. One day, I hoped to introduce her to Owen’s parents.

  “Should I be worried?” Cooper’s comment startled both of us. I hadn’t heard him coming in and had no idea how long he’d been standing there—listening.

  “Of course not,” Heather answered smoothly, wiping her hands against the side of her jeans as she walked toward him. “Practice finished already?”

  Cooper didn’t reply, his focus just beyond where we’d been talking on the shadow box with his medals. His mouth formed a tight line and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something.

  Almost. His lips parted and he winked. “Yeah. It was hard to concentrate.” His comment was directed my way.

  It was nice knowing I had that kind of affect on him.

  “Moi?” I answered in mock surprise. “Are you sure?”

  The look he gave me spoke volumes. His thoughts were miles away from rehearsal and anything that didn’t involve alone time together. The heat from his stare stoked my own impatience.

  He made it hard to focus on things for me as well, especially looking the way he did right now.

  “Let me get you your lemonade, Caylee, and you two can go off and be young.” Grazing her hand over Cooper’s arm, Heather disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of cupboard doors banging open and closed following.

  I almost snorted. Was that what it was called now? Being young?

  “Is that what you want to do tonight?” I flirted, the distance between me and Cooper removed. Our fingers intertwined in front of us—just the briefest of touches but it was enough.

  He tenderly brushed the side of my face as if he was able to see the tears from before. “I don’t think my mom meant it that way but who am I to argue with my gorgeous girlfriend.” Leaning forward, Cooper placed a kiss on my forehead. “You okay?”

  I squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Yep, I really love chatting with your mom.” There was more I wanted to include but didn’t. Cooper was touchy at the best of times with anything that involved memories from the past. For now, I was content to enjoy the private moment between Heather and I. If he wanted to know more, he could ask. We’d been standing in front of his medals—he had to have known it was the topic of our discussion.

  He reacted just as I had assumed. Subject avoided. Moving on.

  “I was thinking we could
grab some take-out and maybe watch a movie at my house tonight.”

  “And celebrate.” When his brows furrowed in confusion, I remembered I still hadn’t told him. “I heard some good news today. Something that’s helped make life a little easier.”

  When I didn’t continue, Cooper tilted his head. “About . . .?”

  “I won the scholarship!” I was barely able to get the words out before Cooper had me up in his arms, swinging me around as he whooped in excitement.

  “I knew you’d win it! That’s amazing, sweetheart. We definitely need to celebrate.” Placing me not too gently back on my feet, my head still spinning a little, he cupped my face between his hands and kissed me. “Tell me . . . anything you want to do . . . just name it.”

  I couldn’t resist. There was only one thing I had on my mind. Rising up on my tiptoes, I whispered my request softly in his ear.

  “That was a given, Caylee,” he murmured, a seductive drawl in his voice that turned my insides to jelly. “But who am I to argue with such a scholarly beauty? Your wish is my command.”

  Cooper was still bowing when his mother returned, a jug filled with lemonade in her hands. Happiness shone in her eyes. After our conversation, I knew how much seeing her son like this meant.

  Walking us to the door, the guys already gone, I realized I loved my life. It hadn’t been easy reaching this point, but now I was here, there was a lot be thankful for.

  It gave me hope for Cooper.

  It reminded me that while storm clouds thundered, lightning flashing, it still passed. Rainbows were still possible, no matter the bleakness.

  “Thank you,” Heather whispered, giving me one last hug goodbye.

  “For what?” I seriously didn’t know.

  “For the smile he’s wearing. It’s because of you.”

  Her compliment made me blush. I didn’t think she realized just how much she had helped her son recover or the impact she had on his life. When I tried to argue back, she simply shook her head—the subject closed.