“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.”
“Well, she’s not going to die and when she gets to feeling better, we’ll celebrate.”
“Have I told you how much I love you, sweetheart?” There was no missing the awe in his voice. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you either.”
“One last piece of advice before we see if the food is salvageable.” He offered a weak chuckle at the reminder that he’d yet to touch the burgers I’d bought for both of us. “And I know it won’t necessarily be easy when it’s become such a strong habit, but it’ll be worth it. Find a way to let go of your fear. You’re so worried of failing people and losing them that you’re missing out on all the wonderful blessings that surround you. Someone wise once told me when all we focus on is the bad stuff that could happen, it’s like holding a dime up to your eye. What do you see? The dime, of course. But that’s it. Toss the coin across the room and what do you see? The dime and everything else. You won’t ever be able to stop loss and death. But it’s the sweetness of life that helps make the tough times more tolerable . . . the extra bit of rope to hold on to when your grip is failing.”
“I love you,” Cooper whispered again. “And thank you.”
“In fact,” I continued, stopping to grab my purse. Rifling through the contents for what I knew lay at the bottom, I finally pulled it out victoriously. “I want you to carry this in your pocket with Owen’s tag.” And between my thumb and finger, I held a dime.
He kissed it once before tucking it away. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“You didn’t have to do anything.” A softer, lighter feeling descended over us. “Other than eat.” I chuckled, handing him a wrapped burger.
“She’s going to be okay.” The statement was more for him than a question. And taking a bite, he finally relaxed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cooper
“I know, baby girl,” I crooned as my fingers stroked over Lola’s sleek fur. We were currently resting on the makeshift bedding I’d set up in the living room. The vet had advised Lola keep away from furniture where she could jump off so I’d ordered a large body-sized beanbag on Amazon and had it express shipped to the house. This way she could rest in her doggy bed and I could sit comfortably beside her on the floor.
For the most part, her recovery had been textbook and she was handling her change in routine better than I expected. It didn’t stop her soft sighs from tugging at my heartstrings, though. Glancing down at her broken leg, I was grat
eful that this was all that had resulted from her being hit by the car.
It could’ve been worse—much worse.
She’d been home for the past two days and I’d taken time off as well so I could watch her. It was the beauty of working with my brother—he understood my need to ensure she was okay before our mother took over babysitting duties for the remaining few weeks it would take to completely heal.
Lola let out another huff. She didn’t love the cone around her neck, but she was bearing it graciously. As tempting as it was to take it off so she could get more comfortable, I also knew she’d chew at her cast.
I knew I would in her position. The bandages and things used when I’d been injured had driven me nuts, the constant itch like a constant irritation buzzing in my brain to scratch, scratch, scratch.
Checking one last time and finding her eyes closed, I gently shifted so I didn’t disturb her. The best thing she could do right now was sleep.
It wasn’t until I was on my way back from the kitchen with food that I heard a knock at the door.
Right on time.
“Hey man,” I answered, stepping aside so Aidan could come in, a plastic bag in his hands. Ever since he heard about Lola, he’d been coming by every day with treats, giving her kisses as he whispered what a good girl she was. That was the thing about my sweet dog—everyone loved and claimed her.
“How’s she doing?” Aidan asked, peering down at her still form. “And how much longer does she have to wear the Cone of Shame?”
I pressed my finger against my lips. “Sssh, don’t let her hear you call it that. You’ll give her a complex.” With her resting, I gestured to the couch. I took a seat as well and propped my feet on the coffee table. I was exhausted. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I slept more than a few hours, if that.
Anxiety kept me awake. I was afraid that I might not hear Lola should she need me and it exasperated my insomnia. I was used to it, though. I’d spent countless sleepless night over the past few years—whether from avoiding the debilitating nightmares that plagued me or the inability to shut my damn mind off. Somewhere in my medicine cabinet, I had a prescription bottle with pills to help, but I only used them as a last resort. The medication made me a zombie the next day, sluggish at best. Since my life had taken a turn for the better, thanks to Caylee, I found my need to drug up and live in a state of numbness diminishing.
I was healing and thriving.
I’d gone from barely surviving as a man on autopilot to one who awoke each morning with a flicker of hope that kept growing. I still struggled, but I bounced back quicker. Once upon a time, Lola’s accident would’ve sent me into a dark spiral, trapping me inside my mind and body for weeks—months, until I finally clawed my way out.
Images and memories still haunted me, but at least now I had something to focus on—to live for—fight for.
“What did you bring her today?” I prompted, nodding at the bag still in Aidan’s hand. He was just as much a softie as I was. Between the two of us, Lola would end up with enough toys and treats to fill a large Pet Smart.
“I was Googling last night and I read an article that talked about keeping your dog mentally stimulated while they heal so they don’t get bored. So I went and picked a few things up.” And with a big grin, he dumped the contents of his bag onto the space on the couch between us.
“Shit, man, did you clear them out of everything?” There were at least four assorted squeaky toys, a plush soccer ball, a tube of tennis balls, and a package of chew bones.
Aidan’s cheeks flamed red that rivaled his ginger colored hair. “I couldn’t decide which she’d like best so I got them all.”
I couldn’t fault him or laugh. I’d done the exact same thing last night when I’d slipped out to go get her more food. Bryce had thought it hilarious when I’d returned thirty minutes later with an armful of stuff. The asshole had teased that, if this was how I was with an animal, albeit a beloved pet, he couldn’t wait to see my reaction when I became a father.
I’d flipped him off and then spent the rest of the evening picturing cute little daughters that looked exactly like their momma . . . Caylee. Surprisingly, the thought hadn’t freaked me out. In fact, it had filled me with a sense of wonder and peace.
I had a future—one that no longer terrified me.
“She’ll love these.” Squeezing the hot dog shaped toy, the noise reached Lola’s ears and they flickered. “You’re a good doggy uncle, man.”
“How you holding up?” Aidan held my gaze long enough to show he cared and was genuinely interested. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked the same questions each day, letting me know he was here for me as much as he was for Lola.
There was no disguising my yawn. “You could sleep for me.”
“Bad dreams?” Aidan was studying me now—for what I wasn’t sure. Maybe some tell tale sign that I was cracking beneath the mask I’d mastered over the years. While I hadn’t completely relaxed, I wasn’t in any danger of losing my shit. The melt down at the vet’s clinic had released a lot of that pressure.
I shrugged, downplaying that my nightmares had returned. Had they ever really gone? “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“If you need a break, I can watch Lola for you. Even if it’s for a few hours.” The idea of a small break did sound appealing but I couldn’t bring myself to accept the offer—at least not yet. It was going to be hard leaving her with my mom when I returned to work in two days.
She’d had the decency not to laugh when she suggested she’d FaceTime me throughout the day so I could see for myself Lola was fine. Something told me my mother was also curious to see how I handled becoming a father.
“Seriously, Coop. You haven’t even touched your food.” Sure enough, the lunch I’d prepared earlier still remained untouched. To prove that there was no need to worry, I took an extra big bite of the ham and cheese sandwich and almost choked when I swallowed too soon.
“Well, I do need to run an errand quickly, but I was going to wait until Bryce got home.” Today was a slow day for him and I expected him within the next few hours.
“She’s sleeping right now and I promise I won’t take my eyes off her.” Scooting off the couch, Aidan sat cross-legged beside the chocolate lab. His fingers brushed through her fur tenderly. “Should something happen, and I’m not saying it will, I’ll call you immediately.”
A knot formed in my gut. Damn, I had it bad. Being overly paranoid wasn’t helping in the slightest. Once again a battle warred inside me—my head telling me there was no need to be anxious while my heart struggled to listen. Finally, I relented, forcing myself to nod. “Fuck, I sound neurotic.”
“You sound like someone who loves their dog. Nothing wrong with that.” Reaching for my plate, Aidan grinned. “And I’ll help you with this as well.” I didn’t bother stopping him. The bite I’d taken sat in my stomach like a lead brick.
“I won’t be long,” I added, grabbing my keys and bowing down to kiss Lola. “Love you, sweetheart.” Then before I could change my mind, I rushed out of the house, inwardly laughing as I started the car and drove off.
I was completely screwed.
Just as Lola owned a piece of my heart, my future daughters and sons would also have me wrapped around their little fingers.
I was a goner already.
****
Two weeks later . . .
“You can’t be here, Cooper! You’ll ruin the illusion.”
If Caylee had the strength, she’d have thrown her pillow at my head. As it was, she groaned extra loud, collapsing back onto her bed and reached for more tissues. She blew her nose hard. It rivaled Rudolph’s in redness.
It was adorable.
“And what illusion would that be?” I chuckled, closing her bedroom door behind me. After texting me that she’d woken up sick, I’d been counting down the seconds until I could come over and play nursemaid. Caylee had begged that I keep my distance, but she was in no position to argue with me.
> Besides, she wasn’t the only stubborn one in our relationship. I put all her attempts to shame—earning the title of Master long ago. It was something my mother often liked to remind me—sharing countless stories of my antics growing up and the battle of wills I’d engaged in. There was a reason why I was known as the hardheaded one in my family. They knew better than to go toe-to-toe with me. I was relentless to a fault.
“The one where you have a gorgeous girlfriend who’s the picture of perfect health.” She broke off as her small frame was wracked with painful sounding coughs. “And not the snotty, ick-infested, germ-carrying mess before you. Not that I’m not happy to see you . . . because I am. But you need to be careful.”
Walking over to the bed, I quickly kissed her forehead, ignoring her feeble attempts to fight me off. “I had to make sure you were okay . . . you know, see you with my own two eyes. Your text didn’t reveal anything other than you felt like you were dying.” It had been her use of that word, paired with the drama involving Lola that had sent shards of blistering ice through me. I needed everyone in my life happy and healthy.
Would that word . . . dying . . . ever lose the power to rob my breath and chill me to the bone?
“You can’t get too close, Cooper. Seriously, I’ll feel horrible if you get this.” Caylee gave up when I sat beside her. Her glower was serious as the mattress depressed under my added weight.
Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) Page 21
