Bittersweet Melody Read online

“A therapist, and yes. It interests me and I like helping people.” I played with my straw, the ice tinkling against the glass. “Although, my course load this semester makes me want to bang my head against the wall.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “One word for you . . . math,” I groaned, my head hurting at the mere mention of my education nemesis. “Whoever thought knowing algebra was important to work in the Mental Health field is seriously bonkers. It causes insanity, not cures it.”

  I decided I really liked Cooper’s laugh as he snorted with merriment. “That’s why I love what I do. Start talking about equations, and you’ve lost me.”

  “I guess you don’t need to know about parabolas and the quadratic formula when you’re a rock star, huh?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call myself a rock star, more like a starving musician, but nope. And I like it that way. Even working for my brother’s construction business, I leave all that bullshit to him.” He winked before getting a sheepish look on his face. “Crap, sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m so used to being around the guys at work and the band that I forget my manners sometimes. My momma would faint if she knew I was cussing in front of a lady.”

  I waved my hand, amused that he was embarrassed. “Pfft. I’ve heard it before. Heck, you know Owen. I once counted how many times he dropped the f-bomb, just out of curiosity. Cuss words don’t bother me.”

  The carefree atmosphere we’d been enjoying instantly diffused into awkwardness, and I wanted to be anywhere but sitting here. Even after all this time, I occasionally slipped and talked about Owen like he was still here—present tense instead of past.

  Cooper had caught it, too.

  “Now it’s my turn to apologize.”

  “There’s no need.” Cooper’s face had paled, and as he took a mouthful of his drink, swallowing hastily, he added. “It’s easy to do.”

  “I know, but still. Anyway . . .” I looked around for Sophie, desperately hoping our food would arrive. “I just meant that you shouldn’t feel bad. I grew up with brothers as well.” I offered him a soft smile, hoping it would clear the air. This wasn’t how I wanted this conversation and meeting to go.

  Maybe the best approach would be to treat it like a Band-Aid. Instead of carefully trying to lift the edges, I needed to give it one good rip and be done with it.

  “Speaking of Owen,” I said, diving in.

  “Here you go, guys,” Sophie interrupted.

  The look of gratitude on Cooper’s face was obvious. Thanking the waitress—almost over enthusiastically—he stared down at his plate. There was no more eye contact between us. Part of me whispered to ease up and let the man enjoy his food. But a larger part of me yelled to press on.

  “I know you . . .”

  “If you know, why are you here?” He didn’t give me time to finish before asking his own question.

  “Because you have the answers I need. You were there, Cooper, and that may make me a bitch for wanting you to open up old wounds, but they’re not old for me. They are still big, gaping wounds, and I can’t keep living like this. I loved Owen with all my heart, with every breath I took, but he’s gone, and he’s not coming back. I don’t think it’s selfish for me to want—no, need, a little something that makes moving on easier. I’m sorry it’s you I’m coming to, but you were his best friend. Please, give me something. Anything.”

  My plea came out a little more passionately than I’d intended. My last words seemed to bounce around between us as other patrons turned to look our way. My skin flushed with embarrassment, but I didn’t lower my gaze. He had to know this was painful for me, too.

  Cooper let out a long sigh and took a nervous sip from his drink.

  “Please.”

  “Okay, Caylee,” he murmured, defeated. “What do you need to know?”

  “I know what the official report said about that last day, but what really happened? Enemy fire doesn’t tell me much.”

  “If you understood what you’re asking, you’d know that it explains enough. We were out on patrol, and we walked into an ambush. There were four of us, and once the bullets started flying, we did our best to stay alive.”

  It was difficult ignoring the deadened way he spoke. “Was it quick?”

  “Attacks like that often are. Get in and get out. Do as much damage as you can. We thought it was routine, but I guess they’d been planning it for a while, earning our trust, making us lower our guard somewhat.”

  “Who was?”

  “Insurgents. The enemy. We all knew something didn’t feel right that day. The streets were too quiet.”

  “Cooper?” I reached over to lightly touch his hand, which was clenching his napkin. Even though he was still slouching in his seat, the tension in his body was practically palpable. “Did my Owen suffer?”

  He finally looked up at me, and I regretted asking. I regretted being here. I regretted the tears that flooded his eyes. Even after all this time. My own tears threatened to spill seeing this man, someone who had witnessed so much, barely hold himself together. Suddenly, I didn’t want him to answer. I wanted to protect him. I would move on without whatever he was preparing to say.

  His voice cracked. “I sure as hell hope he didn’t.”

  “Forget it. Seriously, I’m so sorry, Cooper. Let’s just finish our meal and pretend we’re simply two friends catching up.” My apology tumbled out of my mouth as my heart splintered.

  “No, you’re right. You need to move on.”

  “So do you,” I added quickly. “It’s not good to hold this all in.”

  “I’m doing just fine, Caylee. I do what I have to in order to make it through the day.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much fun, though. Barely surviving.” Gone was the need to hear about Owen’s tragic last day. In that moment, all I wanted was to ease Owen’s best friend.

  “It’s not meant to be fun,” Cooper spat out. I was amazed at the intensity of anger I now heard. “Nothing about this is fun.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just know holding on to all your pain can’t make it easy to live.”

  “Well, I guess that’s my punishment.” The second he said it; I saw he instantly regretted it. He’d revealed something he’d wanted to keep secret, hidden.

  “Punishment? Why do you need to be punished?” I gripped his hand tighter now, refusing to let him pull away. “Oh my god. Tell me you don’t blame yourself for Owen’s death.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. I agree, let’s just finish our meal.” Tugging his hand free, he took a bite of his burger, and I wondered if it would choke him. If he felt anything like I did, the huge lump in my throat would make it all but impossible to swallow.

  “Cooper, please.”

  “No, Caylee,” he answered, forcefully. “I came, and although it was difficult, I was ready to give you whatever closure you wanted. I’ll tell you that your husband died in my arms, that I wasn’t in time to save him, and that he loved you. Take what you need from that and move on. Forget about me. And for the love of god, don’t waste your sympathy on me.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He slammed his fist down on the tabletop, causing me and those surrounding us in other booths to jump. “Don’t. Don’t you dare. You have no idea what you’re talking about. No amount of me sharing my feelings over what happened that day will convince me otherwise.”

  “Cooper, I don’t blame you. No one does.”

  “I don’t need your damn forgiveness, Caylee.”

  “I just . . .” I struggled to find the words for what I wanted to say. All my good intentions had exploded. I’d assumed this would be something manageable, but I hadn’t expected the landmine of emotions that now lay bare between us. This was much more complicated.

  “What? Not what you expected? Did you think you could just come and find me merrily going about my life?” His tone still held anger, but it was also heavily laced with pain as he lowered his voice to gi
ve us more privacy.

  “I assumed with . . .”

  Again, he interrupted as years of withheld frustration unleashed. “You assumed because I can wear a smile and pretend that all is right with the world, that I’m functioning. I don’t owe you any explanations, Caylee. But not everyone can let go. Not everyone wants to.”

  “You must think I’m horrible then, that I’m here wanting to move on from losing Owen.”

  “I don’t. Believe me, if anything, I’m envious. I wish I could get rid of this gnawing feeling inside me. If you can find peace, then more power to you. Find your happiness. Just don’t assume that everyone else is searching for it, too.”

  “I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

  His laughter was riddled with bitterness. “I deserve exactly what I have.”

  “And what’s that? Guilt? Shame?”

  Cooper moved his hand abruptly, his stare now accusing. “Is that what this is really about? You’re studying psychology and you thought you’d find a subject in me? Will saving me get you extra credit?”

  His accusation hurt. I could see how he might think that way, and I didn’t know how I could convince him he was wrong. I’d wanted to help myself. It was by accident that I’d discovered his heartache.

  “Please, believe me. That’s not my intention.”

  “Is everything okay here?” Sophie asked, nervously looking between us. I was getting a little tired of being interrupted.

  Cooper glanced up at the waitress and offered a strained smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a scene. We’re fine. The burger’s delicious.” I wouldn’t have blamed Sophie for not believing him. She’d delivered the food ten minutes ago and he’s only taken one bite. I hadn’t even touched my salad.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks.” When Cooper agreed, Sophie moved away, making her rounds to her other customers.

  “I didn’t mean for this, I promise,” I pleaded, desperate for him to understand.

  He brushed his fingers through his hair, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “I know. I didn’t mean to be an asshole, either. I get why you’re here. I do. And, if you give me another chance, I’ll help if I can. Just don’t expect too much, Caylee. Some things run too deep to ever change.”

  I considered his honest admission, knowing what it must have cost him to say it. “How about this? I’m new here in town, and I could use a friendly face. I won’t push you to talk. Share whatever you can, but right now, I have a feeling what we really need is someone who understands.”

  He watched me, uncertainty causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle. “I don’t need a therapist.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m far from qualified, and honestly, it’s not what I want.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “Friends. I want us to be friends.” I let out a loud breath.

  “I thought we already were.”

  “No, we’ve been acquaintances. I know I’m not one of the guys, and I’m not Owen.” I pushed past the pained expression mentioning his name gave Cooper. “But, I think this is what I need.”

  “To be buddies with me?” He cocked his eyebrow.

  “Yes.” The more I thought about it, the more it felt right.

  “I don’t know, Caylee. I don’t think I’m what you need.”

  “I’m not asking for anything but someone I can talk to, maybe hang out with once in a while.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” I countered. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “Don’t do me any favors.”

  “This is about me, Cooper. And honestly, I think I could be a good influence on you, too.” I gave him a smile that I hoped melted his resistance. This conversation had become heavy quickly, and right now, all I wanted was for it to lighten. I was sure both of our hearts would appreciate it.

  My comment did the trick as he tipped his head back and laughed. “What makes you think I need influencing?”

  “I guess we’ll find out. Friends?” I stuck out my hand for him to shake, holding it there as a challenge.

  He seemed to weigh his options, his gaze bouncing back and forth between my face and my outstretched arm. “Just friends, right?”

  “Right.”

  “No turning me into a class project.”

  “I promise.”

  He slowly raised his hand and shook mine. “I hope you realize what you’re asking and don’t regret it in the end. I’m not always the best friend.”

  That haunted sound was back in his voice, but it didn’t matter. “Deal. Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  Not waiting for him, I picked up my fork and speared a sliced cucumber. Still unsure of what had happened, Cooper stared a few moments longer before shaking his head, his frown slowly fading away as he took a large bite of his burger.

  I didn’t know where this new road would take us both, but we’d find out together. Even though what I’d originally planned hadn’t worked out, something told me this was a much better outcome.

  Much better.

  Chapter Five

  Cooper

  I couldn’t keep my thoughts of her from creeping up on me. Despite being adamant that I wanted nothing to do with Caylee, our conversation was never far from my mind. She was a connection to my past—to a friendship I still missed something fierce. And if I paused for a second to be brutally honest, she was the kind of girl I’d want for myself.

  Maybe in another lifetime, I’d have pursued her, chased her down before making her mine, but this wasn’t that lifetime. I couldn’t go there.

  Caylee Sawyer was my dead best friend’s widow, which made her off-limits.

  No matter how many times I caught myself staring at her mouth, imagining what it would be like to kiss, or how I felt long forgotten parts of my heart stir, I couldn’t entertain the idea. Hell, I knew I was courting trouble by simply agreeing to be her friend. There was danger in my future if I wasn’t careful. One of us, even both of us, would end up hurt.

  Since returning home, I’d encased everything inside me—my emotions and deepest desires—in a frozen, impenetrable fortress. I went to work, went home, and played with the band. I drank and played around, but it was never serious. The second the girl showed any signs of wanting a commitment, I was out of there.

  There was only one thing I wanted—to deaden the pain still festering inside. I didn’t want relief. I didn’t want a reprieve. Just moments long enough to forget what a failure I was before it all came crashing back in.

  Some called me a masochist, because of my not wanting to move on and heal.

  Others called me a bitter asshole.

  They were both right.

  With Caylee, though, a niggling thought had rooted itself in the back of my mind, ever-present. I didn’t want her thinking of me that way. I didn’t want her to discover how truly lost I’d become. I didn’t want the rage that boiled beneath the surface to ever touch her.

  This friendship put her at risk. There would be no escaping the pain that came with getting close to me. As I looked around at the people I’d let into my life, I saw what our relationship cost them. They all had wanted more—needed more—than I could give. They’d said they didn’t, but even I could hear the lie buried in their words.

  If I were normal, whole, things would be different.

  But I wasn’t. I’d gone to war one version of myself and then came home another—an empty shell just striving to survive each day. Going through the motions was fine with me—it’s what I deserved after letting down those who trusted me—but others expected more. It wasn’t fair to them.

  “Dude, where the hell are you?” Marty interrupted, scattering my maudlin thoughts to the wind. He was used to me suddenly retreating into my head and didn’t give me too hard of a time over it. He was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend now, and even though we didn’t talk about it, he’d saved my life countless times.

  He
was a better friend than I ever was, despite all my good intentions.

  Maybe that was the bitterest pill to swallow—realizing that it didn’t matter how invincible I believed I was—my confidence had been misplaced, and I’d fucked up.

  All the training and textbook knowledge meant nothing when it was reduced down to a fraction of a microsecond . . . the space between thought . . . the blink of an eye.

  I might have returned home from Afghanistan honorably discharged and thanked for my service, but the war continued inside me. Every day was a battle to survive, to put one foot in front of the other.

  To breathe.

  To offer any kind of hollow smile.

  To find joy in a world shrouded in darkness.

  To not press the barrel of the loaded gun I kept beside my bed against the underside of my jaw and pull the trigger.

  There was no way I could call the past few years living. I was merely existing, going through the motions and sometimes foolishly telling myself that the next day would be different.

  Sooner or later, I will wake up and something will feel different inside me—lighter. I won’t feel the constant pressure weighing me down or the need to flay myself with past mistakes. I’ll be able to move on with my life and find whatever semblance of peace someone like me deserved.

  Deserved.

  That was the key right there.

  It was why I couldn’t believe the lies I told myself when the fog of alcohol and drugs lifted enough for me to take stock of who I’d become.

  Deserved.

  I didn’t deserve peace or happiness. Not with Owen dead and buried.

  Out of everything I’d witnessed and taken part in during my deployments, it was his death that haunted my dreams.

  When I slept. Even that was hit and miss.

  How the fuck did I atone for that? For any of it?

  Survivor’s guilt. That was the horseshit label the doctor had scribbled in my file. He’d told me it was normal, and that given time, I’d let go and move on. That one day I’d believe it wasn’t my fault, that Owen wouldn’t want me to carry the burden of his death.

  He’d also begged me to let go as my fingers tightened in the front of his shirt, rage boiling through my system. I hadn’t even remembered snapping or attacking him. One moment, he was escorting me out, our hour-long session and evaluation over, and the next, he was pressed against the wall, my face inches away from his.