Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) (31 page)

I wanted to hug her.

I wanted to pour out my gratitude with words I knew would never be enough.

This was a woman who had once been a stranger doing her job, but had become family to me.

The thought of her leaving without fully knowing how much I loved her . . . how deep my gratitude ran . . . it was almost unbearable.

“I know,” she whispered. “Now, go live and be happy.”

More tears streaked down my face, the wall I kept every emotion blocked behind dismantled and gone. I didn’t want to pretend that this didn’t affect me. My time here had been life changing.

“I will,” I murmured to an empty chapel, Susan gone to resume her duties. “I will.”

It was a promise I intended to keep.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cooper

Standing in line to pass through airport security, I wasn’t expecting to hear my name hollered out.

I was grateful my parents understood why I wasn’t going home with them when they came to pick me up. Neither of them really needed an explanation once I shared my plans. They were simply happy to see me in one piece and focused, a stark difference from the way they’d last seen me in the hospital.

My mother had held me tight and whispered that she loved me. Many tears were shed, but they agreed.

This trip was long over due and needed to be done before I talked myself out of it.

Getting out of line, I turned around to see Marty barreling toward me almost at a dead run. Then, before I could say anything—apologize for the way we left things—he dragged me into his embrace.

He grinned. “Your mom called and let me know where you were going. I couldn’t let you leave without wishing you luck. I’m so fucking proud of you, man.” He slowly released me and punched my arm.

I stammered, scrambling to find the words I’d rehearsed. This wasn’t the way I thought this would play out. “Marty . . .” I started, my mouth dry.

Marty raised his hand to stop me. “Save it, Coop. There’s plenty of time for us to talk it out and everything. I’m sure you’ll apologize and grovel and say what an asshole you were. Then I’ll agree, give you some kind of menacing look, and then we’ll be fine. Bromance intact.”

“Or something like that,” I admitted, relief coursing through me. I should’ve trusted that our friendship ran deeper and could survive my stint in Psycho Town. He’d been with me from the beginning, stuck through everything when it had been too raw to endure. Once again, my own insecurities had surfaced, and I smiled knowing I had new experiences to draw from.

Marty and I would be okay.

There were still things to say, but for now, they could wait while I took care of more urgent business.

“You sure you want to go alone? I can go buy a ticket and come with you. You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

I didn’t know what to say, suddenly choked up. It was my turn to pull him into a hug, overcome with how easily he forgave.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you, Marty. Thank you. Thank you for offering. Thank you for not beating my ass even though I know I deserve it.”

“You do, but hey, we’re best friends. I’ve got your back. Always will.” There was no shuffling awkwardly—two men embarrassed by the emotion and sentiments being exchanged. We didn’t have to. We were brothers . . . family.

“I’d say I owed you a beer, but I’m kinda taking a break from all that,” I answered, amazed at how easy that had been. Where drinking had been such a big part of what we did together, I’d worried about broaching the subject. Part of my recovery and healing meant finding new ways to cope with stress.

“We can become the two dudes that drink tea or something. We can have matching tea sets. Bake scones and shit. Be real civilized and fancy.” And, holding up his pinky, Marty pretended to sip from an imaginary cup. “Make our mothers proud.”

“I’ll get right on Amazon and order us some,” I joked in return. Which made me think of
her
. The one person I hadn’t been brave enough to ask about.

True to form, I didn’t need to utter her name. Marty already knew. “She’s okay.” He didn’t offer any more details. It was enough.

Nodding, I swallowed hastily. “Good.” I wasn’t ready to ask more. Maybe after this trip, I would.

I knew I would.

“So, you didn’t answer me, do you need me to come with you?” Marty reached around to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.  “With you gone for the past month, I’ve been making my own changes and I’ve got money to burn. This is a good cause.” He watched me, hopeful.

As much as I wanted him to join me and act as a buffer, this was a journey I needed to do myself. “God, yes. I’d appreciate it, but no.” I shook my head and quickly glanced back at the security line. It was starting to grow longer. “I think this is one of those things best done alone. But would you do me a favor and swing back here in a few days and pick me up? We can talk then.”

There was no trying to convince me to let him tag along. Only acceptance. Damn, I’d missed him.

“Sure. Shoot me a text when you land and let me know your flight details. I know your mom mentioned something about a welcome home dinner once you get back. Just so you know.” He winked, and I laughed.

I’d definitely missed her cooking. The mere thought of it made my mouth water and it filled my heart like some kind of healing elixir. Things would return to normal, again.

Only this time, I was different.

Better.

More myself than I had ever been.

An announcement over the loudspeaker drew our attention. It had nothing to do with my flight, but it signaled the urge to get moving. We were okay. I could do this. I had people who still loved me and would be here when I got home.

Support.

After everything I’d put them through, I was grateful to know they’d never left.

“Okay, man, I better get going.” I reached down for my bag and slung the strap over my shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

Marty gave me a nod. “Don’t need to, Cooper. You’ve got this. Go make peace with your past.”

“Love you,” I uttered, catching him by surprise.

“Fucking love you, too, bro.”

Then, turning around to join the line, I let out a long breath.

I could do this.

I’d gone over this with Dr. Nicholas, mulling it over and over whenever I wasn’t in session or in group.

I didn’t know what I’d find when I arrived, but that didn’t matter.

Each journey started with that first step.

I was determined to see this through to the end.

****

I planted my feet on the doorstep, ignoring every instinct to run as I knocked hesitantly on the white painted door.

There were a million places I would have rather been than here. There were locations I’d dreamed about and had on my bucket list—each of them a more welcoming sight than this one.

As soon as the door opened, there would be no going back. It was hard not to bend to the side and empty the contents of my stomach when I heard the sound of approaching feet.

I was a bundle of nerves and flashes of possible outcomes flickered through my mind. I’d stewed over it in my head during the flight—conversations that ended with hurt and blame . . . discussions that resulted in genuine forgiveness and acceptance.

Frankly, I was hoping for somewhere in between. I was too jaded to truly believe mercy was within my reach.

After all, I was responsible for the death of their son.

Or at least, been there, unable to prevent it from happening.

“It wasn’t your fault, Cooper,” I muttered beneath my breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet, waiting as the door slowly opened.

Marie greeted me with a shocked look on her face. Clearly, I was the last person she expected to find at her home. But instead of condemnation and rage, she almost seemed relieved to see me—like somehow she’d also been waiting for this moment.

“Cooper.” She smiled and stepped forward to hug me. “This is a lovely surprise. Are you here alone?” She peered around me, found nothing, and glanced back.

“Yes, Mrs. Sawyer. It’s just me. I figured it was time that we talked. I kind of have some things to share with you and your husband.” With each syllable, I felt a much needed comfort settle over me, fortifying me, giving me a dose of courage that made crossing the threshold into Owen’s childhood home a little easier.

Even with frames of him hanging on the wall—one of them his and Caylee’s wedding photo—I managed to place one foot in front of the other. I’d come so far, both physically and mentally. I was still a Marine, albeit one pieced back together. I could do this.

One breath at a time.

“Joshua, we have a visitor,” Marie called out, guiding me into the cozy family room where her husband was relaxing on a recliner, watching ESPN. “You might want to turn the T.V. off for this.”

The older man started to argue, but when he turned and saw me standing there, my gaze reluctantly meeting his, he obeyed without question. Again, for the second time that day, I was stunned into silence.

“Son, how I have longed for this day.” And rising from his seat, he closed the distance and pulled me into an embrace I never wanted to end. It said everything. It broke me. It tore down any hastily erected ideas that this would be a battle and left us all emotional.

“Sir,” I began, hoping to find something . . . anything to say. This conversation was one that should’ve been said years ago had I not been a coward and caught up in my own grief. “I am so sorry. Just so sorry.”

“I know, Cooper. I know.” He didn’t let me go. I didn’t pull away. Together we cried, and another chip in my armor fell free, one I hadn’t realized still lingered. “It’s okay, son. I know you did the best you could.”

Marie approached from the side, making sure I saw her coming. Even after all this time, she remembered that even though the deployment was over, care was still necessary.

Despite the fact, for her, Owen was gone and such awareness wasn’t needed.

It made me sob harder for what she’d lost—Owen’s family had lost—and yes, for what I had lost.

“He loved you so much and he’d be happy to know you were here.” Her voice was soft and calming, her own tears spilling over her cheeks.

“I should’ve come sooner. Straight away. Done more. Said more.” Now that I was here, there was no holding back.

“You did what you could. We knew when you were ready, that you’d show up. We’ve been patient. We knew.” Finally, releasing his tight hold, Joshua rested his hand along the side of my face. “My boy. You were my boy, too.”

I nodded and, in that moment, I vowed to make him proud as well.

Gathering ourselves, we each took a seat and visited, exchanging small pleasantries and what each of us had been up to in the past few months. When I shared I’d finally hit rock bottom and admitted myself into a treatment facility, I thought I’d see pity in their eyes.

Instead, I found nothing but respect. This wasn’t going at all how I had imagined.

“Cooper,” Marie spoke, glancing first at her husband and then at me. “I feel I need to apologize to you as well.”

I almost choked when she said it. “What for?” I felt my eyes widen, unable to comprehend her meaning.

“For all those times I called you. I wasn’t myself and it seemed easier to pour my grief into blaming someone else. You. Hearing you share your struggles and what you’ve been through since coming home, I feel sick that I contributed to that. I didn’t mean to. I hope you can forgive me.”

Her admission could’ve knocked me over with a feather. “Honestly? I believed I deserved it. He died in my arms and I wasn’t able to stop it. I’ve relived those last few minutes . . . that entire patrol . . . countless times, hoping to uncover some missed opportunity where I could’ve saved him, or taken his place.”

It was Joshua who jumped in. “And did you ever find what you were looking for?”

Shaking my head, I studied the glass I was holding, knowing it didn’t hold the answer. “No, sir.”

“That’s because there wasn’t one. You did everything you could. Sometimes tragedies happen. Unfortunately, Owen got caught in the crossfire.” Even now, the death of his son caused sorrow in his voice.

I understood what he was saying, but that wasn’t the point I was trying to convey. “True, but that’s not why I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t find the solution because I never stopped searching. Every truth that surfaced was unacceptable so I squashed it . . . dismissed it . . . hanging on even tighter to my guilt. I refused to acknowledge the fact that it wasn’t anyone’s fault, except the one who pulled the trigger.”

“But you do now?” Marie interrupted, her hand firmly in her husband’s grasp. “Please tell me that you finally accept that as the only truth. Please. It breaks my heart that you’ve carried the blame for so long when it wasn’t yours to carry.”

I took a sip of sweet tea, using it as an excuse to unclench my jaw and gather my thoughts. I’d said it so easily to Susan back at Fairview, but that was when I was still fully protected in the bubble of therapy.

This was the real world—often a lot less gentle.

I searched my feelings, hoping that I could answer them with as much conviction as I had with Susan. My hands trembled when I found I wasn’t lacking.

“It wasn’t my fault. Yes, I’m desperately sorry that he died. Owen was my best friend. He was my brother. I loved him and did everything within my power to make sure he survived that ambush. But I didn’t pull that trigger. And—” My voice gave out and I bravely swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I know the way I can honor his memory is to stop punishing myself for it.”

An enormous weight lifted from my shoulders.

I’d said it out loud to Owen’s parents—the two people who needed to hear it the most.

It didn’t matter that it had taken this long to say it. It was done and, hopefully, it signaled the closing of a painful and bittersweet chapter in my life.