by K. S. Thomas
Ed still won’t shut up though. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because,” I bite out through clenched teeth, “Nothing that pretty can come from the ugly shit that brought us together. Fine, we’re bonded for life. So what?! She deserves better. She deserves the fucking fairy tale. A real life fucking love story she can tell her grandkids someday, And I’ll be damned before I ever let it start with ‘once upon a time, in a dark, dirty closet’.”
My anger is all the drive I need to finally push that button down. The ball game is practically bouncing off the walls when Cooper walks back in the room, still clutching the pretzels in one hand and having added a glass of chocolate milk in the other. She’s weird like that. And Reed better fucking appreciate it.
Reed
Present Day
I wake up in her bed. Alone. If it wasn’t for the hot pink furry pillow stuck to the side of my face, I’d have thought maybe I was dreaming. Maybe she was still just a dream. But this pillow is definitely real, so Cooper has to be as well. She’s just not here. Which begs the question, where did she go?
I sit up, spitting polyester pink threads to keep from choking on them. It doesn’t pay to sleep with your mouth open.
“Cooper?” I call out, still grabbing at my tongue with my fingertips, trying to grasp a rogue thread.
She comes whipping out from behind a corner, a towel in her hands, drying her wet hair.
“Did I wake you?” She cringes. “I totally did. I knew it as soon as I dropped my brush on the tile floor. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. Or rather do be. Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” I ask, strolling up to her and placing my hands on her warm body just as soon as she’s within reach. I feel better already. I don’t even care about the irritating sensation in the back of my throat which can only be caused by fake pink fur.
The towel hangs limp at her side as her hips push into me and she grins sheepishly. “You just looked so adorable, I couldn’t do it.”
I roll her back and forth between my palms and fingertips, swaying her body from side to side and enjoying the friction the soft skin of her exposed tummy creates against my own. “Alright then, new question. What are you doing up and about so early?”
She tips her head back, looking up at me surprised. “I have work to do. My shop won’t open itself.” She laughs. It’s by far the best laugh I think I’ve ever heard. My sister has a fun laugh. Quirky, almost strange, the sort of laugh that makes you crack up just hearing it, but Cooper’s is downright melodic. Gives a whole new meaning to the term music to my ears.
“Cooper Ceramics. That’s right.” I want to guess what she sells most of, what her specialty item is. Mugs? Vases? Fancy Tea pots. I want to guess and be right because I should be able to do that, I should just know. But I don’t. I don’t have a fucking clue. If I hadn’t known before coming here she had Cooper Ceramics, I never would have pegged her for being an artist; for crafting something with her own two hands. And I realize this is part of the reality. Our reality. You can’t miss seven years with someone and still expect to know every aspect of their lives inside and out. But I feel like I should. Because being with her doesn’t feel like I’ve spent seven years without her. It just feels right. Like we’ve always been this way. Always been us.
“What about you?” she asks, pulling me from my train of thought.
“I don’t have a shop.”
She smacks my arm playfully. “You know what I mean.”
“Family business.” I reach down to take her hand, sliding my fingers in and out of hers. I’m obsessed with touching her. Feeling her. For so long she was barely a tangible thought, and now she’s here. It’s like part of me is scared she’ll float away again, get lost in the mess of my missing memories.
“You went to work with your dad?” Her bottom lip curls in on one side and she bites down on it. Like she’s trying to hide a frown.
“Why? Was that not always the plan?” Because that’s the version I heard. The only version. From everyone. All I ever wanted to be while growing up, was just like my dad, running the family business one day. I’m not quite there yet, but I’ve definitely got the ball rolling. And, I like it well enough. Not to mention, there are perks that come with being the boss’s kid. Like unlimited vacation time when you decide to run out on your wedding to track down your long-lost love instead.
She shrugs. “It wasn’t not the plan.” She turns away and I get the feeling there’s more she’s not telling me.
“Hey, come back here,” I mumble, tugging at the hand I still have curled around my fingers. “What don’t you want to say? Because you probably should. In fact, I’d really appreciate if you did. You may be the first person I’ve spoken to that I can completely trust about the me I was before...I became the me I am now.”
She sighs, an exceptionally long sigh. Then, she takes an equally long breath of air back in to replenish her body’s oxygen supply, which after that sigh was probably wiped out.
“Your dad always wanted you to take over the business. It was his dream. Not yours.” She looks up at me and I see sadness and even pity mingling in her eyes. “It’s part of the reason we were eloping. To start our own adventure. To give you a chance to find your own dream.”
It takes a second for the words to settle. Even once they do, I’m not sure how I feel about them. If what she’s saying is true, my family hasn’t just been avoiding things they thought were too painful to face, as my sister would have me believe. They’ve straight out lied to me. Manipulated me in a time when I was vulnerable and completely at their mercy. I’m not sure I’m ready to consider this a possibility yet. Though, I can tell from the look on her face, it’s exactly the conclusion she’s drawn about them.
Cooper
“Are you happy?” I ask, doing my best to smile and reassure him. Just because it wasn’t what he’d wanted before the accident doesn’t mean it hasn’t suited him perfectly ever since. It’s just hard not to jump to negative conclusions after all I went through with his family. His parents especially. They hated me. Before we ever even met face to face, they hated me. I don’t foresee that changing anytime in the future. Especially now.
“I thought I was.” His tone is quiet and unsure and his shoulders sag ever so slightly, signaling a sense of defeat. “Then, I found you. And all the things I thought were perfectly fine, suddenly don’t seem perfect or fine at all. Except you.”
My heart aches for him. It’s strange, seeing him so lost. Reed was never lost. Even when he didn’t know where he was headed, he always knew exactly where he was. Who he was. And being with him, it made me feel like I was some place too. Not just a no name girl in a system overflowing with kids who didn’t matter, didn’t count. Who had a better chance of winding up dead or in jail than they ever had a chance at a real future. A real life. Reed was my anchor. It’s tragically poetic and strangely just that I would get to be his now.
“I’m not perfect,” I remind him, though knowing he truly believes it brings an undeniable smile to my face. “And most days I’m far from fine. It just seems that way because you’re here. You make things fine for me, too.” I cup his cheek in my hand, the soft bristles of his hair brushing against the inside of my palm. “Let’s just take it one day at a time for now. See what feels good. What feels right. You lost your entire life in the course of one night and were handed a very basic blueprint to rebuild. Let’s scrap the plans and just wing it. Forget worrying about who you were before. Who do you want to be now?”
He turns his face into my hand and kisses it gently. “I want to be the man you choose today and every day for the rest of your life. Whoever that is, that’s who I want to be.”
“You’re already that man,” I say, forcing out a sadness which continues to leak through every time I’m reminded of the choice I’ve made. Reed. Over Gun. An impossible choice. And while the sentiment behind being chosen day after day seems romantic, it’s also the only way I can make it. One day at a time. Becau
se I can get through the day without Gun. But I can’t face a lifetime the same way. And deep down, I know that. I just don’t know what to do about it.
My thoughts begin to spiral when I feel his forehead resting on mine.
“Let’s forget about me for the moment. I want to talk about you. Your adventures. Ceramics. Is that something you did before the accident. Was opening your own shop always a dream you had?” he asks quietly.
I close my eyes and clear my mind. I can’t follow my current trail of thoughts even when it does lead to the answers he wants. Or maybe because they do. I want to tell him. I just wish I could leave out the most crucial parts.
“No. Ceramics just sort of happened.” I glance down at my wrist and the faded scar marking a poignant twist of fate along my lifeline. “I nearly lost my hand in the accident. Took a couple surgeries and a lot of rehab to save it. And, for a long while, I didn’t really care if they did or not, so I wasn’t exactly helping the healing process much.” I hold out my arm to show him. He runs his thumb back and forth over the seam of skin, that one small strip that held on even when I didn’t. “Gun was constantly coming up with new ways to try and trick me into doing my exercises. I had everything from stress balls to Rubik’s cubes thrust in my direction, the whole apartment was littered with anything and everything that might land at my fingertips during an absentminded moment of boredom. And there were plenty of those.” Didn’t matter how many people came to visit me, or how much chocolate Mags tried to cram down my throat, inside my head I was the only one, struggling to understand the wicked ways of fate and how I could have every dream coming true one minute just to have them lost to me forever the next. I didn’t want to be happy. Or entertained. Stewing in misery seemed like the only appropriate thing to be doing.
“So, what happened? Someone signed you up for pottery classes?” Reed asks. There’s more to his question. Someone. Someone other than Gun. He’s not going to like my answer, but I won’t lie about this.
“Play-Doh.” I squeeze my hand into a fist, remembering how hard it used to be and reveling in the strength it’s regained over the years. Play-Doh. “One day, I just started playing with it. Purple. I liked the color. I remember it was the reason I reached for it, fussed with the lid long enough to actually get it open.” My eyes travel to the book case along the back wall. I saved it. One little jar of purple Play-Doh is still sitting up on the top shelf between my Harry Potter books and every Sidney Sheldon Novel ever written. It’s a special shelf.
“I guess I can see how one led to the other,” Reed says with a small smile. He’s trying to appreciate the story, but I know it’s hard.
“Happened faster than you might imagine. Wanting to create, it was like this buried passion I had no idea even lived inside of me. The better I got, the more I wanted to do and the more I wanted to do, the better my hand had to get.”
“All thanks to good ol’ Gun.” As soon as he says it I know he wants to take it back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Of course, I’m grateful he was there, that he helped you get better. It’s just...”
“Hard.”
“Yeah.”
My mind starts racing, trying to think of something else to say, some other way to spin the outcome to help him feel better about it, about where I am now and what I’m doing with my life. Gun may have helped set me on this path, but as soon as I was on it, I knew it was always meant for me. My choices have led me here more than anything else.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you get ready for the day while I run down to the bakery on the corner to grab us breakfast and then we can both head downstairs to the shop and you can kind of explore for yourself.”
His head lifts and he smiles. God I love that smile. My heart feels lighter already.
“Sounds perfect. Just give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready for the day.” He kisses my cheek as he releases me. “And ready for our new adventure.” He winks sending a flutter through the pit of my stomach and up into my throat. It’s like being seventeen all over again.
I watch until he disappears in the small hall leading to the master bath before I get a grip and get back to my morning routine. I shake out my hair. It’s still wet, but in the summer heat and sunshine it’ll be dry by the time I walk back here from the bakery.
Not wanting to disturb Reed in the bathroom, I drape my damp towel over a chair in the corner which usually serves as a halfway stop between my closet and hamper, and make my way toward the front door. One quick swipe over my lips with the rose-tinted lip balm I keep in the bowl officially designated for keys, but actually serving as a catch all for everything pocket size, and I can grab my phone and debit card on my way out the door.
I’m skipping my way down the steps, basking in the warmth Reed has left tingling at my core when I hear the door to Cammie’s place open and stop on her floor.
“Good God, woman, I thought a herd of kangaroos was coming down the stairs,” she teases, walking out onto the landing to meet me. “Where you bouncing off to this morning?” She stretches to the left to look over my shoulder. “And why are you alone?”
“Getting breakfast. Reed’s just jumping in the shower.” I start back on the steps heading down and Cammie follows.
“Um, you don’t find naked Reed in a steamy shower more appealing than pastries?” She’s got her brow cocked high and one side of her mouth is hitched up to match it.
My cheeks instantly feel the burn of a blush. “Cammie!”
“What?” Now her other brow comes up to meet the rogue one and she moves from disbelief to innocence. “Don’t tell you haven’t...ya know.”
“No. We haven’t.” We’ve engaged in some piping hot make-out sessions though.
Her hand lands on my arm to stop me just before we reach ground level. “What? Why not?”
I shrug her off, releasing an audibly exasperated breath. “Cammie! He’s been back in my life for all of twenty-four hours. Don’t you think we’ve had more important things to worry about than sex?”
“No,” she deadpans. “I’ve seen the man. Trust me, climbing on top of him would be the only thing on my mind right now if I were you.”
“Well, I’m not you.” My words are clipped and frustrated. Is she right? Should my mind be more occupied with images of his naked body covered in pearls of hot water right now? Should my own body be dragging me up the stairs and into the shower to be tangled up with his? Is that what he wants? What he’s hoping?
“Coop?” Cammie’s stern voice scrapes my streaming mind back into focus.
“Yeah?”
“What’s really going on? Is this still about feeling guilty over Gun? Because if you can’t be happy and move forward with this amazing twist of fate, then you hurt him for nothing and then you really do have something to feel guilty about.”
I stretch my leg out and drop it down to the bottom, finally landing on solid ground with a plop. Feels exceptionally appropriate somehow. To fall. Land with very limited grace. Intentionally. That’s me. Always being slightly sucky. Maybe not on purpose, but always fully aware of my shortcomings.
“It’s not about feeling guilty. Although, thanks for that. I was looking for more ways to drown inside the spiraling thoughts of my tangly, troubled mind.” I scrub my hands over my face, trying to wipe away any and all emotions resting on the surface. If I’d known I was going to be analyzed by Cammie first thing this morning, I would have put a paper bag over my head before walking out the door.
“Come on.” She tugs my elbow to get me moving again. “I’ll walk with you. We’ll get a coffee and you can talk. Just, whatever comes out – I’ll listen. No judgement, I swear. But you gotta get out what’s going on in that weird-ass head of yours. You can’t just wait for Gun to come along and read your mind anymore. That’s done. And it’s okay. You can do this without him. I promise.” She nudges my hip with hers and smiles. I almost believe her. I’m also reminded of just how annoying I find him and his mind reading abilities.
&n
bsp; “For the record, I always hated that. Did I get used to it? Sure. Did it save me some time sorting through my own thoughts and going through the trouble of verbalizing them? Absolutely. But do I wish I’d had the privilege of privacy when it came to my own goddamn thoughts?! Hell, yes! And that goes for you too. Butt out of my brain.” As soon as the words are out, I want to recant them. “At least until I invite you in,” I mutter, purposely looking straight ahead so I don’t see her smirking at me. Open book. I’m a fucking open book. And I hate it.
Chapter Eleven
Gun
7 Years Earlier
“What do you mean, you’re leaving? You can’t leave. Leaving. That’s the thing we don’t do. Ever. Unless we do it together...and I don’t remember you inviting me to tag along this time.”
Cooper practically drapes her entire body over my bag, sprawling out her arms and legs in hopes it will deter me from packing.
“You’re being dramatic.” I grab her knee and flip it back, tossing the rest of her along with it, straight into my pillows. She’s lucky I moved the bag to the bed before she got here, otherwise her landing would have been a little less comfortable and likely too close to the hamper for her to appreciate. “I’m not leaving forever. It’s nine weeks. That’s all.”
She scrambles back into an upright position, pouting, but forgoing any more physical protesting for the moment. “That’s longer than we’ve ever been apart, Gun. Nine weeks...that’s like three months!”
I stop stuffing socks into the end pocket of my duffel bag and stare at her. “Your math sucks. Seriously, how are you graduating in ten days? Nine weeks doesn’t come close to three months, it’s barely more than two.”
She shrugs. “See, I need you to stay and tutor me in math.”
I resume my stuffing of the socks. She’s being ridiculous. “Coop, I can’t stay. You know that. This isn’t even up to me, it’s up to Mr. B.” I zip up the end pocket with the sort of grandeur I hope will translate into zipping up this conversation.