There was a period where I thought I’d never hear those words again . . . never feel this incredible sense of peace and belonging. I’d told myself it was okay, that at least I’d experienced what I believed to be a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. Soul mates just didn’t simply come along every day—showing up around every corner. Not that Cooper and I were at a point where we were making this heartfelt declaration, but the possibility was there. I felt it deep down—all the ingredients of a happily-ever-after.
Maybe just thinking it was enough to jinx it, to send out some cosmic beacon to Fate that screamed, Come destroy this. I dare you. Heaven forbid I ever find happiness again.
But wasn’t that what taking a leap of faith was all about? The risk of opening up to someone else and making yourself vulnerable—of letting them in despite the fear of getting hurt?
Cooper was worth throwing myself off the cliff of uncertainty, trusting that the free fall would land us both somewhere miraculous, that Cupid would extend his mercy again and bring two hearts together.
We were never going to remain just friends. Our conversation from months ago where I’d come looking for closure had evolved into something much richer and more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined.
And here we were—here I was—blissfully content.
A whisper breezed through my mind . . . a split second of realization before it crashed over me. While Owen was never far from my thoughts, that painful ache that had been resident in my chest since finding out about his death was gone. It had healed. Memories of him and who we had been together no longer felt like a vise grip suffocating my spirit.
I’d let him go and in return, he’d removed the sting of his death and left his blessing. This would be what he wanted—for me not to lock away my heart, refusing to give romance a second chance.
I didn’t love Cooper the same way I did Owen, both of them different, and that was okay. I wasn’t meant to. I understood that now.
They didn’t compete—they each bought something special to my life, each teaching me something in their own way.
Owen taught me that no matter how much it hurt, how easy it would’ve been to crumble under the weight of death and simply give up; there was a strange kind of beauty to grief. Like a lump of black coal placed under an overwhelming pressure evolved into a sparkling, polished diamond, my mourning had performed the same miracle.
I felt shiny right now—different and more like the person I was meant to be.
Cooper . . . my sweet, complicated Cooper . . . he taught me that sometimes love didn’t come easy, that if I wanted something, even if I wasn’t sure why I did, not to shrink from the challenge. No matter the obstacle—some things, some people, were absolutely worth the fight and patience.
I couldn’t imagine walking away from that diner—away from him—from this. And deep down, I knew Cooper felt the same. It was in his eyes every time he looked at me, each time he spoke my name or held me in his arms. I was every inch as important to him as he was to me.
No missed opportunities for us. Wherever this path led, the future didn’t scare me anymore—there were just too many things to look forward to.
To wish and pray for.
“Who’s ready for a surprise?” Cian’s question caught my attention, his chuckle amplified over the large speakers. I wasn’t the only one who momentarily stopped swaying to see what he meant. “Who here has heard of Damaged Souls?”
Cooper’s body stiffened behind me and I felt a brief flash of alarm. What the hell? Glancing up, his brows were furrowed. He had no idea what was going on. Neither did Marty or the others.
A scattering of whoops and whistles shot across the audience, including Rebecca’s. I did the same—throwing my arms in the air in support—screaming like the fan girl I was.
“For those who haven’t, you’re in for a treat. Trust me . . . remember the name Damaged Souls. These guys are going to fucking take the world by storm, but first . . . Cooper Hensley . . . where are you, man?” A spotlight flitted about until it landed on us, causing everyone’s eyes to zero in on Cooper and me.
So that’s what it must feel like when he’s on stage performing.
Cooper raised his arm, waving to everyone.
“Get your ass up here and sing with me.” When Cooper didn’t move, glancing over at his friends and band mates, Cian added. “Looks like he needs a little convincing, everyone!”
The response was deafening as people started chanting his name, stomping their feet in time with their hands as they clapped and cheered.
“You okay with me going up there?” he murmured in my ear.
“If you don’t, I’ll drag you up there myself!” I retorted with an enthusiastic grin. “People need to see how awesome you and band are.”
“Do it!” Marty called out. Troy and Aidan gave their thumbs up. While the whole band wasn’t going up onto the stage, they knew the same as I did—Cooper would do us proud and bring the group more exposure.
Kissing the side of my head, Cooper made his way through the crowd, jogging to the edge of the stage before heaving himself up. There was time for a quick man hug, both guys slapping each other on the back, exchanging a few private words. The drummer did a soft rift on his kit, holding the cymbal at the end as he waited.
“Everyone, meet Cooper Hensley. I had the chance to hear him and his band mates—“ The spotlight returned to our small circle of friends, this time highlighting Marty, Troy, and Aidan. “—at Rock-A-Palooza earlier this year—” More exuberant whoops echoed through the space causing Cian to laugh into his microphone. “Exactly.”
The faint strum of a guitar followed as the base guitarist took the brief respite to quickly tune his instrument.
When the crowd simmered down again, Cian continued. “And ever since I’ve been jonesing for the chance to do this. What do you say, Coop? Think they can handle it?”
Cooper was in his element. He now wore the persona I’d affectionately dubbed as his sexy rock god look. He was still him, but addictive sex appeal and charm practically oozed from him each time he took center stage. It’s like he came alive.
He’d once shared that it felt like a switch flipped and everything else melted away. It was one of the purest sensations—void of demons and whatever baggage he carried. Nothing else mattered but the music swelling inside him and it gave him the chance to breathe.
And it stole the breath of everyone who witnessed it. There was no ignoring the fact that a lot of the screaming still happening was from women. They liked what they saw—a new guy to add to their fantasy bank for lonely nights.
I usually squashed the gloating thoughts that came whenever he drew attention from the opposite sex. I’d been raised not to brag and boast, that just because I had something someone else wanted, didn’t mean I had to lift myself up in pride.
But damn it, he was mine. That man who everyone was leaning forward to hear sing—anticipation lighting up their faces—I’d be going home with him.
As he found me in the crowd, locking gazes, there was no need to ever worry he’d stray. Cooper only had eyes for me.
“Oh, your boyfriend’s a rockstar, Caylee!” Brooklyn teased. When Cooper had left to join Cian, she’d scooted over with Six beside her.
“Almost as cool as an exotic dancer for a boyfriend, huh?” I replied, wetting my lips. Sooner or later I was going to need something to drink, but there was no way I was going to miss this. I stared back at Cooper, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet, waiting.
“We should form a club or something,” she whispered, and I nodded, opening my mouth to reply that we should—that it would be fun to get together, drink wine, and exchange stories about our lives.
The guys on stage stopped that. The crowd was sufficiently warmed up and impatient for them to sing. I was, too.
“Only way to know is to do it.” He smiled, answering Cian’s question. “Ready?”
“Hell yeah!” Cian thundered, signaling the band to start playing
. “This one goes out to all the ladies.”
I screamed. I couldn’t help it. The song choice . . . it had to have been Cooper who suggested it because it was one of my favorites. Just the other day, I’d sung it for him, giving him an impromptu show as I danced around him. His response was to take the title literally, whisking me off to his bedroom where time stood still.
It always stood still when we were alone and intimate.
As Cian began Lay Me Down by Sam Smith, I closed my eyes, letting the melody brush over me, enveloping me with the seductive words. It wasn’t until Cooper took over that I opened them again.
He was staring at me. As far as he was concerned, I was the only one in the room and this was his plea—that all he wanted was to lay by my side forever—that he didn’t want to be where I wasn’t.
The crowd faded away.
Tears filled my eyes. Big, fat, happy ones.
Goosebumps rippled across my skin.
He was creating magic. Hell, he was magic.
“Damn, Caylee,” Brooklyn uttered, just as transfixed as I was. “He’s incredible.”
“I know.”
And he was mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Cooper
She was a mess—a very drunk, affectionate mess.
From the second we’d entered the elevator, Caylee had been like a livewire in my arms. After pressing every single button, but the one for our floor, she’d laughed each time we hit a new level—the compartment coming to a stop before carrying on. At this rate, we’d be stuck riding the casino’s elevator for the next few hours—much to her exasperation.
“Oooh, this is my favorite song . . . ev-er!” Caylee drawled, her words slurred by the insane amount of tequila she’d drunk at the after party. “And who the hell pressed all the buttons?” Usually, she was much more reserved—watching how much alcohol she consumed—but tonight’s theme overruled any pre-conceived notion of being responsible. Caylee had thrown caution to the wind and, between her, Brooklyn, and Rebecca, I’m surprised there was anything left on the bar’s shelf.
I liked to think it was a sign of how much Caylee truly trusted me—that she could let go knowing I would take care of her. It struck hard at my sense of pride. She had no qualms and complete faith.
It felt good.
The song currently playing over the elevator’s speakers was one I’d heard on the radio . . . a popular tune that had taken the world by storm. It was impossible to go through your day without hearing it somewhere. Judging from the way Caylee slowly swayed back and forth, mouthing the lyrics, she hadn’t escaped it either.
“Ugh.” Discomfort filled her features as she placed her hand over her stomach. “I don’t feel so good, Cooper. Make me feel better. Work your magic.” Grabbing my hand, Caylee kissed each of my fingers, a seductive smile spreading across her face, replacing the momentary distress from seconds earlier. “Fingers. Did you know you have magical fingers, Co-ooop-er?” She was adorable when she was intoxicated.
“I’m glad you approve, sweetheart,” I answered, tightening my arm around her waist. I’d tried letting her stand when we’d first entered the small space, but when she’d almost crumpled to the ground, her knees giving way, it became apparent that it was up to me to keep her upright.
“I love it when you touch me. Have I ever told you that before? It doesn’t matter where . . . just that you do. See!” Caylee exclaimed loudly, giggling at how forceful it sounded. She shoved her arm up into my face and I brushed my thumb over her skin before lowering it back to her side. “Goose bumps. You give me big ol’ goose bumps and I love it. We should change your name to King He-Makes-Me-Quiver, because that’s what you do.” Caylee leaned in like we were joint conspirators and whispered in hushed tones, “Down there. You know. There.” She wiggled her eyebrows before relaxing into me with a heavy sigh. “Did I tell you how magic your fingers are?”
It was hard not to laugh. This was definitely a side of my girlfriend I hadn’t had a chance to experience yet. People said that drinking tequila was a sure fire way to end up naked. Not with Caylee, she became a chatterbox. Part of me wondered just how much of this she’d remember in the morning once she sobered up.
“You did.” Pressing on our floor button again, I was impatient to get her back to the privacy of our room. The sooner I could get her hydrated and tucked into bed, the quicker she could start feeling better. While she was flying high right now without a care in the world, the crash was coming and it would be brutal. “Not much longer.”
Headache. Nausea. A longing for death and the sweet mercy it brought.
All trademark consequences of a classic hangover.
Her’s would be a doozy.
“Cooper?” she murmured against my chest. “Tonight was fun.” Before I had a chance to reply, she continued, exhaling again dramatically, “I drank too much, but I don’t care. Sometimes it’s okay to just be silly.”
“I’m glad you had fun.” Only six more floors before we reached ours. Thank goodness no one had entered the elevator with us. Don’t ask me how it happened: what with the casino in full swing and busy, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “And you can be as silly as you want.”
“Really?” Her eyes were glazed over as she looked up.
“Absolutely. Life’s too short to be so serious all the time.” I saw the moment she understood my meaning. She knew where my thoughts had temporarily strayed. There was no need to beckon memories because they were never far from the surface. Sometimes I thought they were woven throughout my entire soul—each thread touching and forming a complicated tapestry.
Caylee nodded. “Want to know something else?”
My lips curled as I kissed the top of her head. “Always.”
“I learned something new tonight. Wanna see?”
In the state she was in, the possibilities were literally endless. “Sure . . .” I replied cautiously. “Or we can wait until we’re alone.”
She busted out laughing. “We’re alone now!” Pushing away from me so she could turn around, Caylee stumbled before regaining her balance. This should be interesting. “Two things first.” She held up three fingers. “One, no laughing. Pinky promise.” She wiggled her small digit. I didn’t argue. I hooked mine around hers and shook. “Two.” Her brows furrowed as I watched her concentrate. “Damn, I forgot!”
“I won’t laugh.”
“Close your eyes! That was it.” She smacked her hand over my eyes, her palm slightly damp. “Okay, you ready?”
The elevator dinged, followed by the doors slowly opening. Peeking through her fingers, I spied a middle-aged man holding an ice bucket in his hand. I guess that meant ours was busted.
I gently moved her hand away from my face. “Hold that thought, darling,” I counseled, eyes open again and my arm back around her waist. We were situated a little way down the long hall. The keycard was already in my hand.
“Good night?” the guy asked, humor shining in his features.
“The best!” Caylee slurred, giving him the biggest, brightest smile she could muster. “Vegas is awesome.”
“Enjoy your night,” I added, impatient to let the guy get back to his business. Caylee waved over her shoulder as I led her away. The doors finally sliding shut.
“He was nice.”
I nodded, practically lifting her off the floor as I made a beeline for our room. “How you feeling?”
“Fab-u-lous.” She used her fingers to count off each syllable. “Although, I don’t think my tummy is happy with me. That was a lot of tequila.” As if to emphasis that point, Caylee hiccupped and slapped her hand over her mouth as a burp erupted.
Swiping the card, I waited for the flash of green light before twisting the door handle and pushing it open. We’d made it. It was my turn to release a sigh of relief.
“You arrrrrrrrre—” Caylee started, sounding like a pirate who’d had more than their fair share of rum rations. “In for a treat, mister!” Poking my chest ha
rd, her knees buckled, causing her to grab onto the front of my shirt. “Now that we’re alone.” She seemed pleased with herself and I chuckled, guiding her over to the bed where I hoped I could tuck her in and let her sleep the worst of it off. Leaving earlier to go to the show, I’d mentally started a list of the many ways I wanted to put the sin in Sin City with her, but those plans were definitely off the table now.
As amorous as she was acting, as much as I wanted to rattle the walls of the room with her screams for more, I wasn’t the asshole who fucked his girlfriend while the only thing keeping her upright were the fumes of a good night out. That might be the M-O of other guys—believing that sex was sex regardless—but it wasn’t mine.
“How about we get these clothes off you, sweetheart?” I didn’t even wait for her to reply. I reached for the hem of her shirt and caught a strong whiff of spilled alcohol. Yeah, it didn’t matter who you were, there came a point where, despite all your best efforts, the cup missed your mouth. In Caylee’s case, her shot had clanked hard against her teeth and dribbled down her chin before the liquid disappeared between her breasts.
She’d laughed until she’d announced she’d almost peed herself.
It was then that we said our goodbyes—everyone leaving the after party to make their way back to their respective rooms for the night.
And here we were . . . me trying to get her cleaned up and her trying to slap my hands away.
“No! I want to sed-uuuuuuce you, Cooper. You know . . . I have skills now.” And heaven help me, she gyrated her hips, sending a pulse of arousal straight to my groin. Maybe I was an ass after all because the sight of her made me want to let her.
I took a seat on the edge of the bed, intrigued to see what she meant. The responsible voice in my head cautioned me about getting distracted. Another part . . . a more convincing voice suggested I wait and see whether these new skills would help in getting her undressed.
Sure enough, in one quick, slightly awkward flare, Caylee removed her tank, twirling it around her head like a lasso before shooting it across the room to the large windows.
Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) Page 19