The Lies That Bind

37: No Good At Goodbye

Cooper woke to darkness, the smell of Calla all around him.

A cruel kindness, to have her like this—knowing he would never have her any other way again.

The weight of memory pressed upon him. The distant flicker of flames, the air in his lungs choked with black smoke, little bits of ash raining down on the street below, covering his shoulders, his hair.

The horror as he realized Calla was now somewhere in those ashes.

Cooper pressed his nose into her pillow and closed his eyes. He could have her here, now. For just a moment.

And so he did. Imagining her warmth as she curled against him.

Find someone else to love. Set yourself free.

If only he had. If only he could.

Cooper threw aside the covers and stood with a gasp. He couldn't stand the smell of it any longer. The smell of her. But there was no escaping it. She was everywhere—on the sheets and in the closet, her work schedule hanging by the door, the shoes she'd worn less than twenty-four hours ago by the foot of the bed, a bundle of hair ties on the nightstand by the bottle of water she'd never finished and never would.

Gone.

Gone.

Cooper collapsed onto the carpet, back braced against the bedframe, and held his head in his hands, fighting back tears. But there was no fight left in him. So he let them fall, his eyes sore, throat unbearably tight.

He imagined Vincent had taken them here because he hadn't known where else to go, not without the truck, and now they were stuck here in this place of memories, Calla's ghost trapped in every corner of the room. Cooper was drowning in her. Drowning, and not sure he wanted to come up for air.

"You lied to me," he tried to say, but his voice had given out and all that came out was a breathy, pained whisper. "You told me I could be happy without you. You told me..."

So many things. So many signs.

I don't think there's a way out of this one.

I just...want you to be prepared.

This long, convoluted mess started with Tracy. With me. And I'm going to finish it. One way or the other.

You could be happy without me, you know.

What if I came here because I wanted to see my boyfriend while we still have time left?

It's almost over.

Look after each other.

He was a fool. A blind fool. Calla had only ever promised his safety, his happiness. Never her own. And maybe, deep down, he'd seen that. But he'd been betting on her inability to lie to him—and his ability to read her if she tried. He'd been betting on so many things, on Oxford and the future waiting for them, on her.

A new, better life.

Cooper palmed away fresh tears and looked about the room blearily. Everything hurt, and not just in his heart—his body ached, too. He'd forgotten all about the wreck, the way he'd slammed into the seatbelt and gotten tossed around like a kernel in a popcorn bag. The pain meant he was alive. Alive and healing.

At least some of his bruises would heal.

Sighing, he readjusted his position on the carpet and stretched out on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling above with a blank expression of his own. When his neck began to ache, he turned his head, peering into the darkness under her bed.