Cooper woke from his nightmare with sweaty palms and adrenaline pounding through his body. His fists clenched the sheets. It had been especially bad this time, every memory more vivid, the taste of blood in his mouth, the bite of shrapnel in his skin. No way in hell could he sleep again after that. Not tonight.
He sat up and tossed the sheet off, wishing for someone to talk to, someone who could understand. If only Ben were still alive. Ben had always known what to say. But he wasn’t, and Cooper had to deal with that.
Balling up the top sheet, he grimaced. Drenched again. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. 2 a.m. Just great. With a heavy sigh, he left the bed and turned the shower on, then waited until the water was scalding hot before he stepped under it. Closing his eyes, he let the water rinse the sweat off his body, which took the sharp edge off the visions in his head, leaving them blurred and distorted. He opened his eyes. The image of Ben faded until it was nothing more than a hazy reflection in the glass.
His brain loved to torture him this way, reminding him of what he’d lost. Or, more accurately, of what he hadn’t been strong enough to save.
Cooper turned away from the glass, stepped out of the water, and buried his face in a towel as he dripped freely on the bathroom floor. After taking a few deep breaths to regain control, he toweled off briskly and stared himself in the eye in the mirror above the vanity.
“Pull yourself together, man.”
The face that looked back at him could have been a stranger’s. Damn. The empty space in his chest felt suffocating. He smashed his fist down on the vanity, pleased by the jolt of pain that ricocheted up his arm to his elbow. It grounded him, gave him something in the real world to hold on to. He tore away, strode back to the bedroom, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sleeveless shirt.
Outside, the cold air bit into his warm skin, but he ignored it as he locked the house and climbed behind the wheel of his car. He hadn’t made a conscious decision to leave, so he found himself ready to go but with no destination in mind. For a moment, he contemplated parking outside Trisha and Madison’s house, just to reassure himself they were safe, but decided against it. He hadn’t descended that far into madness yet.
Sophie.
She was his for another week and a half. Although it was late, she might be prepared to open her door for him if he was charming enough—and Cooper knew how to be charming. Decision made, he sped to her place, the scenery flying past the windows of the car. In short order, he stood on her doorstep.
After freezing for several minutes with no response to his knocks, he was beginning to feel stupid when the door swung open and Sophie blinked up at him sleepily. She shivered when the cool air hit her and drew her lumpy bathrobe more tightly around herself.
“Coop?” she asked, a slight furrow forming between her eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”
“I… I…” he stammered, struck mute by the sight of her. He’d been prepared for Sophie the seductress, and he could have handled that woman. He didn’t know what to do with the sleepy, adorable version of Sophie. Sometimes he forgot how small she was, not even reaching his shoulder. He could easily pick her up with one arm. So petite. Breakable.
Memories of carnage and destruction flashed through his mind. A woman like Sophie had no place in a world where men like him killed and burned things to the ground.
“Hey.” She must have glimpsed his turmoil, because she stepped down onto the doorstep, wrapped her arms around his waist, and squeezed tightly. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”
Cooper returned the embrace and rested his cheek on the top of her head, breathing in the strawberry scent of her. It felt right, holding her like this. Like she had been made for him.
She drew back, tilting her head to meet his eyes. “Come in.”
He shouldn’t. Just being here broke all of his rules, but she seemed to know what he needed, and for once he was going to let someone else take the reins.
Winding his fingers through hers, he smiled hesitantly. She smiled back, stretched onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. The touch was soft and fleeting, but it zinged through Cooper and shook him to the core. What was she doing to him? He’d never felt so unsettled, and all because of a pint-sized woman.
Sophie led him into the bedroom. Unlike the last time he’d been here, the place was a mess. Clothes lay in piles on the floor, makeup was stacked haphazardly on the cupboard, and a set of free weights had been dumped in the corner with a yoga mat, yet another sign that he’d caught her off-guard. Somehow, though, the mess relaxed him, which was surprising for a military man who kept a minimalistic house. He could picture Sophie living in this room. It felt like a home.
She retrieved a massive purple pillow from the floor and put it at the head of the bed, shucked the dressing gown to reveal a tiny pair of pajamas, and slipped under the duvet.
“You gonna join me?” she asked.
With a jolt, he realized she wanted him to take the spot next to her. He dithered, so far out of his comfort zone it was ridiculous.
“You can stand there like a doofus if you want, but it’s warmer in here.”
Hell, why not? If he was going to break the rules, he might as well do it properly. He unzipped his jeans, added them to a pile on the floor, and scooted into the bed, sliding an arm around her.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked.
“No.” He wouldn’t be able to stand seeing the shock in her eyes. Or worse, the pity.
“Okay,” she said simply, then rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Do you mind getting the light?”
Glancing around, he noticed a switch on the wall to his right and flicked it, plunging them into darkness. Sophie hummed contentedly and snuggled closer, and Cooper’s mind spun, trying to catch up. He couldn’t figure out how he’d ended up here. All he’d wanted was a quick screw to take his mind off things. Instead, he’d morphed into a speechless zombie and let her coddle him. And the worst part was, he liked it. He liked listening to Sophie’s soft breaths becoming regular as she dropped off to sleep. Liked feeling the warm length of her next to him. Most of all, he liked that after he finally fell asleep himself, he didn’t dream.
Sophie woke to the buzz of her vibrating alarm on the bedside table. Groaning, she switched it off and eased out of bed, careful not to wake Cooper, who was snoozing next to her.
He’d barely spoken after he’d turned up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. God knew what demons had driven him here, but she’d known not to press him for fear of making him shut down completely. Still, she was pleased he’d found some measure of peace during the night—and he must have, or he wouldn’t have fallen asleep.
Years ago, climbing into Sophie’s bed had been enough to ease Antonia’s pain. Unfortunately, Antonia could no longer walk to Sophie’s bed unassisted, much less climb in.
Yanking on her robe, Sophie grimaced, noticing the state of the room and herself. Oh, jeez. She’d opened the door wearing the ugliest thing she owned and had let him into a room in worse condition than what most teenagers would tolerate. Then again, considering the way he’d stared at her blankly, he might not have seen much of anything.
One could hope.
Sophie cooked a bowl of porridge—the morning air was too chilly for an uncooked breakfast—and trekked down the path to the Big House. A pile of fresh laundry was folded on the sofa, evidence the nurse had visited.
Knocking on the bedroom door, Sophie called, “Mum? You up?”
No response. She pushed the door open a crack and peered in to see Antonia rolling over in bed. Good, she was awake. Shoving the door wide open, Sophie breezed into the room, whipped the curtains back and spun around to smile at her mother. “Good morning,” she chirped. “How are you doing today?”
Antonia glared at her through half-closed eyes. “I was fine.”
Cheeky. She must be in good spirits. Sophie perched on the edge of the bed, the bowl of porridge in her lap. “You going to work with me today, Mum?”
Antonia heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose so. But it’s so…lowering.”
“I know.” Sophie kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry. I wish I could make it better.”
After helping her shift upright, Sophie propped a pillow against the head of the bed and laid the bowl on the bedding in front of her mother. Leaving the bowl where it was, Antonia scooped a spoonful of porridge and lifted it to her mouth, spilling a little down the front of her nightshirt. Sophie grabbed a tissue from her pocket and wiped the spill. They worked together until the bowl was empty, then Sophie turned the stereo on and moved the bowl from the bed. Trying to act casual despite her racing heart, she selected a romance novel from the bookshelf in the hall and handed it to her mum.
“I think you’ll like this one,” she said.
“Mm. Perhaps.”
Antonia didn’t so much as glance down at the cover, but Sophie’s heart swelled. She hadn’t immediately rejected the idea. That was an improvement. A slight one, but still, it gave Sophie some hope.
“Shall I read you a chapter to get started?”
“If you must.”
Sophie read to her, introducing the hero and heroine but stopping as soon as she got to the juicy meet-cute. Hopefully, she’d piqued Antonia’s interest enough for her to continue on her own. Sophie kissed her mum on the cheek and left to prepare for work, hoping against hope that Antonia would make the effort to read a chapter or two during the day. It wasn’t healthy for a mind to be completely occupied with the past.
Cooper shifted from his position behind the bookcase, his mind racing with questions. Sophie’s mum was bedridden with some sort of illness. How had he not known that after he’d spent so much time with her over the last few days?
Because you’re selfish. He was obsessed with his own problems. All the while, poor Sophie had been taking care of her mum. What was her name? Something unusual. Andrea? Anthea? Antonia. That was it. He wondered what was wrong with Antonia. Sophie had read to her like a parent to a child, except with raunchier material.
He’d felt like a pervert the whole damn time, watching them without announcing his presence, but he’d been so shocked, the wind had been knocked out of him. He’d never imagined Sophie had anything so serious going on in her life. It made him feel like the worst kind of criminal, making assumptions and taking advantage of a vulnerable woman.
Only… She started it.
The arrangement had been Sophie’s idea to begin with, right down to the two-week expiry date. Had she set the time limit to stop him from getting close to her? Did she want to keep him out of her personal life? The thought made him unaccountably angry, especially after he’d come to her last night and exposed a facet of his damaged soul. She’d welcomed him into her bed without any questions. And once again, with her body tucked against his, he hadn’t dreamed. Somehow, she eased the symptoms of his PTSD.
Cooper rubbed his eyes, frustrated. Sophie was a complicated woman, and for the first time he wondered if agreeing to her time limit had been a mistake. The more he saw of her, the more he wanted to see, and he worried that his feelings for her were no longer casual.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Cooper strode into the bedroom where Antonia was resting on the pillows, the book lying untouched on her lap.
“Hey, there,” he said with false cheer. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” Antonia replied, her lips moving clumsily, as if speaking were unfamiliar. The words slurred together. Perhaps she’d had a stroke. “And you?”
“Good,” he replied, leaning against the wall beside her bed. “I didn’t realize you were sick. What is it?”
Her eyes shuttered as if she’d drawn the blinds. Her lips pursed, and she lifted her chin slightly but didn’t reply.
“Is it treatable?” he asked, struck by the thought that she could be terminally ill.
After a moment, she said, “No.”
“I’m so sorry.” And he was. Poor Antonia. And poor Sophie. Why hadn’t she mentioned her mother? Surely she knew he was an understanding guy. She’d been there for Cooper, and he’d like to return the favor if she’d give him a chance.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, looking down.
He felt like he wasn’t seeing something here, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “I’m still sorry for you.”
“Th-thank you.” Her voice was rusty, like hinges on a gate that hadn’t been opened in years. “Do…” She trailed off, took a breath and started again. “Do you…” This time, she squared her shoulders and made a visible effort to speak. “Love my daughter?”
Cooper chuckled. Of all the questions he might have expected, that one hadn’t even made the list, but perhaps it should have. After all, what else would the mother of the woman he was seeing ask? But Cooper wouldn’t know. He actively avoided mothers—other than his own, of course. Although he loved women in general, his relationships never lasted for long, and he was afraid his girlfriends’ mothers would see right through him. He didn’t need any all-seeing, all-knowing older women realizing that his behavior was a result of PTSD and trying to fix him. He didn’t need to be fixed.
“I don’t love Sophie,” he said honestly. “I care about her, but I don’t love her.”
Antonia nodded, deep in thought. “Could you?”
“Love her?” His eyebrows shot up. The question had surprised him. “She’s a very lovable person, but I don’t think I could love anyone. My heart’s pretty ugly, Mrs. D. No one would want it, anyway.”
His comments were intended to sound flippant, but instead they screamed of bitterness. Strange. He hadn’t realized he cared about the state of his heart.
Antonia looked at him knowingly but didn’t say anything. She’d run out of words. Cooper leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Feel better,” he said, then strolled out of the room, back towards Sophie’s cottage, wondering how the hell he was going to get the truth out of her. He needed to know what was wrong with Antonia, and he wanted to pay Sophie back by being there for her the same way she’d been there for him.