When Cade told the bartender that he had had enough, Copper was furious. He clenched his fists and was about to go off on Cade, that carefully contained rage threatening to break free. But over the last year he’d gotten good at keeping that inside, so Copper just closed his eyes and took a breath. Cade was just looking out for him, and he knew that. "He wouldn’t have wanted me living like this,“ Copper agreed when he opened his eyes. "But Ethan is dead. It doesn’t matter what he would have wanted anymore.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Copper felt guilt. "I’m sorry,“ he whispered, eyes closed again, and he wasn’t talking to Cade. After opening them once more, Copper said, “That’s not true. It’s always going to matter what he would have wanted.” Ethan being dead didn’t change that.
Copper could have gone on raging for a long time. "I’m just so fucking angry,“ Copper told Cade, his voice a whisper; this wasn’t something he had ever said to anyone other than his therapist back in Maine. "I’m sad all the time, even when I’m not, but I’m angry too. I’m mad at everything.” The longer Copper spoke, the louder he became, his voice laced with bitterness. He went on, “I’m angry at myself obviously, but I’m mad at that the snowplows hadn’t dropped enough salt to melt the ice that night. I’m mad at all the fancy new safety measures touted as selling points that failed to save his life. I’m mad that that tree was growing where it was, and I’m mad at the EMTs for getting there too late. I’m mad that they focused more on me because they thought I had a better chance of living. I’m mad at the snow for falling that night. I’m mad that he had to work, and I’m mad at myself for picking him up and claiming that it was safer that way. That feels like some big cosmic joke now, only I’m not laughing. But…” Copper trailed off, biting his lower lip because what he was about to say was a dark kept secret that he had never given voice to. The thought of doing that scared him too much. Then he took a deep breath and said in a raspy voice, “And I’m mad at him for dying.” Copper couldn’t believe he had said it out loud, and he didn’t feel better, but he didn’t feel worse either. He didn’t feel like anything. "I’m so angry that he died and left me here,“ he murmured, and it wasn’t until he saw the teardrops on the bar that he realized he was crying.
Cade let him speak, just let him work through it. He could interject, he could argue, he could explain. None of that would help Copper. No, Cade knew better, he knew that the other needed to be given space to work through it in his own mind so he sat in silence, just nodding slowly at him. When he finally stopped, when he admitted he was mad at him for dying, when he explained the situation fully enough that Cade could fill in all the gaps, it was blatantly an accident. He reached out, wrapping his hand around the back of Copper’s head, he gave him a soft smile, a sad look as they met eyes, “Hey, listen.” He said as he spoke slowly and assured, “You’re allowed to be mad, you’re allowed to be upset. But, you...” He paused, making sure that Copper heard him.
“You can’t give up and you can’t just let your anger and pain control you.” He almost made a bad joke about it leading to the dark side, but he stowed that away as inappropriate in the back of his mind, “I was angry, sad, all of that for a long time and you’re not going to heal overnight, but talking about it like you just did, that’s a damn good first step.” He swallowed and slid his hand down until he found Copper’s own, sliding his fingers around his hand and giving it a squeeze, “When you’re ready to talk about it, I want to hear about him. The good, the bad, all of it. I’ll tell you about Michael and we can commiserate. But, I understand everything you’re feeling right now.”
