Forever Girl (Tagged Soldiers Book 2) Read online

  Betty. Betty was there. The moment his mind caught up with that fact, he gently pushed her aside, but Tessa was gone.

  Luckily he didn’t have to see the expression on her face because he knew it would just add to his nightmares, and he sure had enough of those to last a lifetime.

  Tessa’s heart rattled in her ribcage, beating irregularly as if it had been shattered, and every little piece tried to have its own rhythm. She could barely swallow around the lump that had formed in her throat. She’d hardly made it out of the room before her knees collapsed underneath her. Sinking down right next to Jazz’s door, she rubbed her palms furiously across her face, hoping to keep her tears in check. No one needed to see them, and honestly, she’d set herself up for that.

  So what if he’d called into the show? Thinking back to his words, they’d sounded like a goodbye of sorts, hadn’t they? She’d just misunderstood them because she had wanted them to mean something different, something promising a future.

  God, she’d been stupid.

  “Miss Rowan?”

  Tessa refused to look up, and as long as no one told her to move, she wouldn’t either. She wasn’t sure her feet could carry her anywhere. Sitting there on a gray linoleum floor while staring at the white walls, Tessa realized she’d put everything she had into the hope, the belief, Jazz would want her back, and they’d make it work somehow. She hadn’t even thought about never seeing him again. Not really, no matter what she’d told herself.

  “Tessa.” The sharp way her name was spoken brought her back from the hurtful spiral her thoughts had entered. She glanced up at the doctor, and his eyes shone with pity and regret. She lowered her gaze again because that was the last thing she wanted to see.

  He sat next to her, his side against hers as if he knew she’d draw comfort from that. He was maybe thirty-five. Yet he seemed to be old beyond his years. She wondered if it was the job and the patients, or rather those like her.

  “You said you were a friend, and that’s what he needs. I’m sorry this meeting didn’t turn out the way you expected, but—”

  “What makes you think it didn’t turn out the right way?”

  He chuckled softly, resting his head back against the wall while she watched his profile. His hair was a dark blond, and he had dark eyes framed with long lashes. He looked tired, and she assumed he’d already spent quite a few hours in the hospital. He winked as he caught her staring, but the smile slipped from his lips as he answered.

  “You’re sitting here, and it’s not the ‘relieved’ sitting, but the ‘tired-to-the-bone’ one. I’ve seen enough of both to know the difference. He didn’t recognize you?”

  Oh, Tessa knew Jazz had recognized her well enough. The way he’d crushed her to his body was proof of that.

  “He did, actually, and it was as if no time at all had passed, but suddenly it changed… I don’t know…he was a different guy. His eyes were colder, and he told me that… well, actually he didn’t tell me much. He just started a sentence that sounded a lot like a goodbye when a dark-haired woman came barreling in and propelled herself right in his arms. I didn’t even wait to look at them.” She’d never seen that woman before. Then again, she didn’t know many people from Jazz’s life. In fact, she didn’t know much about Jazz.

  The doctor stayed quiet for a moment, then he stood, holding out a hand for her much like Jazz had inside the room. The thought cut deep because he had wanted to be close to her—until suddenly he didn’t.

  Tessa grabbed the outstretched hand and stood, too.

  “He needs a friend, Miss Rowan, and I know that even if he doesn’t say it when he’s awake, he needs you. For whatever reason, he calls out your name, not those of his comrades or his family. Yours. And since you don’t look as if you’ve been to a war zone, I’m going out on a limb here saying you mean something to him. I can imagine it’s hard seeing him, and it will be even harder if he keeps pushing you away, but I need to think of his health, and if…” He trailed off, as if trying to rephrase his thought. “I know that friends or girlfriends or lovers can make a huge difference. He went through a trauma, and war before that. We don’t know what happened, but if you could, maybe come back another time and just talk to him.” Dr.Spencer shrugged his shoulder, as if he wasn’t sure any longer what he was suggesting. “And I meant it when I said PTSD-patients sometimes push those away meaning the most to them.”

  Closing her eyes, she sighed. “Here’s my number.” Tessa grabbed a pen from his coat pocket, reaching for the doctor’s hand because she didn’t feel like searching for a paper. In fact, she didn’t feel like lingering. She had places to be, people to meet… Three numbers in, she realized she’d begun to write her British number, so she scratched that out and started anew with the American one. It was still too fresh to appear in her mind on autopilot, but that would come in time. “Call me if you think there’s anything I can do for him.” She met the doctor’s eyes, making sure he understood the hint. She didn’t think he was flirting with her, but it couldn’t hurt to point out that her heart wasn’t free.

  “I promise,” he replied, a smile tugging on the left corner of his lips, and it was all the confirmation Tessa needed before she spun around and left the cursed halls, wondering what lies she’d been telling herself about this, Jazz, and most importantly about herself.

  Tessa stared at Hilary while her friend shifted the baby. The boy was tiny, his hair dark and already full. He’d been born with it, and Tessa could only shake her head.

  “Isn’t he perfect?” Hils touched the boy’s cheek. Tessa knew how it felt, soft and strange, as if it were out of this world.

  “He is,” she agreed and then opened her arms. Hilary was reluctant to let him go, but Tessa knew that feeling, too. After all, how could you not get all soft and motherly on the inside, holding something so precious?

  “Hey, John,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the child’s head.

  “How was it?”

  Tessa was glad Hilary waited for that question until she had something to hold. “How did he take the news you’re now officially a US resident?”

  Tessa knees shook, and to avoid injuring Johnny or herself, she stiffly walked to the sofa and sat, not looking at her friend.

  “Actually, he doesn’t know. I didn’t get a chance to tell him,” she admitted, and Hilary’s blue eyes clouded with sadness. Her friend had lost weight since she’d last been there, and though Hils had always been beautiful in Tessa’s eyes—inside and out—she was even more stunning now.

  “I figured as much. I knew things were going wrong when a dark-haired woman stepped to the nurses’ station and introduced herself as Mrs. Connor,” her friend stated, and Tessa closed her eyes, cradling the tiny human tighter to her chest. He didn’t complain, but instead seemed to wriggle his way even closer.

  “Fits,” Tessa replied. “There was a woman… She ran into the room, ignored me, and threw herself at Jazz. He didn’t even look at me anymore.” And God, that cut deep. So deep. Her heart had cracked and still wasn’t back to normal. The beating hadn’t evened out in the twenty minutes it took to reach Hilary’s house.

  Home.

  It was her home, and she couldn’t quite grasp it. Fate had been so kind to her, fixing everything she hadn’t even thought about wishing for, and yet, it all had shattered around her, the splinters burying themselves into her body, mind, and soul.

  “I heard him, Tessy. We both did. On your show. He loves you. I know he does. Hell, he did before he left. I don’t understand. What did he say when he saw you? He must’ve said something. That woman came a few minutes after you had vanished.” Hilary’s insistence was almost comical. Tessa would’ve been ready to deny reality just as vehemently had she not seen it with her own eyes. She’d been in that room.

  Which reminded her… had he said something? She couldn’t recall. She’d entered the room, found him with his back to her, his arms braced against the window frame as he’d stared out at the world. His too-tight sh
irt was unable to hide the black lines beneath the material. A kneeling angel holding dog tags.

  “I don’t know.” She stared at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling. “I just remember being in his arms. Somehow, he knew I was in the room.He spun and picked me up before I got a chance to greet him properly. He held me even though I felt him tremble.I know he had to be in pain. All his muscles were tense under my hands, but Hils, he was beautiful.”

  And God, he had always been. His blue eyes were missing the shine she’d come to love, but everything else was just as she remembered. His prominent cheekbones, his full lips, his soft gaze. “His skin was darker, tanned, more than I remembered, and he had lots of tiny scars that hadn’t been there before. He probably hadn’t shaved in a few days, but I didn’t care. His hair was rather long, too, but… nothing changed. Seeing him felt exactly the way it had the first time I met him. Back at the airport. I was drawn in. He lowered me back to my feet, clearly no longer being able to stand, and he sat on the bed. I saw the longing in his eyes. I saw it all there for a fleeting moment, and time vanished. The last ten months ceased to exist as he asked me to step closer, and I did, but suddenly… it was gone. He was stone cold, and he pushed farther back on the bed.”

  She shook her head as someone whimpered. It took a second for her to realize she was making those noises and that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I told him that Tank and I thought it was a good idea, or I wanted to say that, and he just lifted a shoulder the tiniest bit, starting with ‘well’… and then she came in. That woman. I ran.”

  Hilary, sitting on the floor, gently rubbed Tessa’s knee. “I’m so sorry. Whatever happened right before she came in, I am sure… I know holding you meant he has feelings for you still. I don’t give a fuck he’s married now. War is a tough thing on the mind, and I know it’s unimaginable for us, who never have been in a war zone. People make choices that seem logical at the time, but as soon as they are home, logic flies out the window.”

  Hilary’s words only made Tessa cry more. She knew her friend was just trying to help, but Hils didn’t know Jazz the way she had come to know him.

  “Jazz wouldn’t ever go back on something like that. If he married her, he had reasons that were above and beyond duty, and that means he’ll not drop her just because they are back home. Besides… if she shared hell with him, how can I ever compete?” Do I even want to? Or am I ready to let him go and be happy?

  “You can’t do that,” Hilary interrupted her thoughts and Tessa realized she’d spoken out loud. “If for nothing else, you need to go back, Tessa. He needs to know you’ve waited. You deserve closure just as much as he does. No guy, who is over someone, picks her up despite the pain he is in, and no guy makes a call like he did, if he stopped loving her. I’m not saying you should encourage him to cheat. In fact, I’m telling you to wish him all the best in the world because it’s the decent thing to do, yet I’m asking you to go there and find closure. Otherwise you’ll go insane.”

  Tessa wasn’t sure she could argue that logic. The problem was all she wanted was to curl up and cry until no more tears were left. She wanted to hide and only come out again when the heartache had healed or hell froze over, whichever came first.

  The problem was she had responsibilities, and no matter what she wanted to do, it wasn’t what she would be doing.

  Jazz smiled gently as Betty stepped back from the bed, giving him room to stand. No matter how much he was hurting—which he was because he’d lifted Tessa and because he’d broken her heart—he couldn’t possibly stay in bed.

  “You’re here, Betty,” he said, seeing her scowl instantly.

  “That’s it? You’re here? No ‘thank you’, no ‘you survived’, no ‘fuck, I’m so glad to see you’? Yes, I’m back because the Army flew the whole squad home, and I had no place to go but Monterey because I needed to see you, needed to see with my own eyes that you made it.”

  He nodded, turning his back to her as he went back to the window. It was almost lunchtime if he guessed correctly, and that meant…

  “Your show’s on in a few. Here,” Betty announced, placing her cell phone on the table next to the bed.

  Knowing Tessa wasn’t on UK time anymore, but in the States instead made him realize there wouldn’t be a show. How could here be if—

  “Hey, this is TR. Good evening, all you lonely hearts.” Jazz closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the sun-warmed window. He hadn’t even realized the sun was shining outside. She clearly acted as if she was on UK-time.

  “She sounds off,” Betty commented, and he almost laughed. He’d made his team listen to the show night after night down in hell even though they’d been three hours ahead of her, and clearly Betty knew the inflictions in Tessa’s voice just as good as he did.

  “Next up, our kick-off for the evening, ‘Say You Won’t Let Go’ by James Arthur.”Her voice came from the cell, and then the song started. He wondered if she was trying to tell him something—after all, she knew he listened to the show—but then he shook it off. He didn't think she’d be doing it over the radio.

  “She is the woman you nearly ran over when you came in,” he replied quietly, and the silence filled with the low tones of the song Tessa had picked.

  “Impossible, TR is sitting in London. She has her studio there. I stalked her page after I realized you were obsessed with a chick-radio-show. Okay, I stalked the address. The page of the radio station itself is super boring, but I guess you don’t need a crazy-good presence online if you have a show that’s such a hit. Anyway, that’s how I know it’s London. I wanted to see if maybe I could get you to meet that TR woman, because I honestly think—”

  “TR. Tessa Rowan,” he interrupted.A second later, he heard a dull thump. Checking over his shoulder, he saw that Betty had sat down on his bed, staring at him, her jaw slack.

  “Tessa. That Tessa? The woman you met before you left? The airport one?”

  “I told her one day I’m tagged for life by the Army,” he whispered and then went back to the bed, opening the drawer in the table next to his bed, but closing it again before reaching inside for the photo hidden there.

  “That’s the name of her show. It’s… impossible.”

  “Tagged For Life here. I have an E-mail from Joanne” came from the phone. Jazz turned off the cell, not wanting to hear more of Tessa, especially not when he knew she was so close, could be by his side if he’d only opened his mouth to explain, to say something. Then again, it was better this way. Tessa couldn’t belong to his life any longer.

  “You should’ve said something earlier. I mean, about her, when she was standing there. I didn’t—” Betty interrupted herself and swallowed hard, tears glittering in her eyes, and Jazz reached out to squeeze her hand reassuringly.

  “I was about to send her away,” he admitted.

  “You still sound rough. Do you even realize that?” she questioned, fear and regret shining brightly in her eyes.

  He touched his neck, felt where the scars were even though the doctor had assured him he couldn’t actually feel them, and then he shook his head. He had sounded like that for four weeks, and he noticed neither the huskiness nor the pain speaking caused. It was what hurt the least in his body.

  “It’ll take at least a couple more months until his throat will be back to normal, miss. Corporal Conner, I need to remind you to stay in bed, not move, and not talk too much. Plus, I need a list of people who are allowed to visit you. I have your mother and sister on it, Private Michaels, and Miss Rowan, if you want that. I can put your friend here on, too.” Jazz looked up at the doctor who was probably just a few years older than he. “Even though, it seems that Miss Rowan didn’t stay long, so I assume I should—”

  Jazz watched in panic how the doctor put down his pen to strike through Tessa’s name, and he couldn’t deal with that. No matter if he’d been cold to her, had hurt her with his actions, the thought of her not being allowed should she decide to come back terrified him.<
br />
  “No. No. Just… leave her name on it.” Not that she’ll come back, he thought to himself, but didn’t say it.

  Something flashed across the doctor’s face, and it looked damn close to satisfaction, but before Jazz could ask, it was gone again.

  “No need to put my name in, doctor. I work at the hospital now. I just returned from duty and was transferred, but we can talk about that some other time,” Betty explained, and Jazz’s eyes snapped back to her.

  “You are?”

  She winked at him. “Why do you think they let me in here?” She laughed, and he shrugged. He hadn’t thought about that. Then again, he didn’t really think about much but the hell they had escaped… the one others hadn’t.

  Closing his eyes against the onslaught of memories, he winced as he could almost feel the heat brush up against his body again. Involuntarily he pulled his legs up, trying to make himself as small as possible.

  “I think it’s time Corporal Connor rested,” his doctor announced, and Jesse forced himself to open his eyes, watching how Betty stood from the bed.

  “Turn the radio on and get some z’s, corporal,” she ordered, her expression gentle. It was crazy how everyone back in hell had encouraged him to continue his freaky obsession with the show. It had kept him alive, or so they believed, but he knew better.

  It wasn’t the show.

  It was a stupid mistake made by fate.

  Broken hearts were everywhere, and Tessa wasn’t sure she could deal with that. She had no clue who had selected the people she talked to or the stories she was supposed to read out, but man, heartache was around every corner, and never in the months since she’d started Tagged For Life had she felt as torn and depressed as she did that day, and she still had forty minutes to go. A song played, and although she had her headphones on, she didn’t hear it.

  She was exhausted to the bone. Until this morning, she had been ready to take on the world, but that changed in the blink of an eye.All she could think about was the way that woman had thrown herself at Jazz. Her Jazz. Or at least that had been what she’d thought.