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 shirt 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.
“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.
“TR here on Tagged For Life. Wasn’t that a beautiful song?” She sighed the way she usually would’ve done and looked at her next E-mail. “This one’s short and sweet, and it’s from California Hope. Hey there, Hope.” She was surprised more people used aliases instead of their real names the longer the show aired. Almost as if Jazz had started a trend back then.
Forcing herself to focus, she read over the lines. “’I’ve been in love with the same guy as long as I can remember. High school, college, and then after that when I went back home. He never knew because I never told him. He was my best friend for the longest time. People always say you need to know the guy you’re in love with, and that you should never make rash decisions, but a couple of weeks ago I heard this story from Desert Heart, about the three weeks, and I realized he was right, you know? It’s not about knowing someone a lifetime. It’s about being ready to go through the hard times with a person no matter what, and you know it can work pretty fast. So, of course if I’ve known the guy I loved for so long, how do I justify saying it takes mere minutes? It’s because I met a guy five weeks ago. We work together. We have lunch together, but we never spoke much. Safe to say I knew nothing about him except his name and the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled. However, I was hit by a car a week ago. Guess who was there every day to talk to me and to keep my mind off the pain? That guy. He’s a forever guy. Or rather the forever guy, because there’ll only be one of those in your life. He doesn’t owe me a thing, and I’ll never ask anything of him, and yet… he’s here. That’s all you need to know about the person you choose for your life. That he’s there. So here’s a shout-out to Desert Heart. If you’re listening: She’s your girl. Keep her. She’s your forever girl, no matter the time and distance between you two.’”
Tessa paused a tiny second, then went on. “And here’s the song California Hope picked.” She turned the music on, wondering if Jazz was actually listening, but then dismissed the thought. He no longer was in a war zone; he was here. Standing, she walked over to the window, knowing she had less than a minute to stare out at the world. The sun shone brightly outside, and it wasn’t a surprise. After all, it was almost four in the afternoon. Hosting a night show when it wasn’t actually night was weird, but at least her working times were a lot more sociable. Returning to the console, she stayed standing, no longer calm enough to sit. She accepted the next caller, even talked to the woman, but the moment she started the song, she no longer had any idea what she’d been saying.
God, she needed to pull herself together. And she needed a few hours of sleep, but that would only happen later that night. If at all.
Sighing, she lifted her eyes to the woman who had been her saving grace ever since she’d moved to the US. Beyond the wide glass of her studio, Hilary waved at her, her expression concerned and gentle.
Once the show was over and Tessa was able to put the headphones down, she went outside where Hilary pulled her into a hug. As loud and buoyant as her friend had been the last time she’d been to the US, she was different this time, and Tessa appreciated it.
“You look like shit, sister,” Hils announced, and Tessa couldn’t help herself, shaking her head with a smile. Sometimes the old Hilary came through.
“You say the sweetest things,” she replied, and Hilary shifted the baby in her arms. Tessa touched Johnny’s nose, her heart squeezing tightly. He yawned, his toothless mouth making her grin.
“He’s sleepy and constantly hungry,” Hilary complained, and Tessa laughed.
“He’s a guy, what did you expect?” She grabbed the boy from Hilary, pressing him close to her.
“Home?” Hilary inquired, and Tessa nodded, worrying her lip with her teeth. “I’m driving,” the brunette announced and Tessa didn’t protest.
Strapping the boy into the car seat, she slipped into the front seat, resting her head back. “I should move out,” Tessa commented the moment Hilary sat.
“Come again?” Hils blinked a few times, arching a brow and looking so mean, Tessa wasn’t sure she really wanted to repeat the words.
“You’ve been sacrificing your time to help me, and you have a life, you know? I just don’t wanna be a burden for you,” she explained quietly, right away taking the edge off her words… or so she hoped.
“Seems you suddenly learned Chinese. I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Hilary commented, starting the car and ending the talk.
* * *
“Jazz, man. On your feet.Again.” Tank strolled into the room as if he owned it, and Jazz watched his friend in silence. Thomas had been by before, but until then, Jazz hadn’t taken the time to really look. Or rather, he hadn’t really cared.
“Thomas, hey,” he greeted his friend, and where usually the other soldier sported a buzz cut, his hair had grown out, giving Tank a softer appearance.
“Thomas, huh? What did I do?”
Nothing. He had done nothing, but Jazz had been away too long. Tank probably was the same notorious manwhore, but Jazz, himself, had changed so much, it didn’t feel as if he deserved to call Tank by his nickname any longer… or call him his best friend.
“Nothing. Except… what were you thinking having Tessa fly in for nothing?” Where did the anger in his voice come from?
“Fly in for… nothing?” Tank sputtered, his expression disbelieving.
“I… She was here, but honestly, I…” Couldn’t he finish one damn sentence when it came to that woman?
“You didn’t let her say anything, did you? I mean, did you two talk or just make out like wild teenagers?”
“Neither,” Jazz whispered, his heart hurting at the thought. He started to pace just to keep his feet busy. Standing still gave him an itch he couldn’t scratch, a need to run he couldn’t satisfy. “She wasn’t here very long.”
“What? Oh my God, is everything okay with…” Tank stopped himself and then squinted. “If she wasn’t here long and you two didn’t talk, then you have no clue what’s going on, do you? Tessa Rowan is aUS girl now.”
Jazz’s head snapped up, his heart racing. “She is?”
“Monterey is her hometown,” Tank confirmed, and Jazz bit his lip as his breath came out in a rush, a smile forming on his face before he could stop it.
“So close…” And yet so far, his brain provided helpfully, a dark little voice crushing down all the warmth that had spread at the news.
“You really didn’t talk. What the hell? She was so excited to share all that with you, and… God, I can’t imagine what happened to make her leave so fast.” Tank shook his head, and Jazz found it almost comical.
“So you picked up where you left off before I went, huh? Going from Tessa’s biggest opponent to her biggest fan?” Jazz taunted, jealousy churning in his body because Tank had talked to Tessa and he couldn’t… wouldn’t.
“It’s Tessa we’re talking about, Jazzy boy, the woman you dropped everything for before you left. The one woman who could’ve maybe made you stay,” Tank pointed out. “The woman you swore had changed everything for you.”
And God, she had.
“That was before I left, dude. You know, war makes you see the world differently.” Even though for him it hadn’t been war. It had been one stupid mistake, a carelessness he wouldn’t ever be able to take back. The world had been lifted off its axis, and he was sure it would never return to the way it had been before.
Tank stayed silent so long Jazz actually looked up. Then he spotted the dark circles under his friend’s eyes. Jazz forced a grin and wiggled his eyebrows. “Had a long night again? A blonde chick? Or a dark-haired one?”
He didn’t want to talk about women. He didn’t even want to talk at all, but Tank would be working with him again the moment they declared him fit for duty, and he was his best friend after all, so conversation it was. And Jazz could do superficial. He just couldn’t do emotions, or sweet, or whatever Tessa would be expecting of him.
He needed to get her out of his mind, and soon.
“No, fucker. I was balls deep in worry for you, but hey not that you care, right? Being blown up in some unknown state far from here, you were so badly injured they didn’t dare move you, and now that they have, your fucking doctors advise you to stay in your fucking bed, yet you keep wandering around. So why should I worry, when not even you do?”
And I lifted Tessa up, too, which I’d do again in a heartbeat, just to feel her body against mine one last time, Jazz thought, crossing his arms in front of his body.
“Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”
“You and emotional talks? Sure you’re right in the head?” Jazz lifted the corner of his mouth, on purpose making it look as if he had not a care in the world while his insides were cold and dark.
“Fuck you, idiot. Honestly, I don’t care what you went through, and I’ll have as many drunk talks as you need, but you will tell me, and I will be by your side to fight through that. You hear me? Be a jerk all you want. And next time Tessa drops by, let her say her peace.”
Tank was almost at the door when Jazz whispered, “There won’t be a next time.” Because after what she’d seen, he was sure she wouldn’t ever come back, and it was better that way. He no longer had room in his life for her and hurting her more wasn’t in his cards. He couldn’t, not when one tear on her cheek would probably break him for good.
“If that’s what you think, you really don’t know her at all,” Tank replied, and then Jazz was alone in his room again.
Alone with his pain, the regret, and all the worrisome, unsettling thoughts in his mind. Post-traumatic stress disorder was a bitch, and it owned him. All of him.