Finding Forever (Colorado Veterans Book 6)

by Tiffani Lynn

  Her eyes flicker knowingly to the cigarette on the ground. I bend down and stub it out so I can toss it in the trash can and forget about it.

  “What song was it?”

  “My wedding song.”

  “Which was?” I can feel her eyes bore into me as she asks.

  “‘To Make You Feel My Love.’”

  “Wow. The Bob Dylan version?”

  “Nah, Jess preferred the Garth Brooks version.”

  “Good song. I can see why that would get under your skin.”

  There is no response needed and I don’t think I could give one even if she wanted one. I reach my hand out toward her. Time to retreat back inside. “Come on. It’s too cold out here for you to be sitting here, even if you’re having a hot flash. Finish that car and get home to your husband.”

  She groans and snatches her coat from the table next to her before taking my hand and following me inside. When I make it through the doorway, I hear my cell phone ringing from its place over on my workbench. I don’t get many calls, so I doubt it’s anything more than the telemarketers that have been bothering me lately, but I look anyway. Not recognizing the number, I ignore the call and get back to work.

  Everyone went home hours ago and I kept working. I wasn’t ready to face a quiet apartment early, so I stayed late. Most of the time when I do that, I don’t mark my hours down. It’s more therapy for me than anything. I walk around inside the building, turning all the lights off, and stop in the bathroom to scrub my hands. Once that’s complete, I grab my keys and coat and head for my car, to find the roads are covered in snow. It must be later than I thought. Damn. I glance down at my watch and see that it’s ten o’clock already. Thank God I have my old Bronco because it’s built for this kind of weather.

  As I’m climbing into the vehicle, a snowplow rolls past and I follow it, keeping my speed low to accommodate the slick roads. Instead of heading home though, I do the same thing I always do when the snow is falling. I head for a little neighborhood not far from the shop. I turn onto the second street on the left and drive until I reach the fourth house, a modest, beige two-story house with a wide driveway and small porch. Right now, the place is devoid of personality, but in the spring and summer there are a bunch of flowers all over the front yard. I park on the street and grab my snow shovel from the back of my Bronco. After forty-five minutes, I have the driveway and porch cleared. I open the container I keep in the back of the Bronco and scoop some salt and spread it over the porch and driveway. When I’m done, I climb back in the vehicle and stare at the house for a few minutes, wishing I were going inside, before I turn around and leave.

  My phone rings in the depth of my pocket but I can’t get to it, so I make a mental note to check the number when I get home. The roads aren’t great heading toward my place, so it takes longer than normal. Once I reach my apartment, I remove my boots and socks inside the doorway and head straight for the bathroom. A hot shower and a bite to eat should help me fall asleep quickly; I’m just hoping I can stay that way too.

  Three

  Jess

  Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. I keep my eyes trained on the tweaker in front of me who keeps dragging his fingernails across his flaky, sore-covered arms. I called for an orderly to come to this room after I took my first look at him, because it’s obvious he’s desperate, but we’re so busy here in the ER tonight that no one has come yet. My assumption is that this patient hasn’t showered in quite a while, and I’m having a hard time not gagging from the putrid scent wafting off him, and I dread when I actually have to touch him—even with gloves. I finish typing in information on the computer and say, “I’ll be right back and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  As I’m pulling the curtain back to leave him and find an orderly to be in there with me, he reaches for me, grabbing the sleeve of my scrubs, and tugs hard. “I need meds. I’m in a lot of pain and can’t take it. I can’t wait anymore!”

  I stumble and right myself before I yank my arm back, ready to scuttle out of there. But I don’t have time because he surprises me with his speed and strength, pushing me hard enough to fall over the feet of the rolling temperature cart, and I land on the floor on my back. He pounces on me and I go into fight mode and start swinging. He’s also swinging, and screaming about needing meds now. When he connects with my nose, it stuns me silent and my hands automatically go to my face. By then, several people are in the room, pulling him off of me and trying to help me up. There’s a lot of yelling and questions and it’s a flurry of noise and commotion but I’m too busy trying to figure out if he actually broke my nose or just hit me hard enough that I can’t breathe. Blood is flowing out of my nose like a faucet and it’s throbbing like crazy.

  A half hour later, I’m done giving my statement to the police officer that was called to take the tweaker away, and my boss is trying to convince me to go home.

  “I’m not leaving until my shift ends at eleven. I understand what you’re saying, but I can also look around and see that we’re drowning in a sea of patients back here, with a full waiting room. I won’t leave them in the weeds like this. He didn’t break my nose, he just got me good. I’m sore, but I can rest when I get home. I’m off the next two days.”

  “Jess, I wish you’d go home, but I can’t force you, and to be honest, we need the help, so I’m sending you back out there. If you change your mind, just let me know.” She knows my story and knows that I hate being at home alone. I’d rather be injured at work than be where the memories and quiet eat me alive more often than not.

  After I place my hand on her arm, I hold eye contact, “I’ll be fine. I only have a couple hours left. Thanks for caring though.” She nods once and I head back out, thinking to myself that if I had someone to go home to, I probably would leave.

  My face is sore, my feet ache and I’m exhausted. Between the full moon and incoming storm, the hospital was crazy, and when you add my tweaker incident, it’s too much to handle for one day. Unless you work at a hospital or a jail, you never quite believe how much the weather and moon phases affect people. Tonight is a perfect example of a double whammy.

  The streets are slick as the snow comes down, but I’m careful and take longer than normal to get home. When I roll down my street, I heave a deep sigh of relief and turn into my freshly shoveled and salted driveway. I’m not sure if my relief is due more to the fact that I don’t have to shovel my porch and driveway or because I know that Wes has been here and is still watching out for me. It’s been about a year since I caught a glimpse of him, but I know he’s still around because my grass gets mowed while I’m at work during the warm months and my driveway gets shoveled in the winter. I never asked him to do any of those things; I even tried getting him to stop, but he ignored me and keeps coming back.

  It should probably annoy me or tick me off, but it doesn’t. Instead it’s a comfort. We’ve been divorced for four years now and you’d think he would move on. Maybe he has and he does this out of obligation. I hate thinking of him lonely, but I really hate thinking of him with someone else. Not just a little, a lot. I push that out of my head and move into my house.

  When I get inside, I turn on a few lights and make my way to the kitchen island, where I have a charging cord for my phone and plug it in. It died halfway through my shift. I don’t get many calls in the evening. Most people know I work the swing shift, so I doubt I have any messages, but I always keep it on me just in case.

  Zuzu prowls out from the living room to greet me with a loud meow. “Hello, Zuzu baby. How’s my girl?” I croon as I lean down to pull the fat cat into my arms to give her a cuddle. After a couple more loud meows, I drop her to her feet and open a can of her wet food and scoop it into her bowl. Then I pull out a container of leftover beef stew from the refrigerator and pop it into the microwave. While it’s heating up, I wash my hands and then turn on the television to one of my Friends television show DVD’s so I can unwind. I tried watching the news and that only keyed me up m
ore; I tried watching other shows but nothing quite settles me like time with Monica, Joey, Chandler, Phoebe, Rachel and Ross. When my food is warm, I sit and eat it quietly while laughing at the show. Zuzu climbs up the couch and curls up right behind my neck on the back so she’s touching me.

  When I’m done, I set my container in the sink and rinse it. Then I grab my phone and a glass of water and head upstairs. As I reach the top, I realize I have two messages. The first is from Detective Rasan, which isn’t unusual. He calls once every couple of months to check on me and let me know he hasn’t given up. Although it hurts to know he’ll never find the man who murdered my sister, it’s a comfort to know her memory isn’t dead to everyone but me. My parents, thank God, were already dead when she was killed, so they never had to feel the pain I’ve lived through. It’s just me to keep her memory alive. And I do. I have pictures of her on my mantel and on my dresser, and every year on her birthday, I throw a huge party in her honor at a downtown bar she worked at during college. It’s an epic celebration and one she’d be proud is thrown in her name.

  I make a mental note to call Detective Rasan back tomorrow and let him know I’m okay so he won’t worry. After a long hot shower, I step in front of the mirror and see the beginning of two black eyes forming. Great. The tweaker may not have broken it, but it will look as if I’ve been beaten up. Concealer might help with that, but by tomorrow morning, it’ll probably be too dark for concealer to cover it completely. I don’t look forward to the double takes and odd looks I’ll get in public until the remnants of the attack fade. Luckily, I have the next two days off and don’t plan on leaving the house except maybe for a trip to the grocery store.

  Four

  Wes

  I’m awake and drinking a cup of coffee, looking out the window at the snowplow as it moves through the parking lot of my apartment complex when my phone rings. It’s six in the morning and highly unusual for my phone to ring at all, much less at this hour of the day.

  “Hello,” I answer, not recognizing the number, the same one from yesterday.

  “Wes, it’s Rajesh.” I set my cup down and straighten my shoulders as a chill runs through me. It’s Detective Rajesh Rasan. The guy assigned to Jess’s sister’s case five years ago. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Listen, I’m sorry to bug you this early, but I need to get a hold of Jess. There has been a development in the case and I need her to come to the station. I also don’t know how long until this will hit the news. I don’t want her to hear it from someone else. I left her a message last night but she never called back.”

  “She worked last night. Probably figured it was too late to call. I’ll take a ride to her place and have her meet you at the station. When will you be there?”

  “In about thirty minutes.”

  “Okay, not sure how long until she can be there; she’s probably still sleeping.” In my mind, I flash to Jess asleep, curled on her side in what used to be our bed. Her chestnut hair spread across the pillow, her face soft in sleep. Then I shake the thoughts away before I have a chance to picture someone else next to her there. I don’t think anyone has been staying there, but I can’t be certain.

  “Make sure you come too; she’s going to need someone with her.”

  “Not sure she will agree with that.”

  “Make it happen. She shouldn’t come alone.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  We disconnect and I dump the remainder of my coffee in the sink and head to my room to finish getting dressed. The whole time I’m rushing through getting ready, memories of Jess tumble through my head. The smiles, the tears, the fights, the making up, and the moment everything changed. The dead look in her eyes as she told me to leave and never come back is a memory I wish I could banish, but one that resurfaces more often than not. I’ve seen her twice since that moment and neither went well. I know she’s going to balk about me going with her, but if Rajesh is adamant about me being there, then I will.

  I pull up in the driveway about twenty minutes later. When she’s been on the swing shift, she doesn’t wake up until around nine, so I’ll be dragging her out of bed with this news, which ought to be fun. Jess has never been a morning person. Add to that our history, me showing up unannounced and with this news… I don’t expect to get a happy reception.

  The doorbell chimes as I press the button and wait. A minute or two goes by and I press it again. Seconds later, Jess’s voice calls from somewhere in the house and my heart aches a little at the sound. “Coming!”

  I shove my hands in my pockets and wait. She peeks out the little window at the side of the door and then flips the locks. Her hair is in disarray like she’s been in a battle with a poltergeist, but it’s the two black eyes and scratches on her face and neck that freak me out.

  “What the hell happened, Jess? Are you okay?” I bark a little more abruptly than I should, but the shock is more than I can handle. My hand reaches out, seemingly of its own accord, to brush her cheek, and she takes a step back. Shit.

  “I’m fine. It was a patient last night. A drug addict. What the hell are you doing here and why are you here so flipping early? This better not be about shoveling my driveway because I didn’t want you doing it anyway.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and I sigh. I hate that it’s like this between us. So much hurt. So much history.

  “Let me come in, please? This has nothing to do with shoveling your driveway. And no, this can’t wait until later. I remember that you work late and mornings aren’t your thing. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be here.”

  She studies my face for several seconds and must see something in my expression that melts the ice a little because she opens the door further and steps aside to let me in. Once I’m inside, I follow her to the living room. She turns on a light and plops down in the recliner that used to be mine. Her heavy exhale prompts me to start talking before I’m ready. I’d rather sit and have coffee with her and listen to her deep-for-a-woman’s voice tell me about her evening at work, but we haven’t done that in so long, it’s just another memory.

  “Rajesh called me this morning.” Her head snaps up and her eyes widen a little as her teeth sink into her lower lip. “We need to go to the station. He needs to talk to you this morning, the sooner the better.”

  “He left me a message, but I thought it was him calling like he does every so often to check on me.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not; something is up. He wants me to take you down there this morning.”

  Abruptly, she stands. “I can take myself. I don’t need you going with me.”

  “He was specific that I come, sweetheart. I told the man I would, so I will. When it’s over, I’ll bring you home and you’ll be done with me. I try to stay out of your hair, but when a detective on your sister’s case calls and tells me I need to come with you, you bet your sweet ass I’m gonna do it. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but I want you to go upstairs and get dressed now. I’ll be in the Bronco waiting.”

  Her mouth opens like she’s going to argue and then she snaps it shut and rushes out of the room and up the stairs to get ready.

  Half an hour later, we are standing in front of the desk sergeant, asking to meet with Detective Rasan. After confirming with the detective that he was expecting us, we are buzzed through to the back and head to his desk. Dex, a police officer and friend, comes out of one of the offices and stops abruptly. “Wes, hey, man. How’s it going?” His smile is bright and his handshake is strong.

  “It’s going okay. We’re here to see Detective Rasan.” I turn to Jess to introduce her. “This is—”

  Before I can finish, he replies, “Jess Chapman. Good to see you, but what the hell happened to your face?” Then he pauses and crosses his beefy arms over his chest and shifts his focus to me.

  She glances quickly between the two of us. “Work. Wes didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Last I knew, nursing wasn’t like cage fighting. You want to elaborate?” D
ex demands rather than asks. He obviously doesn’t believe her and although he knows me, he doesn’t know me well enough to know I’d never hurt Jess. Not intentionally and never physically.

  “How do you know each other?” I question, perplexed. By the time I met Dex and his wife, Marina, Jess and I were officially divorced and I know I never mentioned her to him before.

  “It’s nothing.” Jess waves it off, shifting on her feet a little uncomfortably.

  At the same time, Dex answers, “A date gone wrong.”

  My spine straightens and my shoulders go back as the anger rises within. “A date?” We may have been divorced for four years now, but in my heart, she’ll always be mine. The idea of her dating is like a knife to my gut.

  Dex’s deep chuckle shakes his big body. “Not our date. She’ll have to fill you in. I need to meet up with Quinn. Good to see you both. Jess, call us if you have any issues.” He pats her shoulder gently before striding away from us.

  “You had a date go so badly that you called the cops?” I stare at her, wondering what the hell happened and not sure if I’m more pissed that a date went that badly or just that she was out on a date in the first place.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. It was taken care of quickly and it’s over, so there’s nothing to talk about. Can we go see the detective now?” Tamping down the desire to lose my cool and demand answers, I exhale and gesture in front of me so she knows to lead the way. She’s not mine. She’s not mine. She’s not mine. I repeat it over and over in my head until we finally reach Detective Rasan.

  He stands and greets us both with a quick handshake before asking us to follow him to a private room. My gut tightens. Bringing Jess here after all this time and Rasan taking us somewhere private to talk isn’t giving me the impression that this is good news. Once we’re in the tiny room, seated on metal folding chairs at the small table, he offers us a drink, which we both decline. Then he takes a seat across from us.