Finding Forever (Colorado Veterans Book 6)

by Tiffani Lynn

  Once I’m done with that fruitless and frustrating meeting, I stop by the hardware store and pick up a doorbell camera to install at Jess’s house. As I’m checking out, I hear my name and turn toward the voice to find Dave standing about five feet from me. I hold up my finger, cueing him to wait a second, and finish checking out. Then we step off to the side.

  Dave was my counselor for a while as I was trying to work through the PTSD and survivor’s guilt I had after I returned from the hellhole in the Middle East. I saw him several times a week for two years and then once a month for another year. I’m forever grateful for his patience and wisdom. Since my time as his patient ended, we’ve grown an actual friendship. There aren’t many people I talk to, I mean really talk to, but he’s one.

  “I saw the news earlier. I was planning to call you after you got off work today.”

  “I took the day off to get situated. I’m going to play bodyguard for a little while since the press are like flies on shit right now with this.”

  “I didn’t realize you and Jess had reconciled. It hasn’t been that long since we stopped at the bar for a beer, has it?”

  I bet he’s confused as hell. He remembers how much Jess hated me and how rough it was for me to drag my ass through each day after she asked for the divorce. I give him the short version of recent events and wait for his response.

  “Are you sure this is what’s best for you?” His brow furrows as he studies me.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m not expecting anything to come of all this. I just want to make sure she’s taken care of, and I’m doing it the only way I know how. You’d do the same in my shoes.”

  His lips tip up a little on one side. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I just worry about you. You’ve come a long way. I’d hate to see that derailed.”

  “’Preciate it, but I’m okay. It’s all about expectations.”

  “Okay, well, I have to get back to the office, I have a client coming in, so call me when you get some time so we can grab a beer and catch up.” We shake hands and go our separate ways but my mind lingers on his concern. I’m probably opening myself up to some more heartbreak. I can’t seem to control the waves of emotion that crash over me when it comes to Jess, so he’s right to be concerned. But I’ve also never shied away from pain to save myself when I can help someone else. I might not have been capable of taking care of her when Darrien was murdered, but I am now, so there is no way I’m leaving her to deal with this on her own.

  Nine

  Jess

  Before my dinner break, there’s a note on my computer to see the hospital administrator. With a heavy sigh I grab my lunch box and ride the elevator down to the first floor. My knock is soft on the door and I only have to wait a second before Mr. Smith calls for me to enter.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Smith?”

  “Ah, yes. Come on in, Ms. Chapman,” he greets as he gestures for me to sit in one of the two high-back, black leather chairs facing him across his desk.

  “George, the head of security, met with your ex-husband today. He explained the situation.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry it’s such a circus. I don’t even know how they found out where I work.”

  “The press has their ways,” he grumbles.

  Leaning back in his chair, he laces his fingers together across his midsection like he’s trying to appear comfortable. “I’m sorry for all you’re facing, Ms. Chapman. I understand that this is a difficult time for you. I spoke with your supervisor while you were on break and suggested that you take some time off during all of this, but she said you wouldn’t be open to that.”

  I nod slowly, indicating that he’s correct, and try to see where he’s going with this. I’ve never been a big fan of Mr. Smith. He has a beady-eyed look that makes me nervous, so I’m taking in his words with caution.

  “If things get worse with the press or weirdos showing up here, I will have to insist you take some time off. I can’t have the privacy and comfort of the patients compromised because the staff is dealing with some things in their personal lives. For now, I’ll tolerate it and see if your ex-husband can get things under control. I do understand how hard this must be, just keep that in mind moving forward. It might be what’s best for everyone involved.”

  I’m stunned silent. He’s not making me take time off but he’s insinuating that if things get any worse or continue as they are, he will force that hand. I expected him to say a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them. I have a tendency to say what I feel when I feel it and not worry about the consequences. It’s served me well most of my life and only gotten me into a few situations I didn’t enjoy as an adult, but I do my best to keep my mouth in check while dealing with my superiors. Because of the situation, my boss-filter takes a flying leap out the window.

  “Mr. Smith, are you saying that something completely out of my control is jeopardizing my job? That if I don’t get the press under control, I’ll be forced to take time off? Which will in turn affect my livelihood? That seems quite unfair. I didn’t ask for my sister to be kidnapped and murdered. I didn’t ask for them to wait five years to find the killer and I certainly didn’t ask for the hassle of reporters following my every move.”

  “Now, Ms. Chapman, that’s not what I’m saying—” He tries to backtrack but I cut him off as I stand, ready to haul ass out of the room.

  “I’ve worked here for years, given you days, nights, weekends and holidays. I’ve filled in for others so you wouldn’t be short-staffed and I’ve helped wherever I can. One sign of a problem—that is not of my doing—and you’re ready to set me aside. If it does come to that for you, Mr. Smith, I may be looking across town for new employment. So, you have to decide if you want to keep an excellent employee or shove her aside during one of the most difficult times in her life.”

  I stand and march toward the door, done with this conversation. I’ve known the head of HR at Memorial for years and could transfer there in a heartbeat with one phone call, so I’m not playing his bullshit game today.

  “Ms. Chapman, we can talk more about this in a few days.” I nod once and march out the door with no intention of eating my dinner. My appetite is officially gone.

  The rest of my shift is busy enough that neither my sister, nor Wes, nor the hospital administrator are at the forefront of my thoughts. I’ve always been able to lose myself in work, and it’s probably what saved me five years ago when my whole world fell apart.

  When eleven o’clock rolls around and I punch out, I find Wes waiting for me inside the door to the employee parking lot.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  “Long,” I groan.

  “Well, it might take us a little bit to get out of here, but I have the Bronco, so if those reporters don’t move, I’ll run them over.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’m too tired to fight you for their right to live. I was hoping they would be gone by tonight.”

  “Me too, but there has been a development, so they won’t be going anywhere quite yet,” he notes gravely.

  “What happened?” I pause, dreading what he has to say.

  “Let’s get to the Bronco and I’ll fill you in.”

  What could it be now? I’m praying he says they found something in that house. If not, I’ll be pissed that it stirred up a lot of stuff that was better left in a comfortably numb place in my soul.

  Once we work our way through the throng of newscasters camped out waiting for me and drive to my house, I’m worn out. How can I work a whole shift and not be as tired as I am fighting my way through a bunch of pushy reporters asking personal and painful questions?

  When we arrive at my place, I’m taken aback by the aroma filling my nose as soon as we cross the threshold. Wes’s chili is my second favorite food and only beat out slightly by his omelets. I stop in my tracks and close my eyes as memories flow through me slowly and sweetly. At least once a week, I would come home from work to his chili cooking on the stove when he wasn�
��t deployed. I take a few more steps because I know it’s possible I will also catch the hint of Mr. Clean, and I do, because chili day also meant cleaning day for Wes. I used to come home on chili night to also find the bathrooms cleaned and the floors vacuumed and mopped throughout the house.

  That was one of my favorite things about having a man like Wes love me. Some people don’t understand it’s not about the marriage certificate or the pretty diamond ring. It’s the little things about love that make it so much a part of you that your soul embraces it and hangs on to it forever. Wes knew how much I adored his chili and how much I loathed cleaning bathrooms and mopping. I don’t mind vacuuming but I think he threw it in there as a little something extra. I never asked him to do those things, he just did, and when he was on deployment, I missed those special things, making me appreciate them even more when he was home. Because of the way our lives fell apart on his last deployment, he hasn’t done them for me in about six years.

  “Jess?” his voice is quiet, close.

  I open my eyes to find his concerned eyes focused on me. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

  Do I tell him how much I’ve missed him? Do I tell him that there is nothing else on this earth that I want to eat tonight other than his chili? Do I swallow my pride and thank him? I’m not sure if I should confess all the things running through my head.

  For so many years I’ve been unforgiving and angry at him for how things were when he came home. He’s probably been the same, because I was no peach to deal with either. Hanging on to that and the grief of losing my sister the way I did has been exhausting and so damn painful. I’m not sure if I’m just overwhelmed by exhaustion, confused by nostalgia or really happy to come home tonight to all that is Wes, so I try for a neutral answer.

  “I was taking a moment to enjoy the scent of Mr. Clean and your chili. How that combination can be so soothing, I have no idea.”

  His brow relaxes and the little lines around his eyes appear as a smile forms under that ratty-ass beard. “Come on, get comfortable and I’ll get you a bowl and fill you in. I talked to Rajesh before I came to get you.”

  I hustle upstairs and take a quick shower to rinse the funk off from the day in the ER, and throw on a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt I’ve had for years. Wes and I got it on our honeymoon in Nashville and it’s practically threadbare.

  When I make it back to the kitchen, there are two steaming bowls on the table of chili, one bowl of shredded cheddar cheese, and another of oyster crackers. My water bottle mixed with Crystal Light is also there. He hasn’t forgotten a thing.

  “You waited to eat with me? Aren’t you starving?”

  “Nah, I work late a lot and stagger my meals accordingly. I’m not on a set schedule, except waking up at five thirty every morning. Of course, now, I roll over and go back to sleep for an hour. Never could do that before.”

  “I remember. It used to drive me crazy that your alarm would go off and wake me up after only a few hours of sleep for me.” I laugh a little thinking it’s funny the things that stick with you. Then I continue. “So, I’m anxious to hear what’s up.”

  “Rajesh said he can’t divulge the specifics of what they found but there was plenty to indicate that your sister wasn’t the only one. He said they’re sorting through a ton of shit, looking for concrete evidence, that right now they don’t have solid evidence, just a bunch of creepy shit.”

  “What if they don’t find something solid? I don’t think I’ll get over it if they dig all of this up and don’t convict him. I know he did it. It’s too much of a coincidence that they’ve looked at him twice now. I want to be able to ask him why he took her from me.” I sit back in my chair and fiddle with the napkin in my lap.

  “Us,” he states quietly.

  “What?” I ask, confused. Is he having a different conversation that I’m unaware of?

  “He took her from us. I’ve never gotten over it either and I’m not sure I ever will.”

  In all my grief, I’ve always discounted his. How could I be so selfish? He and Darrian had a great relationship and I don’t think I’ve ever processed that until now.

  “I’m sorry. I know you loved her too. She loved you so much and worried about you when you were deployed. I swear it kept her awake as much as it did me.”

  He reaches over and grips my hands in my lap and squeezes. “Eat before it gets cold, and I’ll finish.” He directs and then releases my hands so I eat. “I spoke to Dex today and he and Quinn will be there to help us tomorrow on the way in, the hospital security staff are also aware, but I don’t expect too much from them. It sounds like the hospital administrator doesn’t want to wade into this. It pissed me off that they weren’t concerned about your safety.”

  “I was summoned by Mr. Smith, the hospital administrator, who told me today that I may have to take a leave of absence if his parking lot continues to be a zoo.”

  Wes’s eyebrows hit his hairline, clearly surprised by Mr. Smith. “Do you want to do that?”

  “No, but I don’t know if I have a choice if he pushes. I prefer to be busy and the best way to do that is to work. The ER is never quiet and I can forget all of this for short periods of time when I’m immersed in work.”

  “I’m not sure he can force you to take a leave of absence for something like that if your performance isn’t taking a hit. It doesn’t seem right. Do you want me to look into it? My boss’s husband is a lawyer. I don’t think he handles this kind of stuff but I’m sure he knows someone who does or can point us in the right direction.”

  Us. I always loved the sound of that. Having Wes as part of my “us” was something I was so proud of. It’s strange that all of these things I lost sight of for so long are hitting me tonight.

  “I would appreciate it. Did you say your boss’s husband? Is he gay?”

  Wes’s deep chuckle fills the room. “No, my boss is a she. Colby Averette Martinez. When I started working there, she was a mechanic and a monster truck driver. Her dad, the original shop owner, died, and her sister—who is the business manager—was getting cancer treatments. Colby was drowning in obligations, trying to take care of the books, the cars and live out of town five days out of every week for monster truck shows. Colby’s brother, brother-in-law, and sister hired me to work part-time to pick up her slack in the shop. Now I still work part time, but put in extra hours as I feel like it and Colby is no longer on the road for monster truck.”

  “That’s cool. I love seeing women in traditional male roles. What’s she like?”

  “A great mechanic and a good person. Spunky at times. Her husband, Victor, has his hands full, but in a good way. You’d like both of them. The whole family is great. I couldn’t have stumbled into a better situation.”

  “You only work part-time?” I take a bite of my chili and hold back a moan. I love this stuff.

  “Yeah, I get one hundred percent disability from the Army, so I don’t need to work. I’m like you though. If I work, I don’t think so much about all the shit that has gone on in my life. I can tune it out until my hands are idle again.”

  “You never did shy away from work. Something your dad taught you for sure.”

  “Yeah, the old man never sits down for long.”

  “How are your parents?”

  “Good. Slowing down. I need to visit them. They don’t travel anymore. My sister is there, checking on them every day. They need to sell the farm but my dad swears it’s what keeps them alive.”

  I always loved Wes’s family farm in Nebraska. Cold in the winter, but during the summer, it’s a beautiful place to be. “Are they still working it?”

  “No, they have hired a whole crew for that. The two of them care for the chickens, cows and pigs, but don’t have many of those anymore.”

  “How’s your sister?”

  “Sad, but okay.”

  “Why is she sad?”

  “She and her husband split. Turns out he didn’t feel like being faithful and she felt like that was
an important part of marriage.”

  “Holy shit. Dan turned out to be a cheater?”

  “Yeah. I happened to be in town when she found out. She came to Mom and Dad’s in a total freak-out. Apparently, she literally caught him in the act. It was some young teller from the bank he worked at. Needless to say, I got arrested for assault that night.”

  “You got arrested? What the hell?”

  “If you saw Maryann that night, you’d understand. My baby sister was broken and he was the cause. She found out during the divorce that this girl wasn’t the only one. He had been with four other women that we could find. It’s amazing that he didn’t bring some kind of STD home to Maryann.”

  “I’m glad you beat his ass. Your sister is the best person. I hate him for that.”

  “Me, too. I’m just pissed that Maryann has to be tied to him forever because of the kids.”

  “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe I forgot about the kids. I’m such a jerk. Tell me about them.”

  “Paulina is nine now, I think, and sweet and smart and very thoughtful of everyone around her. She’s a bit of a tomboy now, but I can tell she’s going to be a knockout like my sister was, and my dad will have to have his shotgun ready when the boys start showing up. Tommy is all boy. Dirty, energetic and funny and has no filter. They both look like Maryann, thank God.”

  I smile, but inside, my heart hurts. Maryann and I were so close and I cut her out of my life too. “Do you have any pictures of the kids?”

  He picks up his phone, presses a few things on the screen and then passes it to me. There, in picture after picture, are Maryann’s clones in kid-form. A beautiful, sandy-blond girl with a lopsided grin just like her mom and grandma, and a cute little boy with close-cropped hair the same color, and a dimple in his smile.