by Sam Destiny
“You’ve always been the worst liar ever,” Kris pointed out, leaning into him, and he wrapped her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. It reminded him of last night, and the way he’d done the same with Tessa. Then he’d needed the touch to comfort himself, now he was doing it to ease someone else’s worries.
“I will be fine. I come from a country riddled with war, Kristine, and it leaves scars, both mental and physical, but I promise you I won’t go anywhere.” Because suicide wouldn’t right the wrong fate had committed. No, instead he’d be going through the motions, making sure no one else ever would have to die because of him.
“We bought a house here, Jesse, to be closer to you during the next months,” his mother stated and he turned to her, staring at her back. She had her head bowed and yet, her shoulders weren’t quivering. She seemed to be in control of her emotions this time around.
“That’s not necessary, mom,” he tried to soothe her, but instead she shook her head.
“It isn’t? Thomas is worried about you, and so are the doctors. You’re not talking about what happened, and you refuse to take any kind of medication to get you out of here faster. You’re punishing yourself, and no one knows for what. It doesn’t matter how often you tell us that you’re fine, son. We’re worried and we won’t stop until we know you’re accepting all the help you can,” she announced, and though her voice was quiet, it felt like a slap to his face. His ears were ringing with the intensity of her words.
“You cannot understand. No one can help me because no one has been there with me.” That wasn’t true, he realized, but then Betty wasn’t in the room. “The doctors weren’t, and neither were you or Tank. He’s a soldier all right, but he doesn’t know what I know, hasn’t seen what I’ve seen. He’s been here, safe and sound, going after every skirt that was short enough. And telling you won’t change a fucking thing because it doesn’t make the sun burn less on my skin when I flashback, or the sand hurt less wherever it rubs into my skin and crunches between my teeth. Plus, last night my night terror was so much shorter than all the others before, which is a good sign, right? So I’d appreciate it if everyone could just get out of my damn mind,” he fussed, realizing only after he fell silent that he’d been screaming and a doctor stood in the door. It wasn’t Ryan, which was good because the fucker needed some sleep and needed to stay out of his business, but the expression on the older man’s face didn’t do anything to make Jazz glad about seeing him.
“The terror was shorter because your doctor found something that ends those nightmares, Corporal Connor, but frankly, we cannot call a woman in here every night just so you don’t hurt yourself. By the way, I’m Doctor Tom Chase, and I need the two pretty ladies to leave now because you, Corporal, are getting another MRT and ultrasound.”
He was maybe in his fifties, or a little younger, and his hair was gray, just like the stubble on his cheek, varying shades giving him an air of wisdom. His eyes were a clear blue, almost icy, and the way his coat tightened around the biceps as he crossed his arms told Jazz Dr. Chase definitely was fit and a regular at some gym.
“Of course, Doctor. I think my son made it pretty clear that we and our worries aren’t welcome here, so we’ll leave until we have better control on our emotions and can pretend the world is full of flowers and unicorns,” his mother said, her voice clipped, getting up. Kris stood, too, not looking at him anymore, and he regretted his outburst.
“Mom, wait,” he called after her, but his mother just gave him a sad smile over her shoulder, promising to be back soon.
Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he wondered if one day he would really care as little as he wished he’d do.
Maybe that would give him some peace of mind at least.
Tessa shifted the infant in her arms, trying to unlock her car, but her hands were shaking and John was fussing, heavier than he should be. It was barely eleven and yet Tessa had to rush home, grab the travel bed for her son and then get to the studio on time to start her show, when all she wanted was to curl up in bed.
Though the doctors had warned her she might be dealing with emotional breakdowns for months after the birth, she had hoped she wouldn’t, because this was just ridiculous.
“Tessa.” She closed her eyes since the last person she wanted to see when struggling was Tank.
“Thomas,” she greeted him coldly. Though he’d been nothing but polite ever since she’d returned, she couldn’t forget the way he’d talked about her before Jazz had left to go on this cursed mission.
“Are you... okay? You sound weird,” he commented. She hadn’t even turned to look at him.
“And you’re the pro on me now or what?” she snapped.
“Hey, look, you’re worried about him, and I’m worried about him, so let’s stick together. Plus… you have a fucking baby, Tessa, in a country that’s not your home. I just… Please, I just want to help you until he realizes what’s going on. I’m a fucking douche, and I still think if we’d be back where we were that first day I’d react the same way, but things changed, Tessa.” He sounded actually helpless and she shivered, more tears falling even though that wasn’t what she wanted.
“Tessa? Thomas?”
Tessa froze, her hand on the key. At least she’d finally fumbled it into the lock. This cannot be happening.
“Mom, it’s Tessa! Oh my God, I knew you’d be coming. I… is that a baby?” Kristine, Jazz’s sister, stilled just a few steps away from her.
“Yes, my son. I messed up and Tessa has been helping me. I suck with babies.” The little guy was lifted from her hands and she stared at Tank, his gray-blue eyes imploring her to trust him.
“He’s adorable, but he doesn’t exactly look like you,” Kris announced, although Tessa still felt the other woman’s eyes on herself. “By the way, hey girl! I’m so glad you’re here.”
Tessa couldn’t say anything, just watching Tank handle her boy, and it was incredible how tiny the infant looked in the soldier’s hand—and how tenderly he was holding him.
“Sorry, dude, dad’s not good with that. His mother just dropped him off for two days, and I knew Tess was in town. Figured she could help. What a coincidence. And she agreed to help.” He shrugged, babbling and smiling as if that really was what had happened.
After another round of silence Tessa found herself in Kristine’s arms, being hugged tightly.
“Why are you here? Don’t you have school?” Tessa asked. College had started up already, she knew that, but Kris stood in front of her anyway.
“She transferred from Florida up here. We figured Jazz needs us… even though right now I’m not sure anyone should be going by that hospital bed…” Raphaela stepped towards them, too, and Tessa couldn’t help but look around. All the people gathered there were somehow in connection with Jazz—and they all looked like shit. Raphaela definitely had been crying, Tank hadn’t been sleeping, and Kris was pale as if she’d collapse any second.
“Mrs. Connor,” Tessa whispered, hugging Jazz’s mom. The woman was shaking.
“Raphaela, remember?” They don’t know yet that we aren’t a couple anymore. The thought slammed into Tessa, her heart breaking all over again. When her phone buzzed in her pocket she realized she had to get going. The problem was if she now grabbed the child, she couldn’t keep the pretenses anymore, and Tank’s cover-up-lie would be revealed.
“Tank, it’s time,” she stated, hoping he’d catch on.
“Of course,” he said. “Shit, I almost forgot. Wait.” He opened the car door one-handed and then strapped the little guy into his seat as if he did it every day… as if this really were his son.
“Thanks for driving us,” he then told her with a gentle smile.
“We need to get going, I gotta get to work,” Tessa said in a way of apology toward Raphaela and Kristine. She’d have loved getting together with them, but with how things were between Jazz and her, she didn’t want to. She couldn't face the talk.
“Here’s my number. Call me up if y
ou’re a round a bit longer,” Kris begged and Tessa swallowed.
“Okay,” she replied, hoping it sounded as non-committing as she meant it. She really liked those two, but they no longer were anything to her besides the mother and sister of the man she loved with all her heart.
“Betty, hey.”
Jazz didn’t look up as she came in, but by the way lips pressed against his cheek he knew it was her. Tessa hadn’t been bold enough to do that, and she surely wouldn’t ever do that again after the things that had transpired between them. Again. The thing was, he didn’t feel like talking to Betty, either.
God, he’d fucked up majorly with his family, and before that with his best friend, and he didn’t know if he could fix it again… if he should fix it.
“Your shrink is gonna come in a few minutes. Are you ready for that? Ready to talk about the hell down there?” Betty’s voice started shaking and yet, she sat on the bed, holding his hand and squeezing tight.
“I don’t know if I want to. You know how it is, Bets. You cannot really put it into words, can you? People that haven’t been there cannot imagine what we went through. Plus, what am I going to tell them? They took me because I’m the best fucking mechanic they could find, and it turns out I killed six people because in the end I actually wasn’t?”
Betty winced, her hazel eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t care. There was no reason to prettify what had happened.
“That’s not true. You didn’t shoot them. You didn’t bring the cars to explode. It wasn’t your fault,” she protested, but he didn’t care. In fact, only he knew the truth.
“Look, just leave it be, okay? I’m…” He interrupted himself when the guy she’d announced had walked in.
It was a young guy, blond hair, surfer attitude, and not a care in the world. The bad part was that they probably were about the same age, and yet Jazz felt a million years older.
“Hey, you remember me, right? I don’t know, the first day you were pretty out of it. Will’s the name. I can call you Jesse, right?” As if they were old friends and it would change something. Never. Jazz had no intention whatsoever to share what he’d experienced down there. Not with that guy, not with his mother, and most of all, definitely not with Tessa.
“Whatever,” he shrugged and the guy pulled a chair closer, not caring that Betty was still in the room. Jazz arched a brow at her and she stubbornly pushed her lip out.
“I’m staying. I think you need the mental support,” she whispered, but not quiet enough to make it impossible for Will to hear, because he nodded.
“Is that true, Jesse? Do you need mental support? Do you feel—”
“Thanks, Bets, but I think you should go. You know, I’ll definitely be able to handle this,” Jazz assured her, gently probing her until she got off the bed.
“I heard Tessa was here last night,” she stated in a hushed tone and Jazz nearly groaned.
“The woman from your nightmares?” Will prompted and Jazz wanted to throw something.
“Betty, you’re not my doctor and I don’t want you to be, either, so please stay out of my files,” he demanded, his voice gentle though. She was the only person he still could relate to and he didn’t want to lose her, too.
“Promise,” she said after a long moment of hesitation and then left, closing the door from the outside.
“So, Tessa,” Will picked up again and Jazz wondered if maybe talking about hell was the better choice after all.
Another day had passed, and for once Jazz agreed to take a sleeping pill and promptly he’d slept through the night. The thought of swallowing anything numbing had terrified him. Worse, though, had been the prospect of waking up to Tessa in his arms again, her body pressed to his, because that he couldn’t deal with. A guy could only be strong so long, and Tessa was everything he shouldn’t want.
“You know, I get paid for sitting here even if you don’t talk.”
Jazz groaned. He’d nearly forgotten the shrink was back. Will. It was weird calling the guy by his first name because it made Jesse feel as if they’d know each other so much better than they really did. Hell, he didn’t even know Will’s last name.
“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” Will went on as Jazz didn’t react and the soldier glanced over to the other man.
The psychiatrist took out his cell and before long Jazz realized a slow song was playing, then a female voice came on.
“What time is it?” he wanted to know. He couldn’t say if it was lunch yet or not because he refused food anyway.
“Half past one,” Will replied helpfully.
Jazz’s heart squeezed. Tessa-time, and the guy had turned on her show.
“TR here again! I cannot believe how many people actually write follow-up mails to ask how certain stories turned out. And one you all are most interested in is Desert Heart’s story.”
Oh God, it was she, and she was talking about him. Again. Hell, couldn’t people mind their own business? He should’ve never made that call—and yet, he couldn’t really regret it, either. It had been the last time he ever would tell Tessa what she meant to him.
“You’ve been to the desert, Corporal?” Will asked and Jazz’s head snapped around, his eyes wide.
“What do you mean? Did you read my file?” Did everyone in this fucking hospital know his story?
“Didn’t have to. When the radio girl said desert, you bunched up the blanket.” He pointedly looked at Jazz’s hands, and Jazz released the material, realizing that his knuckles had turned white with his grip.
Not desert. His entire alias. And what a stupid one he’d picked.
“Do I know Desert Heart? I guess the secret’s out because he called me by my first name. He knows me, so I definitely know him. My forever guy.”
“Forever guy,” Jazz echoed quietly. He leaned forward on the bed, one leg pulled up while he rested an elbow on it. His skin was cool as he pressed his forehead against his arm, focusing on Tessa’s voice only.
“I wish I could give you the great update, the tale about how everything is perfect, but sometimes life doesn’t play that way. Hell, when he left I didn’t think he’d even remember my name for longer than a week.” She swallowed quietly and Jazz wondered if he’d ever heard anything but her voice or music on air, but the sound of her trying to keep herself together penetrated the silence of the room. His heart thudded in his chest, banging against his ribcage.
Did she really think he’d forget about her? Or was she just saying this to make the story better?
Nope, he knew Tessa better than that. She’d been self-conscious when he’d met her and therefore he assumed she meant what she’d said.
“What’s wrong?”
The shrink still hadn’t left.
“Huh?”
“You shook your head. Why?”
“Not remembering her name for long. Women sometimes are unaware of how amazing they are. Some names are branded into your body, mind, and soul.” And now, Jazz, shut up because Will is having a field day with you, his brain scolded and he gritted his teeth.
“… it all changed. My soldier hasn’t fully returned from his hell yet.No matter what’s coming, I hope his friends and family will have him back one day, maybe more scarred, yet just as generous and sweet as I remember him.”
Damn, he’d missed part of what she’d said, but he got the sentiment. “And now, I’d appreciate if you let Desert Heart’s story rest—and therefore mine, too. Life isn’t about happy endings. Life is about happy moments since those patch up the quilt of our being. He will always be with me, because those three weeks I carry in my heart. Part of him will stay with me forever. Whatever life throws my way; I can handle it because he made me stronger.”
She trailed off, and there was a heartbeat of silence before a song started. She didn’t announce it, and he didn’t need to hear her voice to know it would’ve cracked because tears were sliding down her cheeks.
He’d been there once, had seen it, knew the signs.
; He still remembered the way she’d sat next to the hotel bed they’d shared the morning he’d been deployed; the way her shoulders had been shaking with sobs… and damn if it didn’t still hurt.
“Fuck, Tess,” he whispered, wishing she’d actually walk in right then because he needed to hold her just one more time. Kiss her forehead one more time. Look into her eyes until he was ready to drown… just one more time.
“Fuck Tess? What did she do? And what exactly makes you think of her right now?” Will prompted and Jazz moved until he sat at the edge of the bed, glaring at the psychiatrist.
“Not ‘fuck Tess’. If you’re soon keen on listening to my muttering make sure you get the accentuation right,” he snapped, but Will just leaned back in his chair while Jazz started pacing.
God, he wanted to run. Just an hour or so. It would probably be enough. Or maybe not. He had no clue how long his body would cooperate.
“This show riles you up, Corporal. Why is that? Did her mention of the desert cause memories? Flashbacks?” Will questioned and Jazz closed his eyes. For the first time since he’d woken up after that day everything blew up around him, he had a pleasant memory: Tessa leaning in to kiss his back, her hair rumbled, her smile infectious. She’d been beautiful first thing in the morning, warm and soft, and all woman.
A shiver of longing went through him, so strong he curled his hands into angry fists. He could almost feel her skin under his hands, the way her chest had risen with every shaken breath she drew. She’d been nervous, and yet had given him all she had to offer.
Shaking free of the pictures, he reminded himself that never again he would feel a connection like he had with her… because he didn’t deserve it.
He’d killed his comrades; was responsible for so much heartache out there tender moments no longer belonged to his life.
Ending the show, Tessa stood from her chair and went to the bed in the corner. Johnny had slept through it all, only now stirring because she reached inside to rouse him.