“But he’s dead, Jake. So, this trip is about you.”
My gaze snapped to her. “Don’t sugarcoat it, sweetheart.”
“Well, maybe it’s time for some tough love. It sucks, what happened to you. War sucks. And watching your friend die must have been…I can’t even imagine. But you’re here. And people love you. And we want you to be alive. With us. That’s what Cody wanted too, right?”
“Don’t talk about what he wanted. You didn’t know him.”
She nodded. “Okay. I get that.”
“I can’t be happy when he’s dead. I can’t love you when he’ll never love again. I can’t have you.” My throat hurt.
“You already have me. I love you, Jake. I’m yours whether you like it or not.”
Fuck. My heart hurt. I wrapped my arms around her. Dropped my forehead to hers.
“You’re shaking,” she said.
“You’re so fucking soft.”
“You’re going to be all right. We’ll figure this out. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said. Just to make her happy. “Will you come back in now?”
“Yeah.”
I left the lights off, and the moonlight flooded in through the big windows. I pulled Hannah to the couch, then onto my lap.
I buried my nose in the crazy spirals of her hair. She smelled like flowers. Her skin was warm and soft. Her breath coming in soft little puffs.
I didn’t know when I would see her again.
Sure, I’d be back. She taught yoga in my building. Our paths would cross.
But it would be different. It had to be.
Just like everything else, I had to let her go. Set her free.
I traced the shape of her shoulder. Planted a kiss on a freckle above her collarbone. Just because I still could.
“This speech tomorrow,” I sighed. “I need it to be over.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say?” she asked quietly.
I shook my head, trying to think. “Yeah. I wrote it down. But, fuck, it’s all lies. I’m no hero.”
“It doesn’t matter. People need to see you and applaud. The O’Donnells need it.” She exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed. “After my mom died, I felt guilty when I was happy. Like I was betraying her. It took me a long time to see I was making a graveyard out of my heart, in some kind of mistaken loyalty.”
But her mom didn’t die to save her.
She smoothed her hand through my hair. “You think you can’t be what I want.”
“I can’t.”
“You already are. Broken and half-full, you’re what I want.”
I shook my head, not willing to hear what she said.
After my speech tomorrow, I would leave.
Hannah.
I dropped my head to my chest.
In war, when men were on the brink of death, there were two approaches to take. If you thought they could survive, if you thought life was a real possibility, you used their name. You yelled their name, and you slapped their face, and you insulted their mother and their wife and their kids, anything to get them mad, fighting, anything to bring them back. Over and over, you shouted their name. But if you knew it was the end, if you knew they were an expectant and you were just there to witness the last breaths, it was better not to say their name. Better to just call them “buddy” or “soldier.” Better to let their spirit be free.
Hannah.
I would have to stop saying her name. As I let her go.
I hugged her, hard. She was heaven in my arms. The closest thing I’d come to absolution. The closest I’d come to letting myself be happy.
Her lips found mine. Soft. Full of forgiveness. And love.
She loved me. It was rain and sunshine. Pain and the cure for my pain, both.
I cradled her head and kissed her with every ounce of passion I had. I would fill her up. Make her feel loved.
One last time.
I laid her down on the carpet in my living room and quietly pulled her dress off. Then her panties. She lay before me in the moonlight. Gorgeous. Generous.
I loved her.
I traced the shape of her with my hands, burning her into my memory. For the long cold nights on the hard ground. And I kissed her. Pleasured her with my mouth and my cock until she arched and cried my name.
“Jake,” she said. “Jake.”
And I was with her.
I held her tight.
Hannah.
Chapter 41
Hannah
He loved me.
He loved me. He loved me. He loved me.
And he was ashamed of it. Fought against it.
In twenty-four hours, Jake would be gone.
I squeezed my eyes closed. Wishing I could sleep and blissfully forget, even for an hour.
But no sleep would come.
I could fight for him. Try to make him see that he was worthy of love. Try to be everything he needed me to be.
Or I could accept my truth. I was sad. And lost. And I knew he had to do this for himself.
There was no way to win. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Literally. I was wedged between Jake’s hard body and his stone fireplace.
I wriggled my way up to my feet, gathered my clothes, and pulled them on. Jake was still asleep, sprawled across his living room floor. Tough and muscled and scarred. My warrior.
I kissed his shoulder and fled from his house.
The sky was an endless inky black. I slid into my car and drove. Pumped up the music and turned west toward the mountains and drove. I couldn’t go home. And I couldn’t stay at Jake’s house. I couldn’t face reality. So, I drove and drove and existed in some in-between place. Neither here nor there.
He loved me. But he wouldn’t let himself be loved.
He was strangling himself with guilt over Cody’s death, and there was nothing I could do.
I banged my hand on the steering wheel. Love was supposed to conquer all. Where was my happily ever after?
The sun crested the eastern peaks. Bright, piecing shards of light cut across the valley. It was going to be another gorgeous bluebird day in the Rocky Mountains. Joke was on me. I scrubbed my hand over my eyes, adjusting to the light.
The thing was, I didn’t even want my fantasy life anymore. I didn’t care about the house and the kids and the dog and the happily ever after. I just wanted Jake. Exactly as he was. Broken. Stubborn. Beautiful.
But I couldn’t have him. I had to face that fact, because it wasn’t going to change.
Tomorrow, he would be gone.
And I had to let him go.
My hands shaking, I pulled over on the side of the road.
If you love something, set it free.
I did love him. And he was free.
But I also loved myself.
And I needed to set myself free.
I opened the car door and climbed out on buttery legs. The valley spread before me, vibrant and green and alive. I arched my back and drank in the fresh morning, made new.
Suffering is part of life. But the suffering of suffering is a choice. I shook out my arms. Turned to face the rising sun. Spread open my hands and let the light touch me. Warm me.
I was okay. I jerked my chin in a nod. I was sad. And heartbroken. But I was okay. Or I would be.
I wasn’t going to let myself pine away for Jake these next five months in the hopes that he would come back a changed man. That he would return free of his demons. That he would let himself love me.
Jake had his own journey to live. And so did I. No more trying to be somebody different. Somebody better.
I was enough, just as I was. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
I was going to choose myself.
Later that day, Crystal slid into the passenger seat of my car. “You look like… Beautiful, Hannah! You look beautiful.”
“You were going to say I look like hell,” I grumbled, putting the car in gear.
“No I— Okay I was. You all right?”
; “Just peachy. Do you know how to get to the VFW, or should I map it?”
“It’s on East Willow.” She glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. “You’re dressed for a funeral. Should I change?”
“No.” I looked over at her. Long blond hair and a bright pink dress, she would light up the room. “You look gorgeous as always. Thanks for covering my classes today. I needed a mental health break.”
“You’re welcome. You can return the favor next week. My mom is going into surgery again.”
“Shoot. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not supposed to be a big deal. But thank you.”
“Let me know what you need.”
She sat back and blew out a breath. “I need someone to call insurance for me. I was on the phone with them over an hour today. It was brutal.”
“Can’t your dad do that?”
“You would think, but apparently, the answer is no.”
“You need a break. Somewhere warm and out of town. With a hot guy.”
“Too true. Too true.” She turned on the radio, and we settled into comfortable silence.
Traffic was thick, June being a big tourist time in Boulder. Finally, we pulled up to the VFW. Butterflies flailed in my belly.
I drove through the parking lot, but all the spaces were taken. “Jeez, there are a lot of cars here. Maybe there won’t be any seats left.”
“Nice try but you’re going to do this. We can stand in the back if we have to.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re bossy?”
She snickered. “There’s a spot up the street. On your left.”
“Mmm. Great.” I pulled over and turned the car off. “It’s not that I want to go home, it’s just…” I trailed off, my throat tight. “It’s just so many things tonight. All the things.”
She patted my leg. “That’s why we do yoga. For these moments, right? For the real-life stuff. Not to be flexible or have a nice ass, but so we can show up and face all life gives us.”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. Took another. Right. I knew how to do this. “Yeah, thanks.”
“You got this, girlfriend. Chin up.” Crystal handed me her lipstick, and I dutifully put it on. Not that it would make any difference. I looked like hell. I felt like hell. I was in a living hell. Pink lips weren’t going to change that.
I grabbed my purse, got out of the car, and stubbornly raised my chin. I was going to feel the pain of my breaking heart. I was going to live with it and not run away. And I was going to keep loving, because whether he knew it or not, this big, strong, beautiful, stubborn, scarred man needed me. And I was going to show up.
Later, I would allow myself to weep.
We followed a family with teenage kids into the VFW meeting hall. The room was dark and smelled like old cigarettes. I blinked, adjusting from the bright light outside.
Jake. He was already there. Standing up front among a group of people. He looked so handsome in uniform. I loved how the navy fabric hugged his impossibly broad shoulders. He was a far cry from the scruffy adventurer who lost himself in the mountains. This man could be in GQ.
But I could tell there was something off. Even from across the room, his eyes looked distant. Like he wasn’t really there. He was thinking about some far-off place. Some mountaintop, probably. Or maybe that day in Afghanistan.
I pressed my hand against my heart. I loved this man. I loved his strength and his vulnerability. I loved his grumpiness, and his teasing, and his quiet words when we were making love.
I loved him so much, and he was slipping away. Vanishing right before my eyes. I wanted to grab on to him, but I wouldn’t. Not this guy. Not this time.
Open hands. Freedom.
I turned to Crystal and whispered, “Let’s find a seat in the front where he can see us.”
“There’s an open row to our left.” She grabbed my hand and dropped her head close to mine. “Why are we whispering?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hi, Crystal. Hi, Hannah.”
I jumped and turned around.
“Oh, hi, Mike. Hi, Harrison.” Crystal smiled at them, and I felt certain they were half in love with her.
“Want to sit with us?” Mike Jr. stretched his neck up. Probably uncomfortable in his tie. “We’re with Brian.”
“We have seats up front.” I couldn’t be social. “Thanks, though.”
“See you after.” Crystal waved, and I dragged her to the front, off to the side but where Jake could still see me if he needed me, and sat. Then promptly wished I’d chosen a different seat.
The O’Donnells were a few rows behind us. The whole family was there, even the baby. I sank into my chair. I couldn’t deal with them. Not tonight, when I was so close to breaking.
My eyes found Jake again. I didn’t know how he was doing it, shaking hands and making small talk and giving hugs and taking photos. He stopped to greet a large, seated group of men and women in uniform.
But he looked tired. And sad. There were lines around his eyes and a crease across his forehead.
An older man in an official-looking uniform climbed on stage. “If everyone will please take their seats, Chaplain Miller will begin with a prayer.”
I rubbed my sweaty palms on my black dress. Jake took a seat in the middle of the front row. I barely heard the prayer or the other speakers. Blood roared in my ears. What was Jake going to say? Was he all right?
Finally, they called his name. It was his turn. He stood, squared his shoulders, and stepped up on stage.
Crystal patted my knee. “Breathe,” she whispered. “For him.”
I did. Long and slow. As if I could be the calm he needed for the storm to come.
“I’m honored by the opportunity to talk about our fallen comrade, Cody O’Donnell. And I’m grateful to the VFW and all present this evening, including the O’Donnell family. I must admit I was reluctant to come tonight. I think I refused the invitation—what was it, five times, Rick? The thing is—” He swallowed. “The thing is, I don’t talk about Cody very often. And I should. His name should be said out loud. He was my best friend. My brother. I think about him every day. Soldiers don’t show weakness. And there’s no way for me to do this without exposing my worst wound from battle. Not my physical wounds. Those I can deal with. But the loss of those who did not return. That’s a wound that never heals.”
I pressed my hands to my cheeks, my heart breaking.
“Our unit was called the Wolverines—” Half the room erupted in cheers, and Jake smiled, though his eyes still looked sad. “Cody and I joined up together. We did basic together. We were deployed together. We bunked together. And he died beside me. He still walks beside me today. I carry his memory everywhere.”
Jake stopped and took a deep breath. Then another. I blinked back tears.
“Cody was best known for his sense of humor. Most of his jokes aren’t fit for such an occasion—” Chuckles rolled through the room. Laughter spilling through the tears. “As the saying goes, When Irish eyes are smiling, they’re usually up to something. Cody proved this to be true. He got me into more scrapes than I can count, but talked us out of them too. Baffle them with blarney, he called it.
“Cody always had a gift for everyone’s birthday in our unit, even if it was a random pencil with their name scratched on it. Or a dirty word. Or his own ration of dessert. He was fun loving and generous and easy to like.
“The world lost a bright light the day he died. My world will never be the same. I owe him everything. Sometimes, it’s hard to make sense of it all, when someone so good and full of life is taken so young. But he died in an act of honor and bravery. He was a real-life hero. And he’ll never be forgotten.”
Jake nodded once, like he was satisfied. Then he walked off the stage and sat down in his seat.
A sob filled the room. Then another. Brenda O’Donnell stood up and led her mom from the room.
Silence followed, broken only by sniffles.
I had to leave. To flee. Bef
ore I fell apart too.
“I have to get out of here,” I whispered to Crystal. “Now.”
“I’ll get the car. Wait outside.” She found the keys in my purse and slipped out.
I stood in the shadows, skirted the edge of the room to the exit and escaped.
The fresh air was a balm. I sucked it in.
A hard fist had grabbed my heart and twisted. I felt doubled over by the force of it all. Jake. Cody. The O’Donnells. Brotherhood. War. Death. Love. And good-byes.
The door opened, and sound spilled out. Jake was there. Standing ten feet away, his hands curled at his sides. His gaze was hard on me. Pinning me.
My heart stopped.
He crossed the space between us in long strides. Grabbed me and pulled me against him. Buried his face in my hair. He was shaking. Just standing there, holding me, shaking. I think he whispered my name. Hannah. I murmured nonsense and fell apart and loved him so much, I would burst with it.
Then, he let me go and stepped back. He studied me, his face a mask. He didn’t say anything for a long time. He was disappearing before my eyes.
“You did great,” I said through the lump in my throat.
“I’ll miss you.”
“Be safe.” My voice broke. “Don’t get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt.” He was all confidence.
Seriously? “Nobody plans to get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt,” he repeated firmly. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
“I’m not going to wait for you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t wait.”
Sharp pain slashed through my chest, froze my lungs. I squared my shoulders, fought for breath. “Life is never perfect, you know. There’s never an easier time. Or some magical destination in the future where everything is fixed. It’s not like there’s something else”—I waved my arm—“wherever north is.”
He wrapped his strong, calloused fingers around my wrist, planted his other hand on my hip, and turned my body ninety degrees. “North is that way.”
“Whatever, that’s not—”
“Hannah, I—” He let go of me and stepped back.
“I mean to say I hope you find what you need.” I wrapped my hand over the spot where he’d been holding my wrist. As if I could press him deeper into my skin.
Breathless (Yoga in the City Book 1) Page 29