Forever Girl (Tagged Soldiers Book 2)

by Sam Destiny

  Lifting him, she wondered if he’d gotten heavier between when she’d placed him inside and this moment, but couldn’t tell.

  “Miss Rowan.” Her new boss, Ash, entered the studio and she nodded slowly.

  “Call me Tessa, please,” she insisted and he nodded his blond head. He was a Californian boy the way they were written in books: shining blue eyes, a wicked grin, and sun-kissed skin.

  “Tessa, would you like to go back and select your own emails and stories? We could set up the program for you and you could do it at home. That way the show would be… more you again, if that makes sense,” he explained, walking next to her while she gathered everything she’d need for the ride home.

  “Actually, it does.” She’d realized, too, that the show no longer was her baby, but only made by her, and it broke her heart. She didn’t mind that most mails and calls she got were about Jazz and her. However, she wouldn’t pick those for the show. It was for her listeners, for all the people wanting to connect with someone. Plus, she needed more good tales, not more heartache. “So yes, prepare that and I’ll—”

  “Here.” He shoved a bag at her—a laptop—and she blinked at him. He guiltily scratched the back of his neck, sighing. “We bought this concept, this show, and you with it for a shitload of money because it went viral within months. The thing is we never realized that the show was what it was because of you… because you picked it all by yourself. You gave it your own spin, and though we have listeners over listeners, they know you no longer do your own thing.”

  She loved the team she was surrounded with now, and she definitely liked that she now could get only selected callers, meaning all weirdos were sorted out before ever reaching her. But she missed reading the Emails. All of them, and not just what they deemed fit for the show.

  Even though reading through them meant she’d have to sit down and work at home. Yay, because she had so much time to spare anyway.

  Shaking her head to clear that thought from her mind, she grabbed the bag along with everything else, shifted John in her arm and went outside after telling Ash to text her all she needed to know about the laptop. She unlocked the car, shoving as much as she could into the trunk before finally being able to safely strap her son in.

  He was fussy, probably hungry, and she planned to take care of him as soon as she was home. Slipping behind the wheel, she paused for a second, her heart pounding and her head nearly splitting on her shoulders. She felt like crying, but didn’t allow herself to, no matter how strongly the pressure was building behind her eyelids.

  She had nothing to cry about and everything to be happy for. Starting the car, she put her headset in and turned on Bluetooth, knowing she was always receiving a call when she didn’t have it on.

  And really, just two minutes into the drive, her cell rang.

  “You fucking took my cell when you left for the show.”

  “Hey Hils,” she greeted her friend, smiling slightly. They did have the same phones, even though Hilary had a different casing. Not that Tessa had bothered checking. “I’m sorry, I was in a hurry,” she defended herself.

  “You’re always in a hurry. Anyway, I wouldn’t have realized it had a certain Ryan not called.”

  Jazz.

  Tessa nearly slammed on the breaks, but could keep herself from the knee-jerk reaction last minute. “What did he want?”

  “Ask if you have time for a meeting,” Hilary announced, her tone somber and somewhat pissed off.

  “Look, I’m sorry I took your phone, so please stop being mad,” she pleaded.

  “It’s not that. Jazz is back for four days, Tess, and was a jerk no doubt, but you already make plans with other guys? Who is he and why don’t I know anything about him?”

  “Dr. Ryan Spencer is Jazz’s doc, Hils. He was the one calling me two nights ago when Jazz had the night terrors. So if he’s calling, it’s serious,” she explained, pinching the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t go to the hospital, not with John with her. Besides, he needed to be fed and she couldn’t hand him off again. “Didn’t he say anything else?” she asked.

  “He sounded serious now that I think about it. Want me to meet you at the hospital?” Hilary offered and Tessa wanted to cry again.

  “I can’t ask that of you, Hils. You’ve been doing too much for me and—”

  “See you in fifteen,” she announced and then hung up.

  Jesus, Tessa wasn’t sure she could ever repay Hilary for all she did, and as much as she hoped it would never happen, maybe one day Hils would need her help, and then she’d move heaven and earth to make her friend happy again.

  Jazz stared out of the window, this time from the bed because his whole body hurt from the push-ups he’d tried to do, and Tessa came strolling in as if she owned the place. He stared at her, knowing she must’ve come straight there after her show. She carried a brown paperback with some logo on it and he squinted even though his heart skipped a beat… or ten.

  “Jazz,” she greeted him, her face passive as she put the bag at the end of the bed before taking off her jacket and kicking off her shoes. She crawled up on the mattress, stretching her legs next to his.

  “You don’t mind, right?” she asked, pointing at the brown paper, and he wordlessly shook his head. He felt as if he’d entered a parallel universe, one where nothing had happened between them except them becoming friends.

  “What are you doing here?” he finally asked as she opened the bag and pulled out a burger.

  “Having lunch. I’m a little late, but you know… oh come on!” Her face scrunched up in annoyance as she glanced back into the bag, and he almost smirked. She was adorable, and damn beautiful with her messy ponytail and without make-up.

  God, she was perfect.

  “I know I gained weight, but I didn’t get so fat I need two burgers,” she exclaimed angrily, pulling another wrapped bun out. Meeting his eyes for the first time since she’d entered, she shook her head. “Right? It’s just a little here and there, nothing much.”

  She held out one burger to him while focusing on the rest of the food, still hidden from his view. As he didn’t take it, she arched a brow at him.

  “You eat it. I cannot eat them alone.” She forced it in his hand and it was only then that he noticed he’d held it out to her. The burger was warm against his palm, and it smelled heavenly. Still he considered denying it. The words were on the tip of his tongue, when his stomach growled. The smirk on Tessa’s lips told him she’d heard it, too.

  “Fine,” he agreed and unwrapped it. Extra bacon and cheese… Jesus, that woman knew exactly what to bring so he wouldn’t be able to resist.

  She was already munching away on her burger, staring out of the window, lost in thoughts.

  Jazz couldn’t believe it. If she was with him, just like this, not touching, not anything, he wasn’t exactly happy, right? After all, he wanted to pull her close, but since he denied himself that, he didn’t have to feel guilty, did he?

  Of course not. Just sitting here with her like that is almost punishment, his subconscious provided readily and he nodded to himself.

  “Tank said you live here now,” he began after his first bite, almost groaning at how good it tasted, and how awesome it felt as it hit his empty stomach. He hadn’t touched any of the hospital food in at least two days, hoping they’d just give up on him and release him.

  “If you’d take your pills and stay in bed you’d be out already,” Tessa gave back and he blinked, finding her eyes on him. “You just said that out loud,” she added and he blushed. It was something he’d picked up just recently, speaking when he was sure it happened only in his head.

  “I just wanna be out. I bet they can use the bed for people who deserve it more,” he mumbled, lowering his eyes to not see her expression. It didn’t hold long because Tessa wrapped an ice-cold hand around his ankle, shaking it lightly.

  He wore sweatpants again, but was barefoot. And why wear shoes when the doctors didn’t want you to walk?

>   “You deserve this bed, Jesse, and I don’t give a damn what you think. However, I do agree with you that this bed should be freed, which means all you have to do is letting your ribs heal and make sure your organs won’t rupture again. You can do that, right? I bet you’ll be out by the end of the week then,” she stated, sounding pleasant as if they talked about the weather and nothing else.

  “You think?” Why in the world did he sound so hopeful? He knew he wouldn’t be able to return to the base and therefore work any time soon.

  “Fries?”

  He stared at her as she held out the little bag with the golden deliciousness, and he’d taken a handful before having consciously decided for it. “This is the strangest thing ever,” he muttered, watching her closer now. He worried about her cold hands and noticed her nails were turning blue. She had shadows under her eyes he’d not seen at first because he had tried to not watch her. Now though he couldn’t stop. She looked exhausted and was trembling in her light shirt and jeans.

  Putting the burger aside, he got up and walked over to his closet, pulling out one of the few hoodies he’d brought back. She’s probably find desert sand in them, but he didn’t care.

  Plus, the thought of putting her in his clothes again filled him with a weird primal satisfaction. Although she wasn’t his any longer—couldn’t be—at least others would think she was.

  “I’m not cold,” she stated before he’d even said something, so he grabbed the burger from her, set it aside, and pulled her to her feet. He pressed the hoodie over her head until it was resting on her shoulders.

  “Arms,” he prompted.

  “I’m not cold,” she protested while forcing one hand through the first sleeve. “Two minutes. I just need two minutes to warm up and you get it back,” she then added and he closed his eyes, framing her face to briefly press his lips against her forehead.

  “That was exactly what you told me at the airport when we first met,” he whispered, not able to stop himself. It was as if his brain and his mouth weren’t connected, but his heart butting in instead.

  “You remember?” she asked, sounding surprised and he realized how close he stood, so he forced himself to go and sit on the bed again.

  She did the same, and they finished their meal in silence. Jazz kept checking her hands, only feeling good once some color returned to her skin.

  This was the hardest thing Tessa had ever done: sitting there, pretending they were just friends. At least he was eating.

  Ryan had met her at the entrance, telling her about Jazz’s food refusal and she’d turned around, grabbing burgers from the joint just a few yards down the road.

  “Yes, I live here now,” she picked up the topic he’d started what felt like a million years ago.

  That was exactly what you told me at the airport when we first met…

  The words echoed in her head as if nothing else was there, and it made it hard for her to concentrate, to act as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He remembered her exact words, just like she did. That first day was burned into her memory, along with most of what had followed.

  “How come?”

  Because I love you and it was the best time of my life?, she answered silently, knowing he hadn’t referred to her thoughts, but their talk.

  “US guys bought my show. Tagged For Life is now US property, and frankly, since it’s my show, they bought me, too.” They’d paid a fortune and hired a nanny—who was currently downstairs, taking care of her son while she tried to get his father to eat.

  And then there suddenly was this huge pink elephant in the room. She knew Jazz thought about the show he’d called into, just like she did, but not wanting to ask what had happened between then and this moment, she decided to forge on. “They wanted the concept and me, and didn’t want anyone else to do the show. We got a radio award for it. Newcomer stuff.” She didn’t know the right name because during that moment, which had promised to be the biggest of her career, she’d been rushed to the hospital after stumbling and falling, being highly pregnant.

  Stupid.

  He was now openly watching her, his burger gone and his hands empty of the fries. “Already?”

  She shrugged, smirking. Those had been her exact thoughts once someone had told her that she was nominated and going there. “Yes. It was incredible, like a dream come true. And then I ended up here, and currently live with Hils. You remember her, right?”

  For the first time since they’d seen each other again he smiled. It lit up his face and even reached his eyes.

  “Of course. She wanted to bust Tank’s balls,” he grinned and she nodded wistfully.

  “Still wants to, most of the time. Honestly, I don’t think either of them is very happy they now see each other so constantly,” she sighed. His smile was gone again and his beautiful blue eyes hidden from her view behind lowered lashes.

  “Is he around a lot then?”

  She nodded because Tank was at Hilary’s a lot. Not that she’d seen him much between work and the hospital. Tessa never had bothered to ask why, and didn’t really care. What he did was take Hilary’s attention off her, and it was what Tessa needed.

  Hils had turned into a mother hen and she couldn’t take it for long.

  “No,” Jazz finally stated into the silence that had followed his question and her eyes snapped up.

  “’No’ what?” she asked, searching her mind for something she might have missed in their conversation.

  “No, you haven’t gained weight and you certainly didn’t get fat. You gained curves, and perfect ones at that,” he added ever so quietly and she swallowed, having a hard time to keep her emotions in check.

  She got off the bed and put her shoes back on before reaching for the hoodie.

  A warm hand engulfed hers, stopping the movement. “Keep it,” Jazz told her and she swallowed.

  “Exactly what you said at the airport,” she whispered and then, out of impulse and against everything in her that hated cheaters like hell, she went onto her tiptoes and kissed him deeply.

  “Welcome back to the US,” she rushed out and then left the room, her heart racing in her chest.

  He tasted like she remembered, a lot of him and faintly of fast food, just like the last time.

  The last time…

  She couldn’t ever do this again because no matter what, she never wanted to be the other woman and despite how much she hated Betty just for being Jazz’s wife, she didn’t want to hurt her. After all, they didn’t even know each other.

  They just loved the same man.

  She found Hilary with Johnny in her arms, walking up and down.

  Her friend arched a brow and Tessa wished she’d just thrown the damn hoodie onto Jazz’s bed instead of taking it, but… it had been close to impossible. Alone the thought of taking it off had made her want to weep. Clothes were seemingly all she had left of him. But then it meant he cared because he’d noticed she’d been freezing.

  “Don’t say anything,” she pleaded and Hils shifted the boy in her arms.

  “Wasn’t going to,” she promised and though Tessa knew it was a lie, she decided to let it slip. “We’re going home now though, you’re feeding Johnny after feeding his dad and—”

  “Shit, I forgot the trash in his room,” Tessa cursed, wanting to turn back, but Hilary stopped her.

  “Let a nurse do it, Tessa. You need a break. We’re leaving, and after you fed him, you nap. You look like shit, and by the clothes you’re wearing now I’d say you were freezing again. This is taking over, and…”

  Tessa tuned her out while reaching for her son and cuddling the infant close. This was exactly what she needed now: Someone who allowed her to love him unconditionally.

  If only his father would be as compliant, she’d probably be the happiest woman on earth.

  The sand was hot where it touched his skin, but Jazz had no other choice than to roll in it, hoping to get away from the gunshots, which already had taken two of his comrades. Not far away he
spotted Betty. She was struggling and he cursed, then pushed to his feet, running over to her while bullets zipped past him, being more near-hits than he wished to think about.

  Jesus, he was terrified and injured. He could feel the blood seeping from a wound on his side.

  “Bets,” he called and her head snapped up, her eyes pleading with him to just do something. The problem was he couldn’t. They were caught unless more of their base camp would come soon, and he honestly didn’t know if anyone had time to radio in the troubles before they’d been attacked.

  “Jazz, save yourself, I think they got me in my leg,” she ordered. He glanced down, pulling her into his side, and saw the hole in her pants, already red-ringed with her blood. They had to cover it as soon as possible to keep it from getting infected.

  Holding his gun one-handedly, he forced Betty to walk, no matter how much she was limping. A limb they could heal, death though couldn’t be rectified.

  God, before coming there he’d never thought war would be so loud, and then, at the same time, so quiet. Like now. Everything was muffled, the panic in his body making the blood rush through his veins as if it was eager to leave his body through the open wounds he now sported.

  He turned as someone screamed, and winced as two more comrades fell, being expertly shot between neck and shoulder. They wore so much protective gear, and the fuckers aimed for this unprotected spot…

  He was angry. At them, at the world, but mostly at himself. It was his fault the Americans were falling like flies.

  “Betty, run,” he ordered, ready to turn around and find the rest of his brothers-in-arms. He needed to rescue some after what he’d done to them.

  “No, Jazz! Stay here! You’ll get shot!” Betty’s voice rang out, panic lacing every word.

  “It doesn’t matter if I die,” he gritted out, knowing she’d heard that.

  “Yes! Yes, it does!” Her voice suddenly sounded different: further away, gentler, and raw with pain.

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s all my fault.” The next shot grazed his side, making his thigh burn with agony.