Beloved (The Belonging Series)

by Corinne Michaels

  I start putting the pieces together. Aaron is his buddy that works for him. He was also on the mission in Afghanistan, the one where they lost friends. He was going to maybe handle something overseas? My hand covers my mouth as I start to draw conclusions.

  His hands fist into his hair as he leans forward with his head against the wall. I pray this isn’t what I think it is. He can’t lose another friend.

  Please, God, don’t do this to him.

  “I can’t—” he says but stops as a tear falls from his eye. “No! I’ll call her. Get the fucking plans in motion. We leave tonight! I don’t give a shit what you have to do. Wake everyone—we’re wheels up in three hours.” His phone tumbles to the floor as he stands there with a vacant look.

  Jackson’s chest is heaving with exaggerated breaths. Hesitantly, I take a step toward him.

  “Jackson, what happened?” I ask quietly. He turns, eyes glistening with tears, but he doesn’t respond.

  I watch as he crumples to the floor. Every part of his body is quivering. I rush over, wrapping my arms around him as he sobs. He’s breaking. My chest is cracking open watching the man I love fall apart. Tears fall with every strangled, broken sound that Jackson releases. All I can do is hold him close while he unloads his grief.

  “Talk to me. What happened?” I croon softly, not releasing my hold. “Hey.” I lift his face, trying to get him to look at me.

  He shifts, pulling away from my embrace. I feel the loss everywhere and see the change as soon as he stands. He’s shutting down. Two steps forward, one step back. The mask of indifference has secured itself.

  With eyes closed, he takes two deep breaths before speaking. “What happened?” Jackson asks sarcastically. He pushes the air from his lungs in frustration. “I’ll tell you what happened—I did it again!”

  “Did what again?” I ask quietly.

  He throws his hands in the air and begins to pace the room. “I fucking knew it.”

  I start to approach him, trying to keep my tone calm. “I don’t understand. What did you know?”

  Jackson stops moving. His eyes widen as if he forgot I was here. The harshness in his voice slices through me. “I’m no good for you.”

  “Why would you say that?” His statement stuns me, especially since he just said he’d fight for me. What the hell happened on the phone to make him think this?

  “Don’t you get it? Everyone I love dies!” Jackson approaches but stops. “I can’t let you be the next one. I’ll die before I let that happen.”

  I’m lost. “Jackson, talk to me.” I place my hand on his arm, but he shoves it away. The rejection burns through my veins. “Don’t push me away. I’m trying to understand,” I urge him.

  “I’m not pushing you away. I’m saving you!” he yells and walks over to grab his phone. “I won’t let it happen to you too!”

  “Let what happen? You’re not making any sense!” I say to him as he heads toward the door. “Stop! Talk to me!” I beg him. He made me promise not to run but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

  It’s like we’ve gone back to three days ago, only now I’m on the other side. He’s breaking and I can’t stop it. Desperate to get him to listen, I run in front of him, placing myself between him and the door and hoping it will stop him. His eyes are unfocused and void as the storm rages within him. He’s going to break my heart right here. The irony is not lost on me—I gave it to him only to have it shattered. My stomach churns as I see the truth of that reflected in his eyes. Whether I’m standing here or not, he’s walking out this door. I’ve already lost him.

  His face is ashen as he chokes out the words. He’s speaking but not to me. “How many more tattoos do I have to get? Huh? How many ways do I have to mark my mistakes?” Jackson looks at me, desperation flashing across his face. “I’m protecting you, Catherine. I won’t let you love me.”

  A tear cascades as the words fall out. “Too late.”

  His eyes snap up at my admission and his nostrils flare. He quickly pushes forward. “Don’t! Don’t say that!” The muscles in his neck are pulsing with rage and frustration.

  “I will say it because it’s true. What did you think was going to happen? I knew I was falling for you. Then you told me … you told me I was it for you! Don’t walk away. Don’t give up on us.”

  Leaning close to my face, his warm breath washes over my cheek while my tears fall freely. Ever so slowly, his hand lifts. He gently removes a droplet of pain from my cheek only to have more follow in its path. His lips tenderly find purchase on my temple. “I’m not giving up. I’m giving you a chance.”

  I refuse to move from the door. If he leaves, I’ll never get him back. I can’t lose him. My pulse is racing, but I stand strong. I have to do something to make him see me.

  “Jackson, I love you! Give us a chance,” I beg him, praying he’ll listen to me.

  His arms wrap around me, dispelling my fears and the breath I was holding. With my eyes closed, I take this moment, finding the tiniest bit of relief in it. He didn’t leave. I told him I loved him and he’s here, enveloping me in his warmth. I could stay in his arms forever. I feel his lips press against my forehead. When I look up into his eyes, hoping to see him recovered, the color drains from my face. There’s no love or recovery there, just determination. It rolls off him like thunder.

  “No …” The strangled sound of my voice doesn’t register.

  Jackson’s hold disappears along with my hope. With each step he takes, the floor falls a little further down, and my heart follows. He doesn’t stop or look back.

  No.

  His hand touches the handle and my breath hitches.

  Please don’t do this.

  I want to tell him, but the words won’t come out!

  Dammit, Jackson, stop!

  “Jackson.” I say his name like a prayer.

  He stops but doesn’t turn as his hands clench the door jam. “You said I shouldn’t run.” The pain lances through me, fueling my anger to flames. “You lied to me! You’re doing what you promised you wouldn’t—leave.” Still he says nothing, so I step toward him. “Fine. Be a coward! Go! Walk away just like they all do.”

  His hands drop but he doesn’t turn. Shoulders slumped, defeated, broken—he’s not the man I know. Jackson is strong, a fighter, loyal, and I’m desperate to get him back.

  “Coward? I’m fucking saving you. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you.”

  “I can’t do this again, Jackson. Please don’t walk out that door after I’ve told you how I feel.”

  I watch his head shake from side to side and everything inside me rattles. Jackson remains in the door with his back to me, his voice quiet and strained. “I can’t lose you like that. I’d rather walk away.”

  Anger that was simmering beneath the hurt is starting to boil. How dare he do this? He comes here, fucks me, tells me not to run, and then he’s going to do exactly that? I’m pissed. I’m talking volcano erupting, fire burning, hulk smashing kind of pissed the fuck off.

  “You’re going to listen to me, goddamnit. Four days ago, when we went into that lawyer’s office, I was falling apart. Everything in my life felt out of control. It was you who held me together. I drew on your strength to get through that fucking day from hell.” I close my eyes, remembering what came after that. “But after everything else, I was terrified. You could hurt me so much. I was falling in love with you weeks ago, but that day I saw it all vanish. I ran because I was so afraid you’d let me go. I thought if I pushed you away before you got rid of me, it would be better. But it wasn’t!”

  Jackson turns and looks at me, the battle still raging inside him. “I’m not running, Catherine. Aaron is dead. I’m going to collect his fucking body and deliver it to his pregnant wife. Guess whose fault it is again? I give up trying to fight a war I’ll never win.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  He goes stone-cold, every muscle rigid and tense. The blue-green eyes I love are black and glossy. “Try telling N
atalie that. I leave tonight for Afghanistan to get his body and bring it home. I’m done arguing with you. I’m just … done.”

  If I don’t get this out now, I’ll find a reason to hold back. I’m trembling from adrenaline as well as the fear of him walking out this door.

  “I’m ready to fight for you. For so long I thought it wasn’t my choice if things worked or not with any man. But with you—it’s different. You told me I was it for you. Well, same here. I love you.” I look into his eyes, completely vulnerable. No walls, nothing to hide my emotions. I’m giving him the truth with everything I am. “So you choose, Jackson. You tell me now if you want me to walk away. You walked through my door today. It’s up to you to keep it open. I’m not talking about going to do what you have to do. Please, don’t close the door on us.”

  The silence surrounds us, giving me the answer I was dreading. I drop my head while I struggle to keep the tears in check. When I feel his hand on my chin, my heart sputters. Once I look up, I’ll have to face the truth. My gaze drifts as my chin glides toward his eyes. His face gives nothing away. My emotions are like a dam about to break.

  “Say something, dammit!” I yell with tears in my eyes.

  Jackson’s hand drops from my face, leaving me bereft. “I’ve said it all already. You’re not listening.”

  “That’s your answer?” I ask, defeated.

  He looks up, shaking his head, then exhales. “Everyone I love or care about dies. I’m protecting you.”

  “No. You’re protecting yourself. People die, Jackson. It’s tragic, but it happens.”

  His fingers sweep the hair off my face, lingering in my hair. “You know that night we met in the restaurant? It was so intense. I’d never felt so connected to someone so quickly. You walked away. Then, by some miracle …” Jackson’s hands cup my face. He takes a moment with his eyes closed. “You found your way back. I won’t allow anything to hurt you. Including me.” Releasing a heavy sigh, he drops his hands.

  “The only thing hurting me is you leaving.”

  “I don’t have a choice.” He grips the back of his neck and looks at the ceiling.

  There has to be a way. If I can keep him talking, maybe he won’t go. “Of course you have a choice! Please. I’m begging you. Stay tonight, fly out tomorrow—please stay with me. We can figure this out. You’re too upset to drive or be alone. I want to be here for you, but you’re pushing me away.”

  Jackson stares at the window, unwilling to look at me. “The plane leaves tonight.”

  If he has to leave because he needs to deal with whatever is going on, fine. But he’s leaving and planning to end things. If he walks out the door, I fear it’s truly the end.

  “I won’t give up on us. I know you’re hurting and I understand you have to handle this situation, but you can lean on me. Let me carry some of your burden. Talk to me, Jackson. Let me in.”

  Our eyes meet for a moment before his lips crush against mine. I’d give everything up right now if he’d keep me in his embrace. His tongue demands entrance and my lips part, allowing him access. Every organ clenches as he pours himself into the kiss. I give him everything right back. All the love in my heart, my body, I offer him at this moment.

  Needing an answer, I break the kiss. My heart is pounding so loud I’d swear he could hear it. I take a deep breath. “Don’t kiss me if you’re going to break my heart.”

  He looks at me with a mix of fear and regret. Then he closes his eyes and whispers, “Good-bye, Catherine.” Jackson walks out the door without a backward glance.

  I stand there, waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Surely that didn’t happen. I’m asleep—that has to be it. I’m at my kitchen table with the papers strewn everywhere because that did not happen. Only it did. I look around my apartment, at the hole in the wall where Jackson punched it in anger. The door he walked through is still open, waiting for him to walk back through. I stare at the space he walked away from. It seems to be growing smaller, shrinking into itself as time does the same. He doesn’t return. The thunder booms outside, snapping me from my haze. The tempest within becomes a hurricane.

  He’s gone.

  He walked out on me after he promised he wouldn’t. My heart splinters like glass on the ground—jagged and raw and ready to cut with all its sharp edges. I knew this was going to happen eventually—I’d hoped not to fall, but I guess it’s too late for that now. I’ve crested the mountain only to fall down the other side, and no one is going to catch me.

  ~Seven days later-Afghanistan~

  “Fuck. I didn’t miss this shithole!” I glance over at Mark, who’s looking out at the village on the left, checking for anything out of the norm.

  “Need to clean the sand out of your vag, Muff? Does Kitty know you’re this big of a pussy?” Mark taunts like the douchebag he is.

  I scoff at his sorry attempt at a jab. “Kiss my ass. Try not to sparkle too much while we’re here. You might draw some hijab attention.” I give him the finger and he starts laughing. “Also, don’t talk about Catherine.”

  “Touchy. Have you told her yet?”

  “No,” I say with no room for further discussion. He’s already told me I need to tell her about my past, but I wasn’t going to drop that shit on her lap and rush off to deal with the mess here.

  Mark and I didn’t speak for the first leg of the trip, both of us dealing with the loss of yet another member of our team. This shit is fucking with both of us. We started with six—and then there were two. When you’re active duty, you know your time is numbered. Once you’re out, though, that’s not how you think anymore.

  I look to the left, take a deep breath, and regret doing that immediately. The Humvee smells like shit, but we’ve been traveling for five long ass days, so we aren’t any better. We flew into Spain and waited there for two days. Rota reminded me of the trouble we got in during the last deployment here. It was a fucking joke. We drank, ate, drank some more, and worked out. Made bank and went home.

  Then we flew into Dubai for another two days. At least in Dubai there’s a ton of shit to do. Of course, it was only supposed to be a five-hour layover, but when you’re flying on Navy equipment, you expect the unexpected. Which is a nice way of saying prepare for that shit to break.

  Since we’ve hit the sandbox, it’s been nothing but constant bullshit. Our convoy never met us at the base we flew into. I had to call a bunch of old friends to get someone to come get us, then take us to Camp Victory so we could claim Aaron’s body. Normally that’s not how it works, but I don’t give a fuck. He’s our brother and we weren’t leaving him to fly alone. Mark had to pull a few strings to get it done, but he felt the same way. We owed Natalie that much.

  Now we’re heading to the IED site. Another favor I cashed in. Whatever. At this rate, I just want to get some damn answers on how they fucked this up.

  “By the way, asshat, this doesn’t count as my vacation,” Mark lets me know through the mics on our helmets.

  I adjust my Kevlar so I can breathe. This shit didn’t get any lighter. We’re fully loaded and tacked out. “You said you wanted the sun and the sand. I delivered.”

  “Funny.” He laughs.

  We approach the site and my guard instantly goes up. I slip right back into battle mode.

  I get out first.

  “Hey, Muff, watch your six,” Mark says seriously. We’ve done enough missions together to know when the tone changes, it means something’s not right. “I have a bad feeling about the mountains up on the left,” Mark says, pointing to the rocky terrain.

  “Yeah, I have a bad feeling about this whole fucking place. Cover me.”

  I hear the door close behind me. The debris is cleared for the most part. Considering we’re a week behind, a lot of the intel I could’ve gotten is pretty much gone, but you never know. I’ve seen insurgents sing like canaries for a soda. Everyone has a price and today, I’m the banker.

  I scan the area. So far there’s a few kids playing soccer and a woman standing b
y the fence, talking to another child. Ahead of me I see what looks like some pieces of the explosion. I lean down right as a ball comes flying in front of my face. The kids are laughing at the almost collision. I grab the ball and smile—I’ve just found my bargaining chip.

  I crouch low to the ground and sling my gun onto my back. Probably not the smartest move, but I need the kids to come close. Plus, Mark’s behind me along with the other two guys we grabbed when we rolled out. “Want the ball?” I ask, holding it out.

  The two kids nod and walk over.

  This might be too easy.

  I hold the ball out and the little girl gives me a huge smile. She’s cute as hell. I place the ball between us and pull it back. She giggles and reaches out. We do this four times before I hand it over. “Do you speak English?”

  We didn’t bring a translator with us, so I’m on my own. We may have to draw pictures in the dirt.

  She nods but doesn’t speak.

  “I’m Ja—Muff. What’s your name?” I almost told her my real name like a fucking idiot. It’s bad enough we’re in uniforms with our names on them. I get to walk around bumfuck Afghanistan with my last name on me. Perfect.

  She stares at me and finally responds, “Cat.”

  My eyes go wide. What the fuck? Cat? I don’t know if it’s her name or if it’s the only English word she knows.

  I shake my head and go back to the little girl. “Your name is Cat?”

  She holds her ball and nods her head yes.

  I smile and think about Catherine, going back to the day I left. The way she looked. How I was so blind with rage I couldn’t even talk to her. She has no clue what it was like for me to walk away from her. It was bad enough when she pushed me away, but to know it’s me this time—it’s fucking killing me. She captivates me, makes me want to try again, to feel things I swore I’d never allow myself to feel. Those brown eyes get me every time. It’s only been a week, but I miss her. I wish I could hear her voice and beg her to take me back. Something’s kept me from calling her, though. It’s better this way. I don’t care if someone thinks it makes me a pussy. I’m far from it.