by jc santo
Copyright © 2016 JC Santo
Resilient Love (Book 3 in the Navy Love Series)
Cover Design: MGbookcovers (mgbookcovers.wix.com/mgbookcovers)
Editing: Aleesha Davis
Formatting: Angela Shockley (That Formatting Lady – http://thatformattinglady.com/)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
In loving memory of two incredibly important people, one dear to me and the other to a very close friend:
Patrick ‘Pat’ Santo
3/12/1964—12/31/2013
Patricia ‘Pat’ Wyant
7/18/1952—7/7/2013
It’s hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.
-unknown
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Playlist
Jo
Thanksgiving
Looking around the room, I watch as my friends bask in their happiness. I’ve become closer to them than any of my childhood friends and I have never felt excluded from them. Until now. And it’s my fault.
I’m the one who’s chosen to not tell anyone what happened to me last week. Instead, I’ve confided only in Amber Miller and have avoided the rest of the people I consider to be family.
Not that Thanksgiving dinner is the time or the place to discuss any of what’s happened lately.
As if all of my stress and inner turmoil from last week isn’t enough to throw on me, I’ve also found out my mom’s health is steadily declining. I haven’t spoken to anyone about that yet either. I know that I need to, that I should. I feel like it’s eating me alive to keep all of this chaos to myself, but I haven’t felt comfortable enough to divulge all of my personal business with anyone.
I’ve never felt so alone before. I’ve always had my friends if I needed a shoulder, but I can’t help but feel, in this situation, they wouldn’t offer the support I need.
Miller is the only reason I’m here today. I was dead set against coming; there are too many opportunities that my secrets could spill out to any and every one. She’s the only person I’ve discussed any of my issues with; no one else will understand what I’ve gone through emotionally and physically.
I’ve never been one to play the victim, but the depression that has taken over refuses to let go. It feels like my entire personality has been removed.
Seeing Tessa with her round belly has been incredibly difficult today. I’m thankful for everything else going on that has her mind distracted, because typically I’ve been hands on, literally.
Hunter has complained before that the babies will have a special bond with me because I’m constantly talking to T’s belly or rubbing it.
That isn’t the case today though, I haven’t touched her beautiful round stomach at all. I’m too scared my tainted touch will bring harm to those babies, as well.
Ludicrous to think that way? Yes, but I can’t help it. The entire process of losing my baby has fucked with my head. And being in the situation alone, I carry all of the blame and guilt.
Miller has told me multiple times to talk to J.C., that he has a right to know. I’m terrified he’ll look at me with the same disgust I see in the mirror. Or worse, what if he’s relieved the baby died?
Better to not chance it.
Arriving home that night, I don’t know which emotion holds the most space in my heart now; sadness, loneliness, or relief.
Unfortunately, I don’t have long to ponder it because the moment I sit down on the couch with my old crocheted blanket, someone begins pounding on my door.
“JO! Open the door!” J.C.’s voice shouts from outside.
He has to be drunk. Why else would he be here?
I avoided him all day, too scared I’d confess everything.
I lean against the door.
“Go home, J.C.,” I say.
“No. Let me inside.”
With my forehead pressed to the cold wood, I try to piss him off so he’ll leave. I’ve had enough human interaction today and he’s the last person I want to see.
“You drunk? Because if so, you came to the wrong house to get some pussy tonight.”
“Jo! Open the fuckin’ door!”
He bangs against it hard enough that I’m sure he could end up splintering the wood.
My tears fall silently as I stand there praying for him to leave. The pounding stops after a minute, and I breath deep with relief that he’s gone, but then I hear his defeated voice.
“I’m not drunk. I just want to know what’s going on with you, Jo. You know damn good and well you mean more to me than just pussy.”
He’s right, I know he isn’t drunk. The southern drawl in his voice comes out even more than normal after he’s had a few drinks.
“Please, Jo, let me in.”
J.C.
Silence.
Please, dear God, open the door.
Jo isn’t a typical girl. She’s as tough as nails and hard as any man we work with. She’s confident, independent and fucking radiant.
I don’t know what’s going on, but I saw a difference in her today. She wasn’t that typical Jo we all know and love.
For her to shut herself away from all of us, I’m sure something is wrong. That’s why I’m here. Yeah, I could have gone to the bar, or stayed over at Tessa and Hunter’s longer, but I wanted to check on her.
When she slipped out quietly this evening, all eyes went to me, expecting me to know, or perhaps, be the cause of her sadness.
It was Miller who saved me from the barrage of questions.
Questions I don’t know the answers to; questions she refuses to acknowledge.
Truth be told, I’m madly in love with the broken, spitfire of a woman on the other side of the door, but she acts impartial to me.
I’ve seen the way it cripples a relationship if the love isn’t returned.
I stand with my head pressed against the door, praying she’ll open up and let me in. After a few more minutes of silence, I know it isn’t going to happen.
Pulling my head away, I lightly hit the frame as a way of tapping out. My back is halfway turned when I hear the unmistakable sound of a latch unlocking.
The tan door opens and I’m met with a teary eyed Jo.
Stepping inside the doorway, I immediately pull her into my arms.
“Baby, you gotta tell me what’s going on.”
She doesn’t respond, just continues to fall apart with her head buried in my chest.
I maneuver us and push the door shut. While gently caressing her back, I take in the apartment. I’ve been here many times, but have never seen it in this disarray.
The space is a disaster; leftover plates and cups scattered around the coffee table, the old crocheted blanket crumpled into a ball on the couch along with a couple pillows; it looks like she’s been sleeping in here. Or locking herself in this apartment away from the w
orld.
“It’s my mom…and other things,” she cries on a broken sob.
Her mom’s cancer has continuously progressed over the past year. None of us, including Jo, knew exactly how bad the prognosis looked until recently.
The whole subject of her mom has been a touchy topic for Jo; she doesn’t like to discuss it at all. But I can see now, there’s obviously something that’s happened that she needs to get off her chest.
I gently massage her back to calm her tears.
“Hey, why don’t you go to the bathroom and calm down a little, then we can talk?” I say, trying to stop her crying.
“Okay,” she hiccups.
“You wanna jump in the shower? Maybe it’ll help you to relax a little?”
She nods and slowly makes her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I take the opportunity to pick up a little. Halfway through the coffee table, after all of the dishes have been put away, I notice three prescription bottles.
I know this borders on stalking behavior, but I want to know what the hell is going on with Jo, so I chance her getting pissed and check the labels.
All three are prescribed to Joanna Fuentes, all by the Naval Hospital.
One looks like antibiotics. One is ibuprofen; the military’s go to solution for everything. And the third is a pain pill, Tylenol III.
What does she need all of these pills for?
Jo was out of work on Thursday and Friday last week, forty-eight hours SIQ, or Sick in Quarters for two days. I figured it was just some kind of bug, but that doesn’t explain the pain killer.
She steps out of the bathroom and walks towards me at the exact moment I set all of the bottles back down on the couch.
Her bloodshot eyes move from my face to the bottles and back again, fear etched across her features.
Something isn’t right here.
“Jo, what’s going on?”
She looks unsure of herself as her eyes focus on the pill bottles.
“Jo!” She finally looks back at me.
“I didn’t want you to know.”
“Know what? What in the fuck is going on? Are you alright?” My mind is racing and I’m beyond worried now.
“I lost it, J.C. I didn’t think you had to find out.”
I scratch my head in confusion.
“What are you talking about? You lost what? What didn’t you think I needed to know about?”
“The baby!” she yells. “I didn’t want to tell you that I lost our baby!”
“You what?”
“I lost it. My body couldn’t handle it.”
“You were pregnant? And you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Jo?”
She nods her head with a look of shame on her face.
How the hell did I miss all of the signs of her being pregnant?
My head is spinning and I’m pissed. Why the fuck would she think I didn’t need to know she was pregnant?
I walk away from her and begin pacing the length of the living room.
“When?”
“I found out at the beginning of the month and miscarried days later.”
“So you went through all of this alone? You know I would’ve been there for you, Jo. How the hell could you not tell me?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, J.C. Miller tried to convince me to—”
“Miller knew?! How the fuck did you think it was okay to tell her but not me? It was my fucking kid too, Jo!”
I came over with the intention to help Jo, make her feel a little better, but that’s all gone to hell now. I walk over to the door and fling it open so hard that it bangs against the wall.
“Wait, J.C., please don’t leave…” she cries.
I don’t have the patience to listen to her now though. She deserves the sadness she’s dealing with. Now I have to be concerned with myself and accept the fact that I lost a baby I wasn’t even informed of.
“No. Don’t ask me to stay now, Jo. I can’t. I can’t be around you after this.”
With that, I slam the door on mine and Jo’s relationship.
One month later.
“I’ll go, Chief.”
The words fall out of my mouth before my brain has a chance to process all of it.
To my side, I hear a small gasp from the woman who I’ve refused to talk to for the past month.
Luckily, we’re in front of our Chief so she and I both have to check our emotions and leave our personal shit at the door.
Our Chief called a meeting with Jo, Reed, and myself; giving us the opportunity to voluntarily go on the upcoming deployment. Charlie Reed is still working on getting all of his shit straight with Tegan; I want them to work out, so he doesn’t need to leave now. And Jo...well, even though we aren’t speaking anymore, I really don’t need to be around her right now. She’s tried talking to me on multiple occasions, but I shut her down each time. I can’t stand to hear her bullshit excuses from a month ago.
Time away is exactly what I need.
“Okay, thanks Collins. I’ll get your name on the work up paperwork; They’ll give you all the details on your next shift.
“Thank you, Chief.”
We’re quickly dismissed and Jo rushes past Reed and me, while he tries to figure out why I volunteered for this one.
No one knows what happened with Jo and me in the end.
She’s grown more into herself and avoids being around everyone while I spend more time at the bar like I did before our little fling.
I know she’s carrying around the guilt of losing the baby, and my yelling at her for not telling me doesn’t help; but I can’t bring myself to say sorry, not right now anyway. I’m angry still, and she’s the only person to be angry at.
It wasn’t her fault that she lost the baby, and that isn’t why I’m upset with her. I’m mad that she didn’t give me the courtesy of telling me she was pregnant. She went at least a week knowing she was pregnant, saw me every day at work and didn’t ever think to say something.
What would have happened if she hadn’t miscarried? I’d like to believe she would have eventually told me, but I’m not so sure anymore.
Yeah, space is exactly what I need. Time and space from Jo.
Too bad I’ll leave my heart here with her.
J.C.
Three Months Later
This. Fucking. Sucks.
I’m so over being out here. I’ve mentally kicked myself in the ass more times than I can count for my impulsive decision to run away from my problems instead of facing them head on.
We’ve still got at least three more months out here. I’m stuck on this ship doing the same things day in and day out. Mind-numbing tasks that do nothing but give me time to think.
Over the past three months, I haven’t gotten over the anger and hurt that Jo caused by keeping the pregnancy from me; but I’m glad I volunteered for this deployment instead of allowing her or Reed to come.
Reed and I communicate via email on a regular basis. Well, at least when possible for me. This deployment has spent a lot of time in ‘River City’ status; periods of time where all communication is shut down. Nothing in, nothing out. They can last a matter of hours or up to weeks at a time.
He told me that he’s finally gotten his shit together with Tegan; worked through all of the ghosts from his past. Thank the Lord for that.
Regardless of my personal feelings about this deployment, I still believe me going was the best option. It’s already benefited Reed to stay home. I’ve never known that fucker to be as happy as he is.
He and Tegan went back to Michigan where they both finally got their heads outta their asses and admitted that they love each other. They’ve since found an apartment and are in the process of moving in together.
It takes everything in me to not ask about Jo with each email. I want to so bad, but I’m giving her this time to come to me. Right now, until I come home, the ball is in her court. So, I’m st
uck waiting for her to make some kind of move telling me that she still cares about us.
And that hasn’t happened yet.
I’m still waiting.
I can only pray that all those times I rejected her before I left don’t come back to bite me in the ass now that I’m ready to talk with her.
Reed has given limited details about Jo when sharing how everyone else is doing, but nothing beyond that, which I both love and hate. As pissed off as I am at her, I know she had a hard time dealing with the miscarriage. I just hope she’s found someone to talk to about it. As far as Reed says though, she’s avoiding our entire group of friends.
If I know anything about Joanna Fuentes, it’s that she’s stubborn. It’ll be a cold day in hell for her to come to me willingly and admit that she cares about me.
I did have to force him to tell me about her after she came back from her trip to California after Christmas. Unfortunately, I didn’t like what he had to say.
Physically, and I’m only going by the details he’s giving me, she has permanent bags under her eyes and she’s lost weight.
Jo was never a girly-girl, but she always wore just enough makeup to enhance her natural beauty. According to Reed, she comes into work bare-faced everyday now. She keeps to herself and wiggles her way out of any social obligations.
She’s only been around Hunter and Tessa’s twins twice now; both times she didn’t hold them or interact with them at all.
It breaks my heart even more to hear all of this about Jo. The woman is beautiful, inside and out. She shouldn’t hide herself away from the world, and she damn sure shouldn’t blame herself for what’s happened.
I can’t help but feel as though my reaction and anger helped fuel her to believe that she should be blamed for her miscarriage.
Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about it.
I’ve thought of emailing Jo myself, but the fear of her rejection has kept me from hitting the ‘send’ button.
As soon as I get back though, I will make things right. I know I want her to come to me first, which I would prefer, but she’s got this deployment to make her move. Because once I get back, I’m taking charge like I should have from the beginning.
