by Sam Destiny
Table of Contents
Forever Girl
Also by Sam Destiny
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Forever Girl
Sam Destiny
Contents
Forever Girl
Also by Sam Destiny
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
FOREVER GIRL
(Tagged Soldiers Book 2)
First published in Germany in 2017
First Edition, 2017
Copyright © 2017 by Sam Destiny
Cover Design by Melissa Gill of MGBookcovers
Interior Design By Sloan Johnson of Sloan’s Design Shop & Aimie Jennison
Editing by Ewelina Rutnya
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the expressed written permission of the author.
Also by Sam Destiny
Romances
Tagged For Life (Tagged Soldiers Book 1)
AJ’s Salvation
Call Me Michigan
Morningstar Series
Set In Flames
Set In Sparks
Set In Burns
Set To Start (Morningstar Novella)
AngelBond Trilogy
Raise The Fallen
Raise The Hopeless
Raise The Damned (Coming 2018)
www.samdestiny.com
Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside of us and sometimes they win. – Stephen King
May you have the friends it needs and the courage it takes to fight your ghosts each and every day anew.
“TR on air for you! Jesus, it’s been a few weeks, and I’m sorry, but I’m back! Can you believe it? I can’t even start to imagine all the love stories and heartache I missed. Wanna tell me about yours? Make a wish and send a song to someone out there in this great, wide world? Call me now. You know the number, and if not, find it on the website. Until then, one of my current favorites, a country hit made by P!nk and Kenny Chesney, ‘Setting The World On Fire.’ Enjoy!”
Tessa lifted the headphones from her head and glanced over her shoulder. She sat in this studio for the first time, did her show from an entirely different time zone, and she still could hardly believe it. The walls, soundproofed and painted in some weird, ugly color, were decorated with letters from her fans, or listeners… whatever you wanted to call them. She’d needed a reminder that people had missed her during the four weeks she had been… incapacitated. Pushing that thought away, Tessa spotted a small blinking icon on the screen and lifted her eyes to the glass separating her studio from the other side, where people managed the calls and E-mails, already preselecting. The situation was new to her, too, and it made her feel weird all over.Her radio show,Tagged For Life, had been a hit. Sadly, she no longer could handle all the calls by herself.
Grinning as she spotted a familiar brunette with shining blue eyes, she refocused and lifted the headphones again. The song was ending so she cleared her throat before going live again.
“I’m back, and boy, what a song. So, the first caller of the night is on the line, and he calls himself…” She hesitated as she read the name, not sure if she’d mixed up a call with an E-mail, but no, the phone symbol was still blinking. “Desert Heart. Hey there.”
Silence met her, and a weird static as if the caller was a continent away.
“Tess.”
One word and her heart flipped in her chest, making butterflies erupt in her stomach until she felt like throwing up. Lifting her hand to the dog tags hanging over the mic, she drew a deep breath. “Hey there. I assume you call yourself Desert Heart because you’re a soldier?” She knew it was the truth, but if she talked to him the way she wanted to, the listeners would’ve wanted the info she had. And he was calling anonymously.
“Yes.” His voice was rough and yet went through her like a hot knife through butter. “I wanna tell you a love story, Miss TR.” Though her name wasn’t a secret, Tessa preferred it wasn’t used on air repeatedly, and he seemed to remember that after his first slip. Or maybe that had been intentional so she knew whom she was speaking to.
“Tell me, then,” she whispered, only to realize she couldn’t speak any quieter or no one would be able to follow any longer.
“I never thought a girl could open my eyes to love and how much I needed it in my life, but it’s true. It’s out there, and I’m calling so people know that sometimes oceans and mountains are between you and what belongs to you. That’s how love is. You belong to her or him, and she—or he—belongs to you. Who makes your heart race doesn’t matter. Only know that if they do, you need to keep them. Hold them close and remind them every day they are yours.” He paused, and Tessa heard him take a deep breath, almost as if steeling himself for his next words. “However, as I said, sometimes oceans are between you, and that means sometimes you cannot keep what is yours. Sometimes you need to let go for something more important, something not only meaningful for your very own life but in the grander scheme of things. Sometimes you have to leave your girl to go and save your brothers-in-arms, even if you don’t know if you’ll see her again. That’s what happened to me, you see. I had her for less than three weeks when she was on holiday. Three weeks, you ask? Yes. Three weeks. But I didn’t need that long to know she was my everything. I think it took less than one, actually. So, where am I going with this? Easy. Love as hard as you can because it doesn’t matter if it’s three days, three years, or three decades. It will change you. And you should let it. Even if you don’t know if he or she’ll forget you or not. No matter if you’ll see her or him again. Because… that person will always be in your heart. So, with my girl, all I can say is… I just…”
Her breath caught on the secret code they had shared ever since an almost-slip of the three special words.
His voice was shaking, but luckily the song Tessa was supposed to play already flashed on her screen so she knew to put it on, ready to play the moment he’d announced his choice. “My song choice is‘(Everything I do) I Do It For You’ by Bryan Adams, and I dedicate it to you, TR.”
“And here is your song, Desert Heart, and I’m with you… I just,” she whispered, giving the sentiment back, starting the song, and turning the microphone off before it caught her sob. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she
tried to get her emotions under control. Nine months had passed since she’d watched him drive off on a military bus, and more than three since she’d gotten a letter from him.
This though, this was much better, and whatever would come, she’d go through nine more just because she knew he still felt the same way she did.
Jazz hadn’t forgotten her.
Tessa Rowan ran through the hallways of the Presidio Army Health Clinic, Monterey, not seeing anyone or anything. She knew where she was supposed to go. Tank had told her, and he’d promised he’d wait for her.
“Tessa, slow down, please,” Hilary called after her, and although she was thankful her American friend had followed her, she didn’t care one bit.
Jazz has been returned to the US, and they are worried.
Tank had told her nothing more on the phone, and it was all she needed to hear, besides the address he’d given her.
When she reached the right ward, she stopped at the nurse’s station. “Corporal Jesse Connor. I need to see him. Now.”
The nurse lifted a light brow, gray eyes focusing from behind gold-rimmed glasses. “And you’re family, I assume?” Her voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t exactly warm either.
“I’m not.” Her heart dropped.
“Fiancée then? Wife?” Even before the nurse shook her head at her non-answer, Tessa stepped back. No, she wasn’t even Jazz’s girlfriend. Or was she?
“Tessa Rowan?” a deep, male voice asked from behind her, and Tessa watched as the nurse rose from her chair, pushing at her messy dirty-blonde bun and tugging on her clothes.
“Yes, I’m Tessa Rowan,” she replied, lifting her eyes from the nurse to the doctor who had asked for her. He was as tall as Jazz, but his shoulders weren’t as wide. She shook her head as she realized she compared every guy she met to the one she’d given her heart to.
“Good to see you. For two nights, the corporal has woken up screaming your name, but once awake, he refuses to speak. I can’t tell you anything about what happened, partly because of my oath and partly because we don’t know anything. And, just so you know, I’m Dr.Ryan Spencer. Sorry, I don’t usually deal with those close to the patient.” He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, and Tessa gave him the smallest of smiles.
“Don’t worry. But since he asked for me, can I go see him?”
God, she needed to tell him so much, needed to say so many things they hadn’t ever talked about, and yet she wasn’t sure she could manage to bring out just one word.
“Yes, come on.” She didn’t bother to turn back to the nurse. No matter that the woman was merely following orders, nothing was worse than not being allowed to see your loved one because papers didn’t yet announce you belonged together.
Tessa followed the doctor, suddenly hating white color of the walls and the ceiling because it represented the hospital and therefore meant Jazz was hurt.
She didn’t notice the doors they passed. In fact, if someone had asked her how far they had walked, she’d have said “no further than the end of the world” because that was what it felt like to her. Eventually the doctor paused in front of a door: white, unmarked like all the others, a window next to it with blinds drawn from the inside.
“I have to be honest here, Miss Rowan, he hasn’t asked for you during the day, or rather when he’s awake. I don’t know what you are to him, but don’t expect anything, okay?”
She had stopped expecting anything until Jazz had called into her show and said all he had just four weeks ago. He, in his own way, told her he still loved her, and her heart was ready to hold onto that.
“I’m a friend,” she finally stated as she realized the doctor was waiting for a comment.
“A good friend if you come to the hospital at seven thirty in the morning,” he pointed out, and she nodded.
“He’s a soldier who has fought for peace, so if he needs someone by his side, and I am that person, then it’s the least I can do.” She forced a smile, her heart racing in her chest, and suddenly the doctor’s hand fell away from the door handle where it had been from the moment they’d arrived.
“Do you have any idea what PTSD can do to a person? Post-traumatic—”
“Stress disorder, I know. And I know they sometimes have trouble deciding between what’s real and what’s not, and they might not be able to interact the way they did before getting into the situation causing their PTSD. I know they might have night terrors, and they don’t even have to sleep to get the flashbacks. They can—”
The doctor laughed, his dark eyes shining with amusement. “You know the territory, I understand. Just be prepared he might not want to see you, no matter what your relationship was before.”
She sighed in exasperation. “For now I need to see that he is walking, talking, and breathing because for ten months, I wasn’t sure that was the case. Then he called and even after that, I was sure I dreamed it. I just need to see him, and if he’s calling out for me when he’s not conscious, I think some part of him wants to see me, too. So can I please go in now?”
The doctor nodded, just a tiny movement of his head, but it was all Tessa needed.
She steeled herself and then went to the door, pausing only the shortest moment before she pushed the handle down, wondering what in the world she’d find on the other side.
Corporal Jesse “Jazz” Connor combed his fingers through his hair. The dark strands had grown out again, but then that was what happened to you if you were forced to stay in bed while severely injured. In fact, he was so badly bruised and broken they had worried about flying him out and kept him in camp instead until he’d been sure he could just get back into the field. They hadn’t allowed that, but instead flew him back home.
Now he was bound to another bed for at least three more weeks. They’d already told him as much.
Pulling on his hair, even though his ribs and throat were hurting enough to remind him he was still alive, he stood from the bed. He was supposed to rest, because his formerly torn lung might rapture again, but he didn’t care. He should be wearing one of those flimsy hospital nightgowns, too, but he’d refused. Instead he wore black sweatpants and a white shirt. It wasn’t one of his, and the fit was a little too snug, but he didn’t care. He was in a damn hospital after all.
The door opened behind him, and he braced his hands against the window frame, staring outside, not caring who had come in. That was, until there was absolute silence behind him. No demands, no scolding, nothing. It made him curious, and he shifted until the person in the door reflected in the window glass and all the air rushed from his lungs. He grabbed his ribs, squeezing tight so the pain would pull him back from the dream or flashback or whatever it was.
Tessa couldn’t possibly be standing in his hospital room.
“Jazz.” Her voice was broken, the word barely more than a whisper, but he heard it as if she’d screamed it.
He spun around and his body cried out in agony, but nothing stopped him from crossing the room and drawing her into his arms; even picking her up to feel her closer. She was real. He felt her curves against his body, molding into him, fitting him almost as perfectly as he remembered. Even her scent was still the same, and God, she was there, right by his side.
“Tessa,” he gasped, putting her down as the pain seared through him, forcing him to sit. Stumbling back until his legs hit the bed, he dropped onto the mattress, his eyes glued to the blonde woman who stood by the door, her arms wrapped around herself.
“Come here,” he pleaded, reaching out until his ribs protested again. She stepped closer and only stopped when she stood between his knees, being at eye-level with him now. Her chocolate eyes roamed over his face as her fingertips brushed his cheeks and the stubble there. He wasn’t sure if he was sporting a beard yet.
He knew what she touched, every scar where she lingered, without needing to see them. They were tiny, as glass cuts always were, and he had enough on his cheeks to last him a lifetime. The doctor promised they’d be nearly invis
ible under a scruff, but the way Tessa’s eyes lingered told him they showed too clearly.
He wanted to tell her so much; he’d meant to say so much when he’d called in to her show that night, but things had changed since then. Everything had changed, and he couldn’t say those words any longer.
Pushing her back a little, he made sure he moved further away from her on the bed. “Why are you here?” His voice sounded exactly how he wanted it to sound, and he saw her cringe. It tore at him like nothing else could. Nothing but the guilt he was feeling.
“Tank… I… we thought maybe…” She licked her lips, her hands trembling as she brought them up to her hair. “I needed to see you. I mean, I wanted to. I thought… I just…” She shook her head, and although he knew she hadn’t meant the two words the way they used them, his heart thudded angrily in his chest, ready to burst out.
“Well,” he stated, his voice rough. He moved until his back rested against the headboard. Jazz couldn’t look at her any longer. He hadn’t even kissed her. Maybe he should’ve done that the moment he’d held her, when his heart hadn’t yet been one with his mind. One last taste—
He didn’t get to finish the thought as the door flew open and a dark whirlwind came in, propelling itself directly into his arms on the bed, not caring if he was injured.
“Jazz! Jazzy! God, you’re fine, you’re okay!”
Betty. Betty was there. The moment his mind caught up with that fact, he gently pushed her aside, but Tessa was gone.
