Finding Purpose (Colorado Veterans Book 1)

by Tiffani Lynn

  Finding Purpose

  Colorado Veterans Book 1

  Tiffani Lynn

  Contents

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  1. Judson

  2. Judson

  3. Judson

  4. Quinn

  5. Judson

  6. Quinn

  7. Quinn

  8. Judson

  9. Quinn

  10. Judson

  11. Quinn

  12. Quinn

  13. Quinn

  14. Quinn

  15. Quinn

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  Finding Purpose

  Copyright by Tiffani Lynn

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  For more information contact Tiffani Lynn at

  www.tiffanilynn.com

  Cover Design by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  Cover Photographer: Kruse Images and Photography

  Cover Models: Blake & Gina Sevani

  Editor: Twin Tweaks Editing

  Dedication

  For retired Master Sergeant Bernard I. Morrin USAF, my father and the proudest veteran I’ve ever known. Thank you for your dedicated service and for teaching me to have pride in our country and respect for those who serve in the armed forces. Having a dad in the military wasn’t always easy but it gave me some great memories and amazing friends. I’m proud of you and will love you always.

  Acknowledgments

  The first bit of gratitude goes out to my amazing husband and three fantastic daughters. Your pride and encouragement have helped me to keep writing and sharing my words with the reading world. Teddy you’ve given me my happily ever after and I love living the dream with you.

  Thank you to the incredibly talented photographer Michael Stokes. Always Loyal is what started my thoughts churning for this story and introduced me to the beauty of B.T. Urruela and Redmond Ramos. These two men were the inspiration for the hero in this story. B.T. and Redmond, thank you for sharing your stories and your scars with us. Your strength, courage and smiles are an inspiration.

  I’d like to express my gratitude to Kelsey Imig Huber, a former member of the Ohio State University Varsity Pistol Team and the muse for my heroine. Although the direction the story took wasn’t what I originally intended, I enjoyed getting to know the woman behind the character’s inspiration. It wasn’t until I sent several emails with a ton of questions that I realized she wasn’t only tough but also cool, patient and kind. The world needs more women like you Kelsey. Thank you.

  John and Marcia Migacz meeting you was such a blessing. Your open and honest conversation gave me helpful insight I couldn’t find anywhere else. I look forward to more laughs and a lasting friendship. I wish you both much success!

  Rachel Javier, thank you so much for sharing your nursing knowledge with me and for all the extra reading you’ve done. You’ve been a huge help to me.

  Special thanks to Mia Sparks for running my street team and for helping me with so many different things. You have such a giving heart and I appreciate you more than you know.

  The support and love from my TLC family is irreplaceable. Much love and gratitude to all of you. As always, what you find is what you find!

  Judy Swinson, Kat Mizera, Katharina LeBoeuf, Lexi Post and Sam JD Hunt, y’all have each helped me in one way or another and I appreciate all of your support, encouragement and assistance.

  Finally, I’ll never tire of thanking my Beta Babes. Alison Dye, April Klusman, Barb Teeter, Barbie Stokes Timpson, Gemma Blomquist, Jackie Ziegler, Judy Swinson, Kat Mizera, Lisa Qualls, Maria Robinette, Rachel Garcia, Rachel Javier and Terri Kuebbeler if I had a million dollars for each of you it still wouldn’t come close to your worth.

  Chapter One

  Judson

  Everything is black. I struggle to open my eyes as the pain barrels through me from head to toe. Burning, aching, stomach turning pain. My hands, my leg and my side hurt so badly I want to hurl. In an instant, memories flood my brain of the explosion and I call out, “Jackson, Barker, you okay?!” No answer. I panic and scream for them but only hear murmured voices to my right. Why can’t I open my eyes? The voices are feminine, not what my guys sound like. Where are Jackson and Barker? As the pain flares through me at an alarming rate my focus on finding the guys fades and I struggle just to open my eyes. I’ve got to get my bearings, I can’t get out of this if I don’t know where the hell I am. No matter how hard I try they simply won’t open. The pain is surreal, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before or thought a body could feel.

  Finally, I pry my eyes open and am stunned at what I see. From the angle I’m at it looks like I’m in the hospital, but the blurry vision makes this appear like a dream. Please let that be the case so I can wake up and be out of this literal burning hell. The clearer my eyes become the more the pain intensifies. Holy fuck! I didn’t think the pain could get worse. Even through SEAL training it never got this bad and that was horrific.

  “Judson, oh my God, Judson. You’re awake. How do you feel? Are you okay? What do you need?” My heart rate picks up, galloping like a runaway horse as Quincy Hannigan steps into my line of sight though fuzzy around the edges. This has to be a dream. I haven’t seen her in years. Not since I left her standing outside her dorm crying as I pulled away. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the blurriness further out of the way. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t concentrate on why Quinn’s here because I hurt all over. Please make it stop.

  “Call the nurse and tell her he’s awake,” I hear Quinn say urgently.

  Someone else responds in a deep familiar voice but I can’t quite place it. I attempt to sit up but the pain is all-encompassing so I fall back and cry out. I’ve got to be dying or already dead or this is the worst dream I’ve ever had. Why do I hurt so badly? If that explosion was real, I’d be dead. This has to be a dream. Please, please, please let this be a dream. If Quinn’s here it has to be a dream. Now I need to figure out how to wake up from it.

  Quinn’s voice is back. Focus on the voice. I always loved the sound of her voice. Maybe if I focus on that the rest will fade.

  “Judson, the nurse will get you something for the pain. Just hold on for a few minutes. The Colonel has gone to get someone.” Her fingers touch the over-sensitized skin of my forearm and I cry out again.

  What the hell is going on?! How bad is it?

  “Oh God, Judson. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I can hear the tears in her voice and that’s almost as bad as the pain. If this is a dream, I need to wake up soon. Dear God, if I’m dying please let me go now.

  Another voice joins in, this one unfamiliar, high-pitched and slightly annoying so I clench my eyes shut, not caring who it is. “Chief Rivers, can you hear me?” the annoying voice asks. I try to nod, hoping I am. “Chief Rivers, are you in pain?” I try to nod again.

  “I’m going to press the button on his PCA pump for his morphine. If you know he’s in pain, you can hit it the next time. He won’t be able to do it because his hands are bandaged. It’s this button right here.”

  My hands are bandaged?

  “I don’t want to hit it too many times and OD him. If he’s in pain, I’ll just keep hitting it to take that away. I can’t stand to see him like this.” Her voice shakes and even aft
er all these years I can still tell when she’s on the verge of tears.

  “You won’t. It’s set to only allow so much and so often. If he’s still in pain in between doses, let me know and I’ll get him something else.

  “Chief, I’m giving you morphine for the pain now. It’s going to put you back to sleep but it will help make you feel so much better.”

  My jaw aches from clenching my teeth and my eyes wouldn’t open again even if you used a crowbar, they’re squeezed shut so tight.

  “Breathe, Judson,” Quincy encourages. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Come on! You can’t hold your breath, it only makes it worse.” I can’t seem to follow her instructions because the pain’s so intense. “Breathe, damn it!” Quinn barks at me.

  I suck in a deep breath hoping to stop the panic in her voice and at the same time relief rolls through me. Sweet bliss to replace the pain. “I love you, Quinn. I always—” I release the air from my lungs unable to finish my thought and drift off as the darkness overtakes me. Quinn’s voice is now a distant memory.

  Quinn

  I sit cramped up in this chair next to Judson’s bed, exhausted, scared and overwhelmed. Seeing a man like him, with the physical strength and determination of an ox, reduced to what lies in that hospital bed makes me want to hurl curse words at God. Why Judson? I’ve asked this question a hundred times since I got here. Once the Colonel realized how upset I was he tried to get me to leave and go to the hotel, but that’s not going to happen. Judson saved me all those years ago. Who knows where I’d be now without his intervention. I was a self-destructive mess heading for my own demise when he stepped in, so there’s no way in hell I’m leaving his side until I know he’s going to be okay. I need to call his mom and Jenny, but it’s getting close to time for his next dose of morphine so I’m going to wait until he wakes up and needs it. Judging by his reaction the last time he woke up, he’ll be miserable, but this time I won’t have to wait to give him relief.

  When he told me he loved me the last time he got the dose of morphine I started crying. I was already keyed up because of watching his pain, but the possibility that he loved me was overwhelming. I’m certain it was the drugs talking because he said it as soon as the relief hit and couldn’t finish his sentence. I could tell the pain was lessening because all of his muscles relaxed so I shouldn’t have cared that he said it, but my hopeful heart couldn’t help but grasp on to those words.

  As I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair, I stare at the ceiling, thinking about the night he changed my life. I was 21 years old and I woke up with the cold bathroom floor biting into my back through my thin shirt while vague memories of the night before floated around in my mind. My mouth tasted like someone’s shoe after they walked through a cow pasture—that’s a side effect of drinking I don’t miss at all. I was sore all over, but had no idea why. I did know running into Marcus and Gwen triggered my balls-to-the-wall party mindset that night.

  I recall having no idea where I was or whose leg my head was lying on. Not one of my finer moments. Looking up I found a sexy, sleepy, hunk of a man looking down at me. Usually when I woke up with little to no recollection it was with someone I didn’t know. However, this time, I did know this guy. We were both pistol team scholarship students at the university. So we saw each other, often. Judson Rivers was the hottest member of our pistol team. Let me be clear, he was the hottest member of any team, pistol or otherwise, anywhere. We were always friendly, but I never had any indication he was interested in me.

  Some things stay with you forever and the tired yet concerned expression on his face is one of those things that even ten years later I can see clear as day. I tried to sit up and move away from him but the room spun so bad I had to plop my head back in his lap. At that point it became obvious the vomit odor in the air was my doing.

  “Hurting this morning?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

  “Um…yeah. You could say that,” I grumbled, covering my face with my hands, wishing I could hide behind them. This is not the guy you want to have seeing you in this state.

  “I knew you would be. You had yourself a really good time, until you didn’t anymore.” His voice was so deep it rumbled through me, irritating and settling me all at once. Such a peculiar feeling, I remember thinking. The sarcasm would’ve pissed most people off, but it made the whacked-out situation I was in that morning less horrifying.

  “Oh great, a smartass,” I mumbled.

  A hearty chuckle shook his body and in turn shook my insides. My stomach rolled over again.

  “Did we, um…you know?” Averting my eyes, I questioned him, terrified to hear the answer.

  He chuckled again. “No, if I’m going to be um…you know, it’s a requirement that the woman’s not actively puking.” Mr. Sarcastic struck again and I cringed.

  “I was that bad, huh?” Shit, shit, shit. Maybe I didn’t want the conversation to continue.

  “Yeah.”

  Curiosity got the best of me so I asked, “How long have we been on the floor in here?”

  “About five or six hours.”

  “Why are you still here? You should’ve left me on this floor and gone home.”

  “This is my home. You were pretty messed up and I was afraid if I left you on my bathroom floor overnight I’d come in to a corpse in the morning or have to clean up a room full of puke. I wasn’t in the mood for either. At least this way I could redirect you to the toilet or call 911 before it was too late.”

  I groaned in embarrassment. I knew I had to stop this train wreck. Seeing Marcus and Gwen was a trigger, but I should’ve shown some self-control.

  “Quinn. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

  “Tell you what?” I tried for an unaffected look, but it was hard to hide my expression when he pinned me with an intense stare while my head lay in his lap. Being vulnerable sucked. Not a new feeling for me at the time, but one I hated just the same.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Judson. I had a few too many last night, but look around, this is pretty normal college behavior.” My tone was a little snotty, but deflection had become a tried-and-true tactic at that point in my life. You’d think with all the people partying constantly in college no one would even notice me, but I wasn’t that lucky.

  “I realize we aren’t close, but we’re teammates and friends. I would’ve helped you.”

  I must have been failing miserably at my attempt to appear confused because he continued, “You can act like you don’t know what’s coming out of my mouth, but you spilled your guts last night in between rounds of puking. We’re going to have this conversation or I’m going to the Colonel to let him know how things are going for you on your off time.”

  He had my attention with that statement. The Colonel, aka retired Colonel Gene Banks, was the coach for our pistol team and the reason I had a partial scholarship. He’s also someone I respected and I would’ve been mortified if he’d found out how I’d been acting. I sat up again and pushed away, but the room took a spin so I found myself hunched over the toilet, dry heaving enough to cause stomach cramps. Sweat had collected on my brow and an overall feeling of exhaustion took over. Judson pulled me back so my butt rested on his thighs and my head was against his chest. I allowed the tears to leak from my eyes as I relaxed against him, but I stayed silent.

  “Quincy, I’m not judging you. I’m concerned. You said last night that you slept with that douchebag Marcus Brighton and ended up pregnant, but lost the baby. I have to know the story or I’m going over there to beat his ass just based on this small amount of information. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal because that guy is a serious fuckstick, but I’d at least like to have the whole story first.”

  I still sat there quiet. I couldn’t believe I’d told him all of that.

  “Quincy, speak up. I’m not kidding; I’m pissed enough to fight.” The authoritative tone warned me that he wasn’t making idle threats.

  I
sighed as the lump in my throat grew bigger by the second.

  “Yeah, I get that and appreciate you taking care of me and caring enough to want to kick his ass, but there’s nothing that can be done. He’s a dick. I just can’t seem to get myself together and get over it. I’m like a tangled bundle of wires. Not just on the outside, but the inside, too. I almost can’t function half the time.”

  “Brighton isn’t worth all of this. You’re falling apart at the seams. What else happened? Did he rape you?”

  “No, unfortunately I did this to myself.”

  “Explain. I’m not going to tell anyone. You can trust me, but I need to know the whole truth, Quinn.”

  I spent the next 20 minutes explaining how I’d had a crush on Marcus since I was a little girl so when he approached me at a party the previous summer I was giddy and ended up hooking up with him. The next morning, I found out that Marcus and Gwen hadn’t broken up like he told me the night before, she was just out of the country and he was horny. I could tell the story pissed Judson off, but he looked absolutely murderous when he found out I’d gotten pregnant from the encounter, lost the baby and my ability to ever have kids. Marcus claimed the baby wasn’t his so he wouldn’t feel any guilt, but I hadn’t been with anyone else, so it had to be his. One bad choice and my life was forever changed in a big way.

  Judson was quiet for a long time as I lay against his chest lost in thought. He continued to stroke my hair and said, “Well, if I can’t go over there and kick his ass then I’m going to stay here and help stop your life from spinning out of control.”

  I leaned my head back and flipped my eyes to his, holding my breath for several long seconds before asking, “Why? I’m not your responsibility.”

  “No, you’re not, but I care about you and I’m going to help you get through this. It’s not going to be easy, but you won’t be alone.” I remember hoping he wasn’t full of crap because I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going like I had been. Sighing, my eyes closed as I prayed I wasn’t dreaming this conversation. I’d been in need of a lifeline for a long time, but hadn’t known how to find one. My close friends would’ve helped if they knew what to do. Hell, most of them didn’t even know what happened to change me. They just knew I’d gone from normal college student to Miss Party Time seemingly overnight. I rested against him again, feeling relieved and so tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open.