Casualties of Love

by Denise Riley

  “Yes, sir,” Jessica said as she stood. “Thank you, sir, for everything the Academy has provided for me here, for all of your encouragement and faith in me. I’m sorry I have let you down.” Jessica watched him as he prepared to leave. He seemed reluctant, paused at the threshold of the doorway.

  “Jessica…” he started but stopped himself. “Good luck, Ms. Watts.”

  After processing out and making arrangements to get home, Jessica did the thing she dreaded more than resigning. She found Tyson.

  “Hey. There’s my pretty girl. Where’ve you been?”

  Tyson grinned at her as he pulled her into his room. He immediately wrapped her in his arms and backed her up against his door. When he dipped his mouth to hers, Jessica couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t resist the kiss knowing she wouldn’t enjoy the taste him on her tongue or the feel of him pressed to her body for a long while. She clung to him in the near desperation that swamped her and that all of her internal coaching had suddenly failed to staunch. She tired unsuccessfully to interrupt the flow of the tears she could feel rapidly pooling at the corners of her eyes.

  When Tyson pulled back his easy smile faded quickly as he witnessed the tears rolling down her face.

  “Jess, what’s wrong? What happened?”

  Jessica tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come. She shook her head at him. She simply didn’t know how to start. How did she tell him she was leaving? How did she walk away from the person she loved more than anything?

  “Jessica,” Tyson said softly. He let go of her waist and caught her face up in his hands. Using his thumbs, he wiped the tears beneath her eyes before kissing them away from her cheeks. “Tell me. What’s going on? Why the tears?”

  “I...don’t even know how to say it,” she admitted to him. Her eyes were closed, and Jessica’s fingers were clutching the fabric of his shirt at his sides. More tears slipped beneath her lids. If I could just figure out a way to stay. Her chest ached.

  “Sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart, here. You know I hate it when you cry,” he joked with a chuckle. She knew he was trying to cheer her up, trying to coax the information out of her. His thumbs were gently brushing across her face.

  “I never cry,” she countered. Which was true, and now she’d been in tears twice in a single day.

  “Which is why I’m freaking out,” he sent back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. More than he knew, she was sorry.

  “No, Jess. You don’t need to be sorry. Just talk to me. Ok? Just talk to me,” he pleaded.

  And she did. Jessica told Tyson she was leaving. He didn’t want to believe it, told her to not even joke like that. But, she showed him her letter of resignation and the signed forms from the Academy Commandant and Superintendant. She made him understand that she was serious. He demanded an explanation and refused to accept the ones she offered up.

  “Jessica, don’t do this,” he pleaded.

  “I have to. There’s just stuff I need to deal with. I can’t stay. Look, you guys will finish up and you’ll make excellent officers. But, I need to go.”

  “And what about us? What about me and you?” Tyson asked. He had been pacing the room. He stopped and his stormy gaze drilled into hers.

  “I don’t know. I…need some time. You know; we’re so young. What if we both got sent to different places, how could it work out anyway?”

  “It would work because I love you, Jess. I love you and you love me. Where we are won’t matter and it won’t change that. Besides, when we get married the Army will consider that in assigning us.”

  “You don’t know that, Tyson. Just…I have to leave. I can’t stay here.”

  She had turned away from him. It was so hard to look at him when he talked about being together, having a future with her. Tyson stepped close behind her and put his arms around her waist. He enveloped her in his warmth and strength. He held her really tightly, like he might be able to hold her captive to keep her with him. He tucked his head into her shoulder. Jessica could feel his heart beating out a frantic beat against her back. She was the cause of his alarm and it made her sick to her stomach.

  “Baby, please don’t do this.” Hearing him call her ‘baby’ weakened her knees. Hearing him beg her to stay was almost too much. “Let’s go back to the Commandant’s office and take it back. I’ll go with you. We’ll tell him you made a mistake. Whatever is going on, whatever’s causing you to want to go we’ll fix it. Don’t leave, babe. Don’t leave me, Jess.”

  But, she had to go.

  For many weeks after she left, Tyson called every chance he got. He called and begged her to tell him what was going on with her. It got increasingly hard to ask him to let it go, to let her go. She wanted so badly to be with him, to talk to him about everything, but she couldn’t and it was emotionally exhausting. She missed him more than she’d thought possible. When she’d returned home, things were not easy. Her grandmother was argumentative and critical. Her father tried to be there for her, but didn’t really know how. He was still struggling with his depression, which had worsened in her absence. She needed Tyson, but knew that if she leaned on him, he would come for her. She couldn’t let him do that.

  So, Jessica sucked it up and waited for him to graduate. Then, they could work things out, she told herself. She didn’t want him worrying about her. She wouldn’t risk him leaving the Academy to “rescue” her, because she knew that was what he would do. But after a while, it was too hard to ignore her need for him. It was too hard to turn him away. So, she stopped answering the calls. She ceased all communication. She ignored him while promising herself that everything would work out in the end. It was a promise that failed to keep.

  Present Time; Military Hospital in Afghanistan

  Tyson let out a low moan. The sound broke Jessica from her thoughts. She put the supplies that she was holding down and picked up a damp cloth on the table beside his bed. She dipped the towel into the cool water and, after squeezing it out, she wiped Tyson’s furrowed brow. She would talk to the PA, the Physician’s Assistant, about his pain meds. He didn’t need to be in any pain in the first few days. He needed to rest easy. Without thinking, she laid the towel down and continued to brush her hand along Tyson’s forehead and over his soft dark hair. She closed her eyes at the familiar feel of the silky stuff beneath her fingertips. She softly traced his arched brows with her thumb, smoothing the lines on his forehead until he quieted. By memory, Jessica traced the line of his strong, chiseled jaw and his squared chin. She let her fingers drift over his. She didn’t know how long she stood there with him like that, gently caressing him, but she opened her eyes and pulled back as soon as she realized what she was doing. She took another look at Tyson, picked up the supplies, and walked away to check on another patient. She never saw the eyes watching her from across the room.

  Chapter 3

  Tyson felt like…like he’d been blown the hell up. If his memory of his last mission served him correctly, that was literally the truth. He remembered the IED going off and blowing the wheels off of a vehicle that was at the checkpoint and pitching it onto its side. Before they could ascertain what had happened, they were fully engaged and hustling to counter the attack. There had been no intelligence indicating potential problems. But, with insurgents around every bend and Islamic extremists in many of the households, an explosive device could be placed within a matter of minutes. Impromptu attacks, while not as frequent as they had been in the last year, were not completely uncommon.

  Knowing all of that didn’t go very far in helping his current state of discomfort. I hurt like hell. Looking around, he realized he was in the military hospital. Somebody around here’s gotta have some pain meds, he thought. Then, he forgot about the meds and wondered where his men were. The last thing he saw was Lassiter and Jones going down. He’d never even gotten a chance to get eyes on Collins and the rest of his team. He shifted his eyes and saw a woman standing near the door.

  “Ma’am,” his started. His voic
e was scratchy, his throat dry. Swallowing and clearing his throat he tried again. “Ma’am.” That attempt was a bit better and the woman turned. She was pretty, looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her. At her expression, he gathered she was surprised he had spoken. She moved over to him and he took note of her insignia.

  “Welcome back, sir,” she stated. “Good to see you with your eyes open.” She moved a small cup with a straw in it toward Tyson. He took a sip of the water that was in the cup. She looked at him expectantly, but Tyson didn’t know what she was looking for. Should he know?

  “Yeah? How long was I out?”

  “In and out for three days. I’ll get the doctor for you.”

  “No. I mean, sure do that, but tell me something first. Where’s my team? The men that were brought in with me. We were hit hard; I can’t be only one in here.” God, he couldn’t be the only one to make it out.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t here when you were brought in. But, J.C. went out on the MEDEVAC and came back with you guys when you were brought in. I’ll check.”

  “Ok. Check with him then. I need to know where my guys are.”

  Tyson looked around the room again. Stark and white. There were two other beds in the non-descript room. There was one guy in a bed, but he didn’t recognize the sleeping Soldier, and the other bed was empty. He could hear sounds of people moving around outside the room. There was talking and shuffling and beeping machines. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and he breathed through the discomfort. The sharp tang of disinfectant hit his nostrils. He grimaced a bit, but that only seemed to increase the ache in his head. It felt like he’d been hit with a bat at the base of his skull. Lifting his left arm, he noted the wrapped fingers. Guess I broke a few of these again.

  Tyson tried, but couldn’t sit himself up. The pain that knifed its way through his outer thigh halted his feeble attempt. Crap that hurt. Closing his eyes, he pushed down nausea and thought back to being brought in. He knew he must have been nearly unconscious because he couldn’t remember much of it. There were bits and pieces, several flashes of memory that he couldn’t quite string together in proper order. Then, there was the weird perception of... Jessica. He’d thought Jessica Watts was there. He could swear he’d heard her voice, seen her face through a thick haze. And, wasn’t that ridiculous? He had not seen Jessica since before he graduated the Academy. That had been a long time ago.

  Jessica. He wished that he couldn’t believe that he was thinking of her; that it had been so long that he was surprised she had crossed his mind at all. He wished. The fact of the matter was that he thought about Jessica a lot more than he liked to admit. Sure, there were times when he was so keyed up or exhausted from training or focused in the field that she didn’t enter his train of thought. There had been times when there were other women that he’d been with to try and fill the void. He rarely thought of her then. But, then there were times when he would hear a voice or smell a fragrance or see smooth, bronzed skin and she was at the forefront of his thoughts for days at a time. With the last fuzzy memory of the day of the ambush, he had heard her sultry voice. That voice had called his name. He’d practically felt her touch.

  Tyson frowned. He’d almost gotten killed, could easily be dead right now, and here he was thinking about the girl who had left him years ago. Tyson let out a sigh. Shit. It was pathetic…and still he tried to hold on to it as long as he could. He thought about her light lavender fragrance and her soft body. He thought about the way she used say his name and how she would look at him with those big brown eyes. He thought about the bright smile that would make his chest tight and his heart pound. In all the time that had passed, Tyson could still see her face in his mind’s eye.

  He pictured smooth brown skin and luminous eyes that shined out of her pretty face like dark gems. He saw sensually bowed lips and a pert nose. Long, dark hair framed her high cheekbones and softly squared chin. Beautiful. Soft. Feminine. His. Somehow thinking of her helped with the pain in his body, though it called up the dormant ache in his heart. He moved his hand to rub that spot in his chest, and winced.

  And, again, just where the hell were the pain meds? Surely these idiots knew he needed some. He’d been blown up for goodness sake!

  “Dude. You’re awake!”

  Tyson turned his head toward the door to find his best friend and XO being wheeled into the room. He smiled despite the discomfort.

  “Damn, man, I’m glad to see you,” He said to Marcus Jones, his voice was still rough. Though, this time the raspy quality might have been from bone-deep relief rather than lack of use.

  “Me? How about you? You’re the one that’s been knocked out damn near a week.” The medic that was pushing Jones helped him into the bed across from Tyson and left the room.

  “Yeah, I feel like week-old crap, too.”

  “You got banged up pretty good. Lot of us did, Cap. It was FUBAR, for real.”

  “Yeah, I don’t remember getting here, but that I remember. Where is everybody? How is everybody?”

  Tyson looked at his silent buddy. Marcus’ face was solemn. He knew there were things he wouldn’t want to hear, but he simply waited. Marcus would tell it to him straight.

  “In a lot a ways we got lucky, Ty, but in some ways we didn’t. We’re lucky we got out at all. It was tight. Collins is probably gonna lose a foot. Lot of the boys got real dinged up. A couple, like Collins, won’t be able to come back.” Marcus paused and shook his head. “Lassiter didn’t make it.”

  “Damn.” Tyson closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Damn.”

  Lassiter was a good Soldier, a better man and friend. He was married. Had a son. Like a lot of Tyson’s men, he’d been deployed multiple times. A lot of his guys had been in the heat with him for a long time – repeated months of training, two twelve-month stints in Iraq, and now a year in Afghanistan. Lassiter deserved to make it home to his kid. Hell, everybody deserved to make it home. Too many Soldiers didn’t, though. Tyson looked back at Jones.

  “Yeah, it’s no good. No good at all. I wish one of us was there to break the news to Terri. I don’t like that she’s going to hear it from a stranger, somebody who doesn’t know Lassie.”

  “I hear you, but looks like me and you are stuck in here for a while. We’ll have to be there for her when we get back.” Marcus nodded. “That arm broken?” he asked Jones.

  “No; the shoulder got dislocated…again. Pretty bad ankle fracture.” Jones pointed to his left ankle. “Shrap all up my back. And a concussion, though not a bad as yours.”

  Tyson grunted after Jones did his rundown of injuries. It was old hat to them at this point, which would be sad except war came with injury and pain.

  “I’ll be out of this joint before you and Collins,” Marcus said with a small smile.

  “Yeah, but you better get some much needed R&R while you’re here. I was probably out so long because I needed the sleep,” Tyson joked.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Marcus said with a grin. Then, he paused for a bit, looking intently at Tyson.

  “What?” Tyson inquired.

  “You know somebody here.”

  “That didn’t sound like a question,” Tyson stated.

  “It wasn’t,” Marcus replied.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s this Sergeant. J.C. I think the name is. Been checking on you real tight. Making sure you’re good and on their asses about managing your pain and stuff.”

  “Well, I hurt like hell, so where’s this J.C. now?” He shook his head. “I don’t know anybody other than the people I’ve met since being here the last six months. What’s he look like?”

  “No, man, not he. Definitely not he,” Marcus said with a grin.

  “I thought I knew that Specialist that was in here when I woke up, but couldn’t tell you where from. Little bitty thing? Blonde?”

  “Unh uh,” Marcus said shaking his head and broadening his smile. “This one…she’s tall and stack
ed to be sure. Don’t know if I’ve ever seen a Jane that pretty. Hell, any chick not just military. Smooth cocoa skin; big, pretty eyes. And, man when she talks…shit. It’s like silk.” Marcus stopped speaking and frowned at Tyson. “What? Why are you shaking your head at me?”

  “Nothing, it’s just…” Tyson let his sentence drop. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t be her.

  “Well, this woman is...like whoa. Super sexy. She keeps her hair pulled back in this tight bun, but I can just imagine it hanging all soft and down around her shoulders. And her body in uniform is a thing of loveliness, my friend.” Marcus suddenly looked quizzical, as if he’d just realized something. Then he said, “She could be my candidate wife.”

  Tyson ignored that and closed his eyes. Marcus found a new “candidate wife” every other month. He claimed to be determined to find a mate, but inevitably a more attractive woman would catch his eye and trump the last one for wifely status. Tyson had never known him to truly be serious about a woman. He dated, but never any one girl for too long. None of them ever measured up. To what standard, Tyson had never been privy.

  Tyson took in a deep slow breath. His leg felt like it was being slowly burned from his body with a blowtorch. He heard Jones talking, but couldn’t really pay attention.

  “Hey, there’s the future Mrs. Jones. I’m gonna yell at her to get you some stuff.”

  Tyson could hear Jones hollering at some Sergeant. When he’d said the word “yell”, apparently he was being literal. Tyson supposed it wasn’t like either of them could get up and go find help. In the moment, all Tyson could think was that the other guy in the room with them must be real bad off if he could sleep through all the noise Marcus made. Then, mere seconds later, Tyson couldn’t think at all.