Her Soldier (That Girl #3) (11 page)

I know it’s an obvious transition of topics and don’t give even a single fuck. It takes my friends a moment to soak in my words, and I know the noisy club isn’t the best place for conversing.

“That’s great, Jenni, how long will it take you?” Lynlee asks.

“Depends if I get distracted.” I laugh at my own joke. “But it looks like just ten more months.”

“Proud of you, girl.” Levi reaches over and pats my hand on top of the table.

My tactic is successful as our conversation is carried into my education, stories from Jazzy and Levi’s honeymoon, and about Lynlee’s new job with ESPN. She’s over the moon excited about it, and I know it fits perfectly with her love of the sport. Before she met Lincoln she knew nothing about football, but their relationship developed and grew with football at the center of it. Lincoln sits back, relaxed, holding Lynlee at his side and proud as hell.

Beau does an amazing job of keeping conversation flowing, showing off his own knowledge of football, and I mirror Lincoln a bit, sitting back in a relaxed, buzzed state and enjoying my friends. I would’ve bet my whole nail polish collection this never would have happened after my attempted shopping excursion with the girls.

After pounding down a few more drinks and begging Beau to go back out on the dance floor with me, I’m ready to leave. We make sure to find the clan and say our goodbyes. The guys all do their manly shake, and I wrap my girls up in hugs.

Beau gets me safely in the truck and I slide over to the center. He drives in silence with our sweaty bodies filling the small cab. He rolls down his side window, and the slight breeze feels nice against my skin. My eyes are giving me one hell of a fight as I battle to keep them open long enough to get answers from Beau.

“You know Lynlee.” I don’t waste my time asking the question because it’s clear they know each other. Were they lovers? Did they work together somewhere? They both came from different places with drastically different stories.

“Jenni. I’m not going there tonight.”

He cups my face with his right hand and continues to steer with the left. I stay in place, leaning on his shoulder and watching the flashing lights go by on the street. When I go to respond, his phone rings. As I sit up, I notice the time on the dashboard. It’s after midnight and he’s receiving a call.

“Hello.”

He’s silent for several minutes as he listens to someone. I can hear the deep baritone voice on the other end. I slump away from him, not happy with the situation and definitely not thrilled with his reaction to my statement. My cheek hits the bench seat and my eyes shut within moments. Beau’s hand lands on my hip, peeling up my shirt and rubbing my back as he talks and drives. It only takes seconds before I pass out.

Chapter 10

My throat is dry and visions of ice-cold water fill my thoughts. I’d do anything right now to be able to chug a gallon of water. My tongue is bone dry, as is my throat. Rolling over, my bladder yells at me, and then a sharp pain strikes in my head. When I finally open my eyes, the curtains in Beau’s room are drawn and I’m still thirsty. Patting around the bed, I find that I’m the only one in it. Stretching up, I see it’s past ten a.m. The overwhelming need for water forces me from the bed.

After visiting the bathroom, I slowly shuffle out to the living room. The blinds aren’t drawn and the sun freely shines in. Wincing and covering my eyes, I walk into the kitchen and fill a glass of water. I chug it quickly and then immediately regret it when it whirls and churns in my belly. I don’t have enough energy to run to the bathroom in case it decides to come back up. Instead I take the few steps to the small dining room table and sit down. I lay my face against the cool table then wrap my arms around my head, blocking out any sunlight and sound. Even though the apartment is completely silent, my head is still throbbing.

I’m not sure if I’d dozed off or not when I hear the front door open and shut. I hear Beau’s footsteps and heavy breathing. He tosses off his tennis shoes and walks past me into the kitchen. He’s been running, and I can tell this without even looking up.

“Hey, hon.”

I keep my eyes closed and face buried. I feel him approach and then lean down and place a kiss on the back of my head. His sweaty hand sneaks in to pet my cheek.

“Not feeling hot there, tiger?”

“I feel like shit.”

I hear him step into the kitchen, running water and making all sorts of effin’ racket. I know exactly what he’s doing; he’s taking care of me. I hear the sizzle and pop of something frying, then an overbearing spicy smell.

“Here, you need to eat something spicy and take these pills.”

I finally pry my head up and see a plate of fried eggs covered in red Tabasco sauce and a glass of water with two blue pills lying next to it. Beau doesn’t sit down with me, which kind of shocks me, but right now I can only focus on my pounding head and dehydrated body. I hear the shower turn on and try to eat my eggs.

To my surprise, the zesty eggs soothe my spinning stomach, and my headache tones down to a dull roar. Finishing the food, I get up and clean my plate, and fill another glass of water, then wait at the dining room table for Beau. He walks out into the living room, wrapped only in a towel and holding an overstuffed blue folder. He tosses it on the table, sliding it over to me, and turns his back.

“You can read it, but I can’t answer any questions you may have, Jenni.” He turns to me. “Think if you want this burden before you open it.”

“Beau.”

He steps closer to me and leans down on the table, splaying his palms out. “There’s no Beau and no more discussion, Jenni. You get what you get in that folder, and I can’t offer you any more than that. I’ve fallen in love with you, and this is all I can give you.”

He turns around and walks into his room. I hear his bedroom door slam shut, and am left staring at the folder. I try to digest his words and tone of voice. The fact that he just told me he loves me doesn’t even soak in with the blue folder staring back at me.

I flip over the front flap with one finger without a second thought. I need to know him. A much younger version of Beau stares back at me. It’s a wallet sized photo paper-clipped to the inside of the folder. He’s buzz cut and clean-shaven, but his strong jawline is unmistakable. Underneath his photo is the name Jeremiah Abbner. My heart stops and I know it’s him, his dog tag, my soldier. His young, innocent eyes break my heart. There’s a happy and carefree look to him that I rarely get to see.

When my vision focuses in on the other side of the papers, I see the word “CLASSIFIED” stamped in bright red ink. I try to read the paragraph below it, but it is in such technical terms it’s difficult to comprehend. Words like dissolve, identity, threat, and mission fill the page.

My fingers tremble as I flip to the next page and see another picture of Beau printed on the paper. The only recognizable element is his eyes, and it shocks me there’s not one other thing I recognize. He has a full beard that touches his chest, long, unkempt hair, and he’s wearing a soiled shirt. The look in his eyes is the complete opposite, and under this picture the words “Mission Complete” are stamped.

Again I try to process each word on the printed pages and get lost quickly, but this time it’s from the brutal content. I focus in on one paragraph, which nearly destroys me.

Sergeant Abbner completed his mission of terminating his target on August 18, 2012. In the process, innocent civilians were either harmed or killed. Under further investigation, it’s in the opinion of the review committee that he shouldn’t be penalized or charged with a crime since he was following orders. Abbner was declared killed in action while being held prisoner of war and then escaping and successfully completing his mission. It was the decision of his superiors to classify him as being killed when they had prior knowledge in order to protect his identity and his mission. Although we know he can’t reenter society, we do recommend no further action.

I can’t make out the name of the signature and reread the paragraph several times. The scars on the back of his legs come into clear focus in my mind. All the puzzle pieces fall together quickly as I reread the words ‘prisoner of war.’ His outbursts and fits of rage are his scars as well. The page next to his picture and summary is filled with all his stats. When he entered the military, what department he was in, rankings, special medals, and then his death certificate photocopied and minimized at the bottom of the page.

The next page is yet another picture of Beau, and this is the one I can connect with the most because it’s my Beau. His beautiful eyes shine through in the photograph but with a twinge of a haunted look. This page is simple with not much detail.

Beau Morgan

Birthdate: July 19, 1989

Blood Type: O Pos

They erased his entire past. There’s a loose piece of folded paper next to Beau’s picture and new information. I unfold it carefully and see my name in a manly script.

Jenni,

I’m not even supposed to share this information with you, but with any hope of the two of us building a future together I feel like it’s a necessity. Your question last night at the club killed me when I couldn’t answer you. In fact, even your friend, Lynlee can’t answer it because she doesn’t know, but now you do.

I met Lynlee, or Michelle as she was calling herself back then, when I was Jeremiah and before I was deployed for the last time. She came to Gram’s bakery on her birthday and I scared her and made her fall and hurt her wrist. We spent the afternoon and evening together. I took her to get her first tattoo, the bird one on her foot, and then she left before I could take her to the hospital. I’ve regretted that night for a long time and have felt guilty never making sure she made it to a hospital for medical attention.

What this file doesn’t tell you is that I was married to my high school sweetheart and we have a little girl together. I caught her in bed with my best friend and filed for divorce before I was deployed, but the papers were never finalized. Gram died of a broken heart when she heard of my death, and I was given a new identity and told never to contact anyone from my prior life. They left me no choice.

Even writing this letter I’m left confused as fuck on how to respond, but you wanted to know how I knew Lynlee, and that’s how. I fight with my demons on a daily basis, and some days I win while others they conquer my mind, heart, soul. I feel like I’ve been swept under the rug or locked away in a closet and have to struggle to find the old me. But that’s the thing it will never happen. My daughter will grow up thinking her father died in war. Gram went to her grave with a broken heart because of my death.

And yet, I live and live with these burdens every single day of my life. I’ve fallen for you, Jenni, and hard at that. I love you and want to protect you. I blow up and may seem unreasonable at times, but it’s me trying to hold on to love again. Don’t ever give up on me.

Beau

My eyes are filled with tears as I read the last line. It hurts the most, and I can feel more of him in those words than anything else in this whole folder. His note falls to the table as my tears begin to soak it. I continue flipping through the folder. Pictures of his family fill the rest. His gram’s smiling face in front of her bakery, his ex-wife, his baby, and random other people. Below every single one of these pictures is a no contact order.

I don’t read the rest of the content. Closing it, I stand and make my way to his bedroom. I knock lightly before I open the door. Beau is sitting at the bottom of his bed with his back to me, still wrapped only in a towel. He doesn’t even flinch when I enter.

No words come to me. There’s not one thing I can say to make anything better or comfort him. Right now words are meaningless. Sometimes we just need to feel.

I place the folder with his letter inside on the top of his dresser and then pad over to his nightstand. Beau’s head remains down. I know he hears me and knows I’m near. My fingers tremble as I pick up his dog tags. The metal clangs and I wrap the necklace around my fingers and squeeze it tightly. The chilly material causes my mind to flash back to Beau’s picture after he safely made it back into the hands of the U.S. I’ll never forget the blank stare in his eyes.

I fight back the tears, refusing to allow them to sabotage this moment, and if any do escape they’ll be happy tears. With his dog tags clutched in my hand, I step over to him. Wiggling in between his legs, I bend down and kiss the back of his neck, and then raise his face up to mine. He has tears flowing, and it’s the first time he’s ever let go of any real emotion around me. Opening my hand, I expose the dog tag to his vision and he doesn’t move. I wanted to give him the option, but when he doesn’t respond I move forward. Using both hands I place the necklace around his neck and position it perfectly on his chest. Prying his face back up to focus on mine, I finally know the words I need to speak.

“Thank you, Beau.” I place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I love you too. It was enough.”

He doesn’t respond, so I dip in slightly and kiss him again. This time I deepen the kiss, trying to express everything to him. He fights it at first, only mildly responding to me.

“I love you, Beau Morgan and will never give up on you.” My hands find the metal on his chest and grip it so tightly my knuckles quickly turn white.

“Do you hear me? I fucking love you. You’re my soldier.”

No words, but all action. Beau has me pinned with my back pressing into the mattress. I don’t let go of his dog tags as he covers me, attacking my mouth. Our bodies are pinching my hand as the metal digs into my flesh. I meet his tongue with every stroke and kiss him back as hard as he kisses me. My free hand feels his towel fall away from his body. I rub every part of his skin I can get to and want to drink in all of him.

“I love you, Jenni.” The words are lost in our kiss, but I hear him say it for the first time…and so does my heart.

He uses both of his hands to pull down my panties while the majority of his weight crushes me. He enters me fast and hard and is back up on his hands pounding into me. I grab onto his dog tag with one hand and his hair with my other. I pull hard on his hair as he relentlessly drives into me. Neither of us makes a sound as we punish each other’s bodies. For the first time we truly expose our naked selves to one another.

Beau collapses on top of me and tries to roll off, but I don’t let him. I want to lie with him forever, covering me, protecting all of me. It’s my place in life, and my mind eases a bit knowing I’ve finally found home.