Break My Heart (The Heart Series Book 2) (34 page)

“I’m here. I’m right here,” Will murmurs against the crown of my head, rhythmically rocking our bodies like we’re adrift at sea with nothing to hang onto but each other.

I cry until there are no more tears. I sob until my throat hurts. When there’s no energy left, I give in to the soothing rhythm of his heart against my ear, and I sleep peacefully for the first time in a long, long time.

قلب

My superior has summoned me at 0600 hours. This can’t be good. I’ve only been at this post a few months, and I’m already in trouble? Knocking on his door, I brace myself.

“Enter.”

After letting myself in, I stand at attention in front of his desk. I’m instantly ordered ‘at ease’ and I do as I’m told.

“Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

My CO introduces the two uniforms standing to his side. “This is Sergeant Major Reynolds and Captain Jimenez.”

The sergeant is holding a manila folder. Possibly orders? Am I being transferred already?

I’m so deep in my thoughts that I fail to notice the awkward silence in the room. The men look at each other, and my CO nods at them, giving silent permission.

Sergeant Major clears his throat. “Lieutenant Harper, it is my duty to inform you that Sergeant Major Carlos Ramirez has been killed in action. On behalf of the United States Army—”

“Stop.” The word comes out automatically. “I’m not his next of kin, besides, he’s not dead.” I clear my throat. “All due respect, I believe you’re mistaken. He’s in Iraq at the moment, stationed at the medical—”

“Lieutenant!” my CO’s booming voice interrupts, bringing my jumbled rambling to a screeching halt. “An explosive device went off near his vehicle during operations.”

This is a joke. A test. This isn’t happening.

“We know you’re not the next of kin, Lieutenant, but he left specific instructions.” The Sergeant opens the manila envelope, removing several papers. “Sergeant Major Ramirez wanted you to escort him home.”

“Excuse me?”

Escort him home.
“Escort him, you mean…his body?” I blink in disbelief. The room gets blurry, my head is pounding, and my stomach rebels against me. I’m going to be sick.

They continue to talk, but I can’t listen. I want to cover my ears but I can’t. I can’t stop my lips from trembling. This can’t be happening because I just talked to him right after graduation. He told me how sorry he was that he wasn’t able to pin the LT bars on me at the ROTC commissioning ceremony. How proud he was of me...how important it was that I keep up with my kickboxing and training.

How he would call me on my birthday.

My throat burns with grief, anger, shock, defeat, sorrow. I want to crawl under my desk and weep.

“Lieutenant? Ma’am?” A strong masculine voice shakes me back.

I can barely focus. Fighting my lids from blinking, I keep tears at bay, and swallow thickly. “When do I leave?”

“Today. You should reach Germany to pick up his body on April first—”

My twenty-first birthday.

“Sir, may I be excused? I think I’ m going to be—”

“No!” I bolt upright. My breathing is ragged, and my eyes burn. Warmth covers my entire body and I blink away the brightness. Squinting, it takes me a minute to figure out where I am.

Will. I’m in Will’s arms.

“Will?” I call softly, and he stirs lazily. Gently moving his arms, I pry myself loose and reach for my phone. It’s eight in the morning. I’m being questioned in an hour.

There’s a text from Charlie:
Tommy showed up at the hospital. He’s staying with Chris while I grab a shower. Chris’s brothers are taking shifts. No change in Nelson’s condition. Good luck with Teague.

“Will?” This time I’m more forceful.

He wakes up with a jolt. “What? Are you okay?” His clothes are wrinkled, exhaustion mars his strong profile along with small bruises, dark circles frame his earnest eyes, and he’s pale again.

“I’m sorry for barging in last night. I have to go meet my boss. About the shooting.”

He sighs heavily, nodding absentmindedly. “Of course.” Pushing up, he stretches his arms and rubs his large palms over his weathered face.

I’m still wearing Chris’s black dress. I found it buried deep in my closet. Regret pays a visit, bringing last night’s actions into the bright, shining light of a new day. Wincing, I rub my temples, trying to smooth out the throbbing tequila headache coming on.

“Where’s Tom?”

I whip my head in Will’s direction. He’s leaning against the semi-exposed brick wall that was once covered by old drywall.

Now it’s me rubbing my face awake. “He’s at the hospital.”

So much loss. Tommy and I. Chris and Nelson. Will and my grandmother.

“What is wrong with me? Everything I touch turns to shit,” I state, bitterly.

Happiness is an illusion built on nothing but smoke and mirrors. Joy is a sandcastle waiting for the tide to wipe it away. The love of Chris’s life is dying while the culmination of their love is manifesting in a new life, growing inside her.

What a joke life is.

“That’s not true. You help people. You told me so yourself.” The sofa dips and Will’s warmth radiates my way.

“I didn’t save Nelson, did I? And so much for helping Sue Harper.”

Will sighs in resignation and takes my hand. “My mom used to say that everything happens for a reason. You came into my life at a time where my heart was closed for business. I didn’t think I could love again.” Humor lights up his smile. Those dimples break out on his pale face. “But you wiggled your way in there and pried it open a smidge.” His mood slowly morphs into heartbreak. “Then Lily showed up, and by golly, she cracked my heart wide open and made herself at home.” He traces my knuckles with his fingers, and my skin absorbs his touch. His gaze never wavers from our entwined hands. “Fate is a funny thing. I was convinced I would never love again but once I found it, I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let
her
go. It never occurred to me that maybe the reason she came into my life was for me to be here for you when you needed me.”

My head falls against his shoulder in sorrow. Will was just what I needed. He was here when I needed him the most—again. Maybe he’s wrong. He called me an angel once. Maybe he’s my guardian angel.

“We have lousy timing, you know that right?” I whisper.

His shoulder shakes as he chuckles and my head bobs against it. Placing a soft kiss on my forehead, he taps my hand and returns it to my lap. “That we have. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman have nothing on us.” Laughter dances in his eyes, as bright as the clear, sunny morning.

I can’t fathom moving on without my heart, but that’s what Will might have to do.

“I’m not giving up on you. We’ll get you sorted out, I promise.” My chest squeezes for him.

He deserves the world.

قلب

I’m drilled for two straight hours by Teague, Internal affairs, and the ever-present but silent Dr. Evelyn Matthews.

Recalling yesterday afternoon, I answer all of their questions calmly.

Nelson and Ryan did locate evidence incriminating the suspect. We were putting in a call for CART and Special Agent Bomb Tech, when Nelson exited the apartment and I followed closely behind. Nelson was barely out the door when I saw him flinch and try to reach for his weapon as he looked down the hall; before I had time to assess what was happening, I retrieved my weapon and shot the suspect three times, but not before he got two shots into Nelson.

The shooter hadn’t shown up in any of our previous surveillance records of the building. Surveillance didn’t get a visual on him until he ran into us.

They ask the same questions. They know procedure but keep asking the same crap over and over. Once in a while, I glance at Dr. Matthews, her delicate features and inquisitive eyes watching me.

I’ll be ordered to see her every damn day. I’ll never see the field again.

She’ll ask about the other things. The things I didn’t want to answer. Like how Nelson choked on his own blood as I pressed on his gut as hard as I could, assuring him he’d be fine. Him grabbing onto me, trying to speak. ‘
Tell Chris...love her so much
.’ How he reached for his wedding band, wanting to make sure Chris got his personal belongings.

His eyes, God...that look of shock and disbelief. Mirroring my own.

The thoughts that plagued me on the ride to the hospital: Chris standing by his casket, being handed the folded flag. That Chris’s baby would never meet his dad.

How easily it could have been me stepping through that doorway first instead of Nelson.

Had it been me, Tommy would never get my flag; next of kin gets the flag, as well as the words that assure our loved ones our sacrifice was well worth it. He wouldn’t hear them.

And finally, something I’ll never tell the good doctor: the revolting thought that my mother—the woman who made me feel like I’d done her wrong my entire childhood—would be bestowed the honor of receiving our nation’s thanks for my ultimate sacrifice.

Suddenly, my job doesn’t seem as important anymore.

Not Teague, the bureau, my career.

Love. That’s what’s important.

Chris, being there for me even when I didn’t want her to be.

Nelson, loving her like she deserves.

Tommy, sticking with me through thick and thin. Watching my back for years while struggling with whatever demons he’s got weighing him down. Have I been there for him?

Of course not. I’ve been too absorbed in my own bullshit.

All this time, I’ve been terrified of losing him. By not telling him the truth, I lost him already.

He knocked and knocked, pounded on my head demanding to be let in, and what did I do? I shut him out. He grew tired of waiting and moved on.

Through hell and back, and what do I have to show for it? Scars. Heartache. Loss.

I might have lost Tommy, but at the moment, Chris needs me and that’s where I need to be.

I quit
.

“Excuse me?” Teague’s voice startles me. “What did you say, Agent Harper?”

Did I say that out loud?
“Nothing. I need to leave.”

I’m done. I waste no time bolting out of the conference room and rushing back to my desk. I need to grab my gear and get back to the hospital.

“Agent Harper?”

Shit. I was so close. I stiffen, barely out the door, as I hear Dr. Matthews calling after me, her heels quickly clicking along the marble hallway.

“We need to talk.”

Of course we do. Great.

I rub my temples and suddenly my head weighs a hundred pounds.

“I can’t do this right now.” I sound defeated, and she watches me warily.

I have to be there for Chris. Nelson would want me to. Besides, if there’s one person that has been there for me for the last six months, it’s Chris. From when I arrived at Northwestern almost twelve years ago, to the day I woke up in the hospital last October. Chris has always been there for me. It’s the least I can do for her.

“It will just take a minute. Can we set up a time to meet tomorrow?” It sounds like a request, but it isn’t. I look over her shoulder and notice Teague standing by the conference room door watching me.

“Two p.m. tomorrow, my office?” She looks at me expectantly. Teague is not moving. He’s listening.

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply curtly and eye Teague. He nods my way and turns to leave.

قلب

After leaving the office, I spend the afternoon at the hospital. Chris refuses to leave Nelson’s side. Her mom had no choice but to drive to her place, pack her a bag, and bring her a change of clothes.

Chris wouldn’t even move when I asked her to eat, reminding her of the baby. However, one mention of how pissed Nelson would be if he knew she wasn’t taking care of herself had her peeling her eyes off his respirator and numbly raising from that chair long enough to join me in the cafeteria. I couldn’t get her to shower; maybe Rafe might get her to once he comes back. They’ve always been close. At least I got her to eat, wash her face, and change her clothes. The fellow nurses have been fantastic, even bringing an extra bed to Nelson’s room for Chris—not that she’ll use it. After lunch she lay next to Nelson, looking like a little kitten curled up with a bear; her petite body snuggled against his six-foot-five frame. She caressed his hair, murmured sweet nothings in his ear, all the while my eyes stung and my throat burned. I stayed quiet, tended to Chad, Nelson’s brother. Finally, Charlie arrived with Nelson’s parents, and I peeled myself away, my heart in pieces.

قلب

I’m utterly spent.

My apartment is just as I left it. I’m in dire need of a hot shower and a good cry. Once I reach my bedroom, I freeze in the doorway.

Tommy is sitting on my bed.

He’s wearing a suit like he’s ready for work. The ends of his hair are wet and he’s clean-shaven. He must have just stepped out of the shower not long ago. He’s playing with his keys but stops as I walk into the bedroom.

“How’s Nelson?” he asks, true concern in his voice.

“No change.”

Before he begins, I feel the need to put a stop to whatever is about to happen so I scurry into the bathroom. “I’m beat, Tommy, good night.” Without waiting for a reply, I lock myself inside.

I stay under the spray for a few minutes, or hours, and it’s not long enough. My exhaustion is not going anywhere.

There’s only one reason Tommy would be here: to pack his things and return my key in person.

I towel dry my hair and throw my old FBI t-shirt on.

Tommy is still sitting on the bed, just as I left him.

His elbows resting on his thighs, he looks up at me, and his bright emerald eyes take me in with nothing but compassion. It disarms me, but I try to stay strong.

“Can we do this later, please? I don’t have it in me.” My voice is hoarse and defeat laces my words, but I’m unable to stop it.

“It’s all right, you don’t have to say anything. You just have to listen.”