“IT’S JUST BEEN a long time, and I was upset.”
Not the first words a man wanted to hear when he woke up after a night of passionate lovemaking. But there they were, and Clint was at an obvious disadvantage, since he was lying on her couch, an afghan draped over his privates, while Jessi hovered above him, already dressed, looking both worried and…
Hungry.
It was there in her eyes as they slid over his body and then darted back to his face, as if she was doing her damnedest not to look at him.
They’d never even made it back to her bedroom last night, instead using the long L-shaped couch to its full advantage.
Well, if she thought he was going to make it easy for her…
He slid up and propped himself up one of the throw pillows as he eyed her right back.
“Well, that’s a hell of a good morning.”
She took a step closer. “Sorry. I just don’t want you to think…”
“That last night meant something other than great sex?”
Her eyes widened. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“So it did mean something,” he said, not sure which he preferred.
“No.” She held out a hand to stop him from saying anything else. All that did, though, was give him a way to reach out grab her wrist.
She half laughed, half screamed. “Clint, stop. I’m trying to be serious.”
“Oh, honey, so am I.”
She let him drag her to the sofa and haul her down on top of him, where a certain area of his body was already displaying its delight at this turn of events.
“Wait. Let me finish my thought.”
Leaving his fingers threaded in her hair, he looked at her, knowing his next words were not what he wanted to say at all. Hell, he didn’t want her to say anything except what she wanted him to do to her. But he forced the words out. “Okay, so talk.”
She drew an audible breath. “I just didn’t want you to think last night had anything to do with Chelsea.”
Her eyes trailed away from him, but the words themselves hit him in the chest like a bucket of ice water, sluicing away any hint of desire and leaving a cold trail of suspicion in its wake.
A sour taste rose up in his throat.
“I hadn’t thought that at all, Jess.” He rolled until she was wedged between him and the back of the couch as he stared at her. “Until just this very second. Did last night have something to do with her?”
“No! Yes. There are just things that you don’t know. About how her father…about how Larry died. Not even Chelsea knows. But if someone from our past sees you, I’m afraid she could find out.”
“I think you’d better tell me, then.”
Jessi’s eyes filled with tears. “A few months after we got married he told one of his friends I was pregnant. Well, the friend had seen us—you and me—leave graduation together and come back within minutes of each other. It got him thinking. He suggested Larry ask me whose child I was carrying.” There was a pause before she continued. “We had a huge fight, and he accused me of sleeping with you. When I wouldn’t deny it, he said Chelsea probably wasn’t even his.”
She shifted against the couch, and he eased back to give her some breathing space.
Clint could barely open his mouth. “His death?”
“He stormed off…so very angry. He went to a bar, and then a few hours later his car hit an embankment. He died instantly.”
Hell. He felt like the biggest ass in history.
He leaned his forehead against hers, guilt causing his muscles to cramp. One more thing destroyed by his lack of control all those years ago. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Jessi. I had no idea.”
So many mistakes: if he hadn’t impulsively raced after her that night. If he hadn’t stayed there with her and done the unthinkable… If he hadn’t left her to deal with it all afterwards.
The small box of baggage from the past morphed into a shiny new trunk of regret.
They remained like that for a minute or two until Jessi gave a little sniff.
He scooted back some more, giving her a chance to compose herself, trying to ignore the quick swipe of palms across damp cheeks. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
Then…or now. But it would seem he’d done both.
And he knew what he had to do to keep from hurting her further.
He sat up and slid off the sofa, conscious of her eyes following his movements as he gathered his clothing and headed for the bathroom just down her hallway. After he’d flushed and washed his hands, he dressed quickly, avoiding his image in the mirror as much as he possibly could, because whenever his eyes met those in the reflection, angry accusations stared right back at him.
How had he let this happen again?
When he was around her, his common sense went out the window, and he let his emotions rule.
Just like his father. He didn’t hit, but his actions caused just as much damage. Dammit, they’d culminated in a young man’s death. Someone Jessi had loved.
He had to take himself off Chelsea’s case. It was no longer about remaining objective but about doing what had served him—and everyone around him—well for the last twenty-two years: staying away from emotionally charged situations.
If he’d known the details about Larry’s death, he would have taken himself off Chelsea’s case that very first day. This time, though, he wasn’t going to let Jessi carry any of the blame for what just had happened between them. Nope, he was going to stuff it into his own bag of blame. One that seemed to swell larger every time he laid eyes on her. When he returned to the living room, Jessi was still there, seated on the sofa, only this time she had a phone to her ear.
“Of course, honey,” Jessi said to whoever was on the line. “I’ll check with Dr. Marks and see how soon we can arrange it.” Her glance met his and she mouthed, “Chelsea.”
Jessi’s daughter was calling her? Right now?
He sat beside her, suddenly very aware of all inappropriate things they’d done in this house last night.
The second she clicked off the phone, she finally looked at him. Really looked at him. “Chelsea wants to talk about something.” She licked her lips as if afraid of saying the next words. “She wants us both to be there.”
* * *
Please, don’t quit yet.
The words chanted through her skull as Clint dropped her off at Scott’s Memorial to pick up her car and then waited for her to follow him back to the VA hospital.
They hadn’t said much once she’d got off the phone, and the interior of his car had been filled with awkward silence and a sense of dread that had blocked her stomach and clogged her throat.
How could she have been so stupid to think last night wouldn’t have any serious repercussions? Her only excuse was that it had felt so good to be in his arms. So right.
The timing had always been lousy when it came to her and Clint. If he’d stayed all those years ago, she never would have married Larry. But she never would have had Chelsea either.
And just like last time Clint wouldn’t be there for the long haul. As soon as they’d found a replacement for him, he’d be gone.
He would waltz out of her life once again.
It’s just not meant to be. It never was.
The words trailed through her head as if dragged on a banner behind a plane for all the world to see.
Her subconscious rejected them, though, cutting the line and watching as the lettering fell to the ground in a swirl of white canvas and belching smoke.
Before she had a chance to come to any conclusions, Clint pulled to a stop in one of the few parking spaces that had another spot beside it. She slid her car next to his and took a couple of deep breaths before she got out and went to where he stood, waiting. “You won’t say anything, will you?”
Clint looked at her as if she had two heads. “About what? Larry? Or about us having a second one-night stand?”
A flash of intense hurt zinged through her chest, making her gasp for air.
As if realizing what he’d done, he hooked his index finger around hers. “Sorry, Jess.” He gave a squeeze before letting her go. “I seem to spend a lot of time issuing apologies nowadays.”
She tipped her chin back. “Let’s just see what she wants.” The words came out sharper than she’d meant them to, but maybe that was a good thing. She could put her armor back in place and pretend last night had meant nothing. “We can discuss everything else later. If we could avoid arriving at her room at the same time, that would make me feel more comfortable.”
“So you want me to hide out in my office for a few minutes before joining you.”
Saying it like that made Jessi realize how cheesy and paranoid the idea sounded. “You’re right. Let’s just go together.”
Once they got to Chelsea’s room, they found her seated on the bed, that eerie tissue-paper baby on top of the nightstand. Jessi tensed. That had to be what she wanted to talk about.
She leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Chelsea grabbed her around the shoulders, wordlessly hugging her tight for a minute or two. Then she whispered, “I’m sorry for putting you through what I have for the past couple of months. I love you, Mom. Always remember that.”
A chill went over her at the solemn words. She stood up and glanced at Clint. “All that matters is that you start feeling better.”
“I think I will as soon as I get something off my chest.”
Once they were all seated, Clint started things off with some light conversation, never even hinting that he’d been with Jessi in anything other than a professional capacity. Instead, he asked about Jessi’s day at work yesterday, subtly guiding her to tell the fishhook-in-the-ear story. Chelsea actually laughed right on cue.
“You hate worms,” her daughter said.
“I do. I still remember you bringing in a jar of dirt for me on Mother’s Day. Little did I know that that you and Grandpa had spent hours digging up earthworms to put in it.”
Chelsea grinned again. “You screamed when one of them dug through the dirt and slithered along the inside of the jar. Grandpa laughed and laughed.”
Jessi smiled at the memory of Chelsea and her dad’s conspiratorial glances at each other as they’d handed her their “gift.”
“You always were the fearless one.”
“Not always.” Chelsea’s smile faded. “I need to tell you something. Something about when I was held in Afghanistan.”
“Okay.” She glanced at Clint, but he simply nodded at her.
Setting the doll in her lap, Chelsea took a deep breath. “You were right about my pregnancy. I was expecting when I was captured. I hadn’t told anyone because it meant a ticket straight home—and I didn’t want that. The whole thing was so stupid. It was an accident. I kept meaning to do something—say something—but I put things off…and put things off.” Her eyes came up. “And then we were ambushed.”
Jessi’s heart contracted. “Did they…did they do something to you, honey?”
“No.” Chelsea glanced up at the ceiling her eyes filling with tears and spilling over. “I mean, they didn’t hurt me physically. They isolated me and made me change into a long, loose tunic. Then they wrote a script and forced me to read it in front of a camera.”
Jessi had never heard about any message, but she didn’t say anything, just let Chelsea continue talking.
“As one month turned into two, the isolation started to get to me, and I began talking to the baby. Every day. I went from just wanting her to go away to needing her for my own survival.”
Her?
Oh, God, had they made Chelsea deliver the baby and then stolen it from her? Was that what the doll was all about?
When Chelsea’s words stopped, Clint voiced the question that Jessi couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“What happened to the baby?” The line of his jaw was tight, as if he too was struggling with his emotions right now.
“She died.”
“Oh, Chelsea…” Her mind went blank as she tried to find the words to say. But there was nothing.
“She died, and I couldn’t do anything to save her.”
“Your captors didn’t help?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want them to know I was pregnant, because I wasn’t sure how they’d react to an unmarried woman carrying a child. So I hid my condition. It wasn’t hard under the robes. I was in my cell most of the time, and I figured once I delivered, they’d let me keep her, or maybe even let us go.”
Clint spoke up. “How far along were you when you were captured?”
“Around three months.” She turned to glance at him. “I lost track of time after a while, but I think she was born around four months into my captivity.”
Too small. Without the help of modern medicine the baby wouldn’t have had much chance to survive.
Chelsea continued. “She came in the middle of the night. She was so tiny. And absolutely perfect.” Her fingers caressed the doll. “She never even cried. I held her for a long, long time, praying for her to take a breath.” Her voice broke for a second, but then she continued. “After a while, I knew she was dead, and I was afraid if anyone found out, I’d be killed, too—and I didn’t want anyone other than me touching her. So I tore off a piece of my robe and wrapped her in it, then I scratched a hole in the dirt floor of my cell with my fingernails and buried her. I was rescued less than a week later.”
A couple more tears trickled free, and Jessi reached over and held her hand, her own vision blurry.
“I’m so, so sorry, Chelsea.” Her daughter had dealt with all of this by herself. There’d been no one there to help her…no one to comfort her. Her own heart felt ready to shatter in two.
A box of tissues appeared on the tiny table in front of them. Chelsea took several of them and wiped her eyes and then blew her nose before turning to look at her.
“Once she was gone, I realized just how alone I was. I couldn’t even mark my baby’s grave. And if I died there, I would be just like her. Dumped in a shallow grave somewhere. No one would even know I existed. After I got home, I started thinking maybe that would be for the best. That the baby should have survived. Not me. That I should be the one forgotten, instead of her.”
Clint leaned forward. “You wouldn’t have been forgotten, Chelsea. People would have grieved deeply, just like you grieved for your baby. You have a mother who loves you. A grandmother. Comrades in your unit. And you’re right where you should be. You’re here. Alive. Everything you did while in that cell had to be done. It gave you a chance to survive. Gave you a chance to make sure your baby would never be forgotten.
“If you had died, her memory would have died with you.” He paused, keeping his gaze focused on her. “And yet look at what’s happened. Your mom now knows about her. I know about her. You’ll probably talk to more people about her as you live your life. She won’t be forgotten. Your very survival makes that a certainty.”
Chelsea seemed to consider his words for a minute, and then nodded as if coming to a decision. “I’d like her to have a grave here in the States. A marker with her name on it.”
“Of course we’ll do that.” Jessi wondered if the ache in her heart would ever stop. She’d been about to be a grandmother of a baby girl who might have survived, given access to modern medical facilities. But those were things she could never say to Chelsea—would never say to her. They would decide together whether to tell Chelsea’s paternal grandparents. Larry’s parents were still alive, and Jessi and Chelsea kept in touch with them regularly. As for her mother…
They could think through all that later. The important thing was that Chelsea was talking. Working through things she hadn’t told another soul.
She had to ask. “Does the father know?”
“No. I never told him, and there seems to be no point now.” She licked her lips. “And he could get in serious trouble if the truth were made known.”
“Why?”
“He’s an officer, and I’m not. We weren’t supposed to get involved with each other to begin with.”
Jessi shot Clint a glance that was probably just as guilt-filled as she feared. But he wasn’t looking at her. At all.
“Did you love him?”
“No. And he didn’t love me. It just happened. Neither of us meant for it to, and we’ve never gotten together again. It was just the one time.”
God. Chelsea could have been describing exactly what had happened years ago, only with different players. And Chelsea was right about one thing. Larry had found out and the consequences had been disastrous. And so very permanent.
Her stomach clenched and clenched.
And unlike Chelsea, she hadn’t learned from that mistake all those years ago. She’d gone right back and done it again.
Jessi hadn’t been able to resist Clint.
She never had. He’d been just as taboo as that officer Chelsea had spoken of.
Chelsea glanced at Clint. “You told me during our first meeting that you were here to help me get through this. So I’m ready to try. I promise to work really hard.”
Clint stiffened visibly in his seat.
Chelsea, totally unaware of the strained dynamics in the room, kept on talking. “Did you go through boot camp, Dr. Marks?”
“I did.” Nothing in his voice betrayed his feelings, but Jessi knew. She knew exactly the struggle going on inside him right now.
“Then you know a soldier agrees never to leave a wounded comrade behind.”
He gave a quick nod.
“I may not be missing a limb or have any visible external injuries except these…” she held out her wrists, showing the scars “…but I am wounded. So please, please don’t leave me behind.”