Her Soldier (That Girl #3) (15 page)

Chapter 14

Once again the light pours through the curtains, but this time there are no strong arms wrapped around me or breathing tickling my ear. The bed is cold and lonely. Beau never came back to the hotel, or called for that matter. I blew his phone up with calls and messages and finally passed out after four a.m.

Rolling over, my hand finds a piece of paper. It’s an envelope.

Dear Jenni,

Here’s a ticket. Please go home. I can’t do this anymore. I’ll always love you, but I can’t be your Beau anymore.

Chapter 15

“Want to stay here tonight, Jenni?” Jazzy licks her spoon clean. “Lynlee’s joining the par-tay tonight. Dude, it’s perfect. We are putting on pregnancy pounds and you can pound out some sympathy via a bad breakup.”

“Funny, bitch.” My eyes nearly roll to the back of my skull at her joke. “I’ve promised Aunt Danielle since returning to town that I’d come visit. Think I’ll just crash there tonight.”

Since stepping off the plane in Denver, I’ve stayed with Jazzy, borrowing her pre-maternity clothes and putting off my Aunt Danielle and real life. The three days of solitude at Jazzy’s was well needed, but it’s time to face the real world again. Time to tell Danielle that Beau is gone forever.

I’ve called and texted him numerous times with no response. I’ve even left messages for him at the hotel. Last night, the clerk asked that I didn’t call back because Mr. Morgan wished to receive no correspondence. I kindly proceeded to tell the young man on shift where he could stick his fancy words.

Before I put my car into drive, I check my phone one more time for a text or missed call from Beau, but find nothing except an empty screen. Not one single notification, not even from Facebook. My phone used to fill up with worthless, empty notifications from Facebook, mainly from people I never even held a conversation with, and mostly people who would never speak one word to me in public, but could sure as shit like every single one of my statuses. Now, I don’t even have that because the last few months I gave it all up. I was content with Beau and needed nothing more but him at my side, holding my hand and being an overbearing asshole.

Little did I know the overbearing asshole was haunted with his own demons and secrets. Secrets so far from my ability to comprehend. Secrets that could never be revealed or he’d be tried in a court of law by the same country he fought for. I just want him back. Quickly I send him a text before I pull out onto the main highway and wonder how many more days it will take before he’ll come back to me.

I go to the only place I’ve ever known as home, my Aunt Danielle’s. I don’t send her a text or warning that I’m coming because it’s always been known that I’m welcome there day or night. I know she’s missed me and Beau while we were out of town, or at least she thought we were. I made up a bullshit excuse for Beau missing pinochle night; it had to do with food poisoning.

Her house is dark without one single light lit. I find it strange because Danielle is like a ticking alarm clock, always on schedule and doing the same routine after routine. Maybe a girls’ night out or a new club she found. I’ve begged her for years to online date or join a local club, but the ruthless workaholic would never take my advice.

Using my key, I enter the house and find it vacant. Her car is gone and her bedroom empty, and I can only assume she’s finally taken me up on my advice. My room is welcoming and instantly puts me at ease. I’m not sure if it’s everything welcoming to my eye or the overwhelming scent of my own room. It’s a simple combination of oranges and lavender. A smell always in my aunt’s home, the one thing to comfort me and to come home night after night.

“I’m finally home. Now what?” My voice echoes in the pitch-dark room. The smell is the only thing that comforts me, and before I realize what happens, sleep takes over and numbs every single one of my sensations.

***

Light peeks through the curtains. My eyes are swollen from a deep sleep and several tears shed yesterday. Trying to pry them open, I roll over to see the numbers on the alarm clock facing me. I’m shocked to see it’s already almost ten a.m. Not one memory graced my dreams last night. It was completely dark, leaving me in the deepest sleep of my life. My reflection in the mirror begs to differ. Not only do my eyes feel swollen, but the bags underneath them tell a different story. I blame the stress, heartache, and tears for the bags and not the quality of sleep.

Washing my face, I wonder if Auntie is out in her garden, down in the kitchen, or already at the bakery. I sure as hell didn’t hear a thing. Someone could have robbed us blind last night and I wouldn’t have noticed.

“Danielle.”

Nothing in response. Taking two stairs at a time to the bottom level, I call out her name again and again, but hear nothing in return.

“Damn you, Auntie, where are you?” I mumble to myself while pulling out my cell phone. Immediately I notice the red battery flashing at me. I didn’t plug in my phone last night, and I’m paying the price today. Quickly before it runs out of juice, I shoot her a quick text.

Me: Where are you?

Me: I’m home and want to hang today. <3 you!

Just like any other time in my life, everything is in place in her home. Danielle has always offered up a haven for me, right down to the perfectly placed Keurig on the counter. Roaring the machine to life, I run down the possibilities of places she could be. It’s hard telling with her since she’s such a workaholic. I giggle at my thoughts of her actually joining a club or doing a ladies’ nights because that’s just not her, and if Aunt Danielle has been anything she’s always been herself. The one thing in life I could count on, and I need her now more than ever.

I need her to lay all my problems on. She never judges, just listens, and then gives me a neutral response. Younger, it always pissed me off, but now I know it’s because no one has all the answers. She knew the moment Beau entered this home that I was in love with him, and she only warned me to watch out for my heart. I should’ve listened to her, as I stand here in her kitchen with a shattered heart, permanently damaged and scarred. I’m not sure that’s even the correct term for it. I’m past the heartbroken stage.

My warm coffee is gone, filling my empty, cold belly. I decide a shower is the best way to clear my mind. I sent two texts before entering the hot shower. One to Danielle and one to Beau. The two people I so desperately need to function. Moments and minutes pass under the hot spray as I analyze and overanalyze every single conversation with Beau, wondering if I could have done something different. Just one thing. One less blow-up caused by me, and maybe, just maybe he’d be in this shower with me. Soon the memories we shared under the steady hot stream of water become too painful. Turning off the shower, I step out and quickly dry off, trying to avoid all memories.

It’s obvious that in my mood I won’t be going anywhere today, so I settle for a pair of yoga pants and an old hoodie. As soon as I drag on the hoodie I hear the doorbell go off. I almost second guess myself, thinking I heard something, but then it goes off again and I know for sure it’s someone at the front steps. My heart stops and I can only hope a tanned, gorgeous man is standing there, ready to accept me back in his life.

It’s possible. He knows where my aunt lives, and he would know beyond a shadow of a doubt this is the place I’d run to. And Danielle would enter through the garage rather than come through the kitchen door. Yes, it has to be my Beau.

I dash to the front door. This time I take three or four steps at a time, not worrying about how I look or if I get hurt. Breathlessly, I pull open the door and see two police officers standing on the front steps. Trying to focus on their faces, I don’t recognize either of them. I look past them to their car, worried Beau is in the back seat following a violent outburst, but it’s empty. Exhaust flowing from the tail end of it catches my attention and hypnotizes me. It takes extreme concentration to bring my eyes back to the men’s faces.

When my eyes land on the officer on the right, my gut immediately sickens. The look covering his face is nothing but remorse and sorrow. Dragging my eyes to the other officer, his face is stone cold, not telling anything.

“Is this the residence of Danielle Lee?” The stone cold police officer places his hand on the top the pistol resting on his hip.

I try to reply yes, but no sound comes out, although my mouth makes the motion. Finally, I nod.

“Ma’am, is this the residence of Danielle Lee?” This time it’s the other police officer, and I find his voice is much more welcoming and soothing.

After moments of silence, I finally reply, and find myself revealing way more information than they wanted to hear. “I’m Jenni Lee, her niece. I haven’t been home much over the past couple months. Wait, I actually don’t live here. I have an apartment, but yes, this is Danielle’s place.”

“We need to speak to her closest kin.”

“That would be me.” My hands instinctively cover my heart for the blow that is about to hit me. “We are the only family each other have. My dad is gone, which is her brother.”

“Ma’am.” The kind officer steps a bit closer to me. “We found your aunt in her bakery this morning after a call reported suspicious activity.”

I listen as his words sink in. Several different scenarios flash before me.
Did she fall and break a bone? Did someone rob her? Where is she?
As each question processes, I begin to feel my breathing heighten and slowly lose all control.

The stone cold officer’s voice takes over the conversation as my vision goes blurry.

“We found your aunt at her place of work. We need you to come down and identify her.”

His last two words are my ticket to a full-fledged panic attack.
Identify her
repeats over and over in my mind. I’ve heard this phrase in movies and know what happens next, but I refuse to believe a single word.

I turn to the kind officer. “Which hospital should I go to? And what room is she in?”

His face drops with my questions. The bolder officer steps up with his hands on his hips.

“Your aunt was found dead. We need you to come down and officially identify her at the morgue.”

My knees collapse and all the air escapes my lungs. I try to cling to the tile floor and can’t find anything to grip on to. I want to scream, but can’t force it out. Hell, I can’t even find the air to get words out. My world spins as I realize my only family member is gone. The one person who loved me through every single flaw is dead.

Off in the distance, I hear my cellphone ring. It seems further away than it is. Reaching in the front pocket of my hoodie, I see it is only Lynlee calling, but I can’t find the button to answer. It’s as if everything I’ve known for years is now gone. My rock, my foundation has just been ripped out from under me.

The gentle officer reaches down, easing the phone from my grip. His golden name badge flashes before my eyes and I focus in on each letter. Officer Kelenger. My thoughts wander as everything is a steady, fuzzy picture. I wonder if Officer Kelenger has ever experienced losing a loved one, or if this is a nightmare. His voice seeps into the blurry pictures in my mind and I try my hardest to focus in on it.

“Yes, this is Officer Kelenger and I’m here with your friend, Jenni. We’ve just delivered some bad news, and she may need some help from a friend.”

There’s silence as if he’s waiting for someone else to talk, but the voice never comes. I keep plastered to the white tile covering the foyer, hoping if I stay on the ground long enough these police officers will leave and take their news with them.

“Thanks, Lynlee, and about how long will it take for you to get here?”

Silence again. I watch as one set of pitch black boots walk out of sight, leaving only one pair standing before me.

“We’ll wait here for you. All right. Thank you.”

Silence again. And then a knees covered in a dark blue material enter my vision near the ground.

“Jenni, Officer Kelenger here. Your friend, Lynlee, is on her way. She’ll drive you to the correct office.”

I know he intentionally avoids the words
morgue
and
body
and
aunt
in an effort to comfort me. His tactic works for a moment until I overanalyze every word he didn’t use in my mind.

“Jenni, I’ll be waiting over there in my car. Your friend will be here in a minute.”

I don’t make eye contact and feel rage consume me. It’s a monster taking over in me. My aunt is dead. Beau left me. Every single person who has ever loved me ends up leaving. They’re all gone. Rage is in full power.

My hands find my phone the officer laid next to me. Looking up just enough to see the screen from my huddled position, I try Beau’s number one more time. This time a tiny seed of hope grows, as on the first ring it doesn’t go directly to his voicemail. Four rings go by, and nothing. Then after the seventh ring it goes to the standard message about this person’s voicemail not being set up. In this moment, I carve an inscription on my heart. “Beau is dead to me.” I delete his number, sit up on my knees, and use my sleeve to wipe away my tears.

Cranking my arm back, I throw my phone as hard as possible against the wall and watch it shatter. Several tiny pieces—and I’m guessing the most delicate ones—fly everywhere. The main part of the phone is still intact, and crawling over I find it. Ironically enough, it begins to ring, but the screen is as destroyed as I am. I begin to laugh hysterically at the picture. Pulling my arm back again, I hear a deep, familiar voice before I chuck the phone one more time. This time it flies through the foyer window, shattering glass in every direction.