Page 17 of Always You (Guardian Hall #1)
Chapter Seventeen
JAZZ
I loved you with everything a teenager could, but I had a path I was following, and I grew up.
The words were out before I grasped their weight. It wasn’t his fault I’d enlisted. Nothing he could have done would have stopped me from pursuing the soldier’s life, a legacy my father and grandfather handed down. It was what I’d always wanted, and for the most part, I’d felt right in that life. That was until I stayed too long, until my mind had become too crowded… until I’d seen too much.
“We both grew up,” I added, gesturing around to emphasize his achievements. “I mean, look at what you’ve accomplished! I always thought you’d end up working for your dad but look at this—how you’re helping people!”
Alex winced and dropped his gaze, tapping one finger on the counter. His discomfort was obvious, and I realized I might have been too enthusiastic in my praise. I didn’t remember him being so averse to attention, but then again, twenty years is a long time.
“A lot of this is thanks to Marcus,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “He found his purpose quicker than I did when we were in college. I lost my way for a while, but Marcus helped me find it again. He dragged me to my first AA meeting.” He rummaged in his pocket and placed an embossed chip between us, turning it so I could read the engraved message: One day at a time. “I’ve had my relapses, messed up more than once, but now… I’m thirteen years sober.”
Addiction was something I’d seen too often in veterans, and in the people on the streets who either protected me or just needed to forget. I had immense respect for anyone who could battle their demons.
“Congratulations,” I said, feeling proud of him. I recalled the few times I’d visited his place back in school, seeing firsthand the intense expectations laid on him by a family obsessed with wealth. “I’m glad you connected with Marcus. He’s a good man.”
That could have been me. I could have been there for him. I should have been there for him, for my wife, for Harper. I shouldn’t have lost my way.
He laughed—a sound tinged with irony—and flipped the coin over his fingers before gripping it. “Marcus was the boyfriend who helped me see what I could do with all that money I didn’t want.”
Boyfriend? That was news to me.
“Boyfriend?”
“Well, yes and no.” He,” he smiled. “We had a few dates, some kissing, but only that. It didn’t stick, and now, he’s more family than my own parents and siblings. That’s easy, though, considering I don’t see any of them anymore.”
“You don’t?” Part of me felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he’d distanced himself from his toxic family.
“They weren’t interested in a son who didn’t want to be part of the family business. But I had my degree, my trust fund, and I wanted to be useful, to be there for people.”
“You must be proud of yourself,” I murmured, unsure of what else to say.
“Sometimes,” he answered with a snort of laughter. “And other times? Not so much.” When he smiled, it reminded me so much of the Alex I had fallen in love with so long ago, free of worries and burdens. It was dangerous to think about those times, considering we’d both moved on, had both grown up. Still, I smiled back at him.
“I get that,” I admitted. My addiction had been to self-sacrifice and duty and look where that had led me.
“I got your letters,” he blurted out, and I blinked, surprised by the shift in conversation. “I’m sorry I never wrote back, but I was… I was a mess, and then, it felt too late, and we weren’t friends anymore. I’d like us to be friends again.”
I stared at him, stunned. Friendship? After everything? Any friend of mine now would have to deal with my mental health issues, my unemployment, my nightmares—all while I tried to rebuild my broken relationships. No one needed that burden. I realized I’d been silent too long when he stood up, pocketing his chip.
“Anyway, I should go. I know you have sessions today.”
“Wait, Alex?—”
He shook his head, cutting me off. “It’s okay, Jazz. I have a meeting at ten.”
I hurried after him as he walked to the office and sat at the computer I’d used. He was offering me friendship, and I’d just stared at him like an idiot.
I rubbed at my chest, feeling a tight knot of regret. “You okay?” Marcus asked, pausing beside me and glancing over his shoulder at Alex.
“Yeah, just… therapy,” I managed, and hurried up to the second floor for the next part of my day before Marcus could ask any more questions.
In therapy, I wasn’t sure if it was the chip, the words, or the offer of friendship from Alex, but for the first time in one of our sessions, words came easier than I thought. We went through the usual questions about how I’d been feeling lately—okay. How I was eating—enough. Whether I was sleeping—some. And whether the nightmares still woke me. That was a harder question to answer.
“Every night,” I confessed, “do they ever stop?”
“Sometimes,” the therapist replied honestly, but I already knew the answer. The room stayed quiet, except for the clock ticking on the wall, marking the time until I could leave. “Have you done some thinking about your choices?”
During the last session, she asked me to examine my major decisions since leaving the Army and consider whether I would make the same ones again. She wanted me to think how I ended up on the street. Maybe it had been her plan all along, but I got lost in my earlier choices and regrets.
“I went back a little further than after leaving the Army. Is that okay?”
“Of course. This is your time.”
I paused, unsure how to begin. “My choices mean I have a lot of regrets,” I admitted. “I let my military career come between me and my wife, Olivia, and with Harper, our daughter. I wasn’t there when they needed me, not really. It cost me my marriage and time with my daughter.”
The therapist leaned forward, her expression one of understanding. “How long were you married?”
“Isn’t that in my notes?” I joked, but she smiled in encouragement. “Olivia and I got married young,” I explained. The marriage didn’t survive my career, nor did having our daughter keep it together. Loving her was the simple part. Being there for her, consistently and fully, was where I faltered. I missed everything, and each time I returned home, I found Harper a little taller and Olivia more distant. “We divorced when Harper was eight.”
“Do you still have feelings for your ex-wife?”
I considered the question. “We were friends once and happy before everything fell apart. I respect Olivia immensely, but the love we had… it changed. I was absent too often, and when I was home, part of me was still away. It created a distance I couldn’t bridge when I finally came back for good. She wanted me to stay away from Harper, and she was right to do that because I was so messed up.”
The therapist’s lips thinned, perhaps disagreeing with my harsh self-assessment, but she hadn’t lived my life; she couldn’t know the stress I’d brought to Olivia’s door.
“It sounds like you’re grappling with a lot of what-ifs about your past,” she observed.
I nodded, the what-ifs a constant ache. “Yeah, and it’s not just about my family,” I said, thinking of Alex again.
“Go on,” she encouraged.
“I’ve, um… reconnected with an old friend, someone important from my past, and it’s bringing up a lot of old feelings. Makes me wonder how things could have been if life had been different.”
If Alex and I had stayed friends.
If he’d written back to me.
If being a soldier hadn’t consumed me.
The therapist’s gaze was keen. “It’s natural to wonder about the roads not taken, especially when you’re facing regrets.”
I thought about Alex’s recent words, how he’d said he wanted to be friends. “I want to be better. For my daughter, for my ex-wife, even for my friend. I want them to see that I’m trying to fight the nightmares, to settle back into real life.”
“That’s a valuable goal,” she replied, jotting something down in her notes. We talked longer about regrets and nightmares until our time was up.
“Can I ask you something before we finish?”
“Of course.”
“With my…friend…I was always the strong one out of us, and I can’t be that for him this time,” I admitted.
“Okay, so do they expect you to be the strong one? Do they know what you’ve been through?” she asked.
“Some of it. They know I’m broken,” I said, and she frowned—I knew she hated when I described myself that way.
“Are they kind to you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do they reinforce your self-doubt? Do they use the word broken?”
“No, but…” I struggled to explain. “It’s complicated.”
“Okay, well, I want you to remember to be kind to yourself in all things.”
“I try.” I really am trying.
As the session ended, I felt a mix of exhaustion and a glimmer of hope. Harper was coming to visit soon, and Alex was right here in the building.
I needed to find Alex.
Resolved, I left the room and headed to track him down. As I walked toward where I last saw him, I was determined. We had a lot to talk about.
Starting with friendship.