Page 6 of Always You (Guardian Hall #1)

Chapter Six

Alex

I had to tread carefully. Patient confidentiality was a cornerstone of trust at Guardian Hall, but my concern for Jazz’s well-being nudged at those boundaries, and that was why, as soon as the door shut, I headed for the medical room.

“Marcus?” I asked from the door.

He paused, gave me a guarded look. “I can’t talk to you,” he said.

My heart sank. I knew he couldn’t talk to me about specifics, but to tell me Jazz was okay. Or at least as okay as he could be?

“Come on,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice even. “Give me something.”

Marcus’s expression softened, but he hesitated, then slipped off the white jacket and placed it on a hanger, smoothing it out. With his back to me, I couldn’t watch his expression, and I hated that. “Master Sergeant Brookes has requested that I be his primary point of contact.”

I felt a sting at that revelation, a mix of concern and personal hurt. “I understand that, and I respect his wishes,” I said softly. “How about… I mean… is there anything non-specific you can share with me to help him?”

Marcus finally faced me, and I hated that I’d even asked because my best friend’s expression was so damn sad. He studied me for a moment, then sighed. “He’s been through a lot, Alex. More than we initially realized. He needs space and time, as much as others who’ve come through our doors.”

I couldn’t help the pain that coiled inside me and made my throat tight.

“Did… Did he say why he doesn’t want my help?” I asked, although I knew the answer.

Marcus’s eyebrows knitted together, his compassion flaring, but his lips were set in a thin line. “He didn’t go into details. Just made it clear he feels more comfortable talking to me right now.”

I slumped against the doorjamb—I bet it wasn’t put in such a polite way after what I’d done to him. It had been twenty years, but the heart never heals from hatred being thrown at it.

Mine never had.

“What did you do to him?” Marcus’s blunt question caught me off guard.

I stepped back as if the words had physically pushed me. “I didn’t…”

Marcus held up a hand. “I won’t judge, you know that. But something happened between you, and you know I’m here to listen, If you need me.”

I knew he’d listen, and he wouldn’t judge me. After all, he’d seen me at my worst. Still, confusion and worry twisted tighter inside me. “I fucked up. I told you that.”

“So maybe you want to get it all off your chest,” Marcus suggested and leaned back on his desk. He was the same man who’d found me in the gutter and picked me up, my best friend now, the only one who saw me for who I was. I could sit down and talk to him, explain what I’d done to Jazz, and why, and hell, he would hug me, and it would be okay. But fuck, everything was so raw.

“I can’t.”

“Maybe it’s not what you did, whatever that was, but what he perceives you did,” Marcus suggested gently. “Trauma can twist our views, make us see threats where there are none?—”

“No, what he feels about me is completely justified.” I glanced over my shoulder down the hall to the closed door where Jazz was. I wasn’t ready to shut myself in this office to talk privately about things I’d done, not when Jazz might slip out past me without me having the chance to talk him into staying.

Still, I moved a little further into the room, standing in front of Marcus, and lowered my voice. “They made me,” I said, but closed my eyes.

“Oh, babe,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Then, it hit me, how much I was lying, and Marcus deserved more than convenient lies. “That’s not totally true. They didn’t make me, They told me what I had to do, and I just let it happen because I was weak.”

He reached out to me, tugging my sweater until I stood between his legs. Then he cradled my face. “Are you okay?” he asked. Do you need to call your sponsor? Do you need her? I can call Abbie for you?”

I opened my eyes and met his steady gaze—the very last thing I needed was to speak to my sponsor. I mean, I should talk to her because I recognized the trigger that would normally have sent me to a street corner. I could handle it. “No, I’m okay. I’ll see her tomorrow at group, anyway.”

“Babe?” he murmured, asking a hundred questions in that single use of his nickname for me, begging me to think about myself, and telling me in no uncertain terms that he understood my triggers as well as he knew his own. He slid his thumb over my cheekbone and waited.

“I promise you, I’m okay,” I lied. “But maybe I should take myself out of the equation somewhere else for a while. So, he stays and gets well.”

“You think that will help?” Marcus asked.

“It might be better for him.”

“You know I agree every person through those doors is important, but he’s one man, and what about everyone else who relies on you? Will you just throw all the team's good work to one side?”

Horror filled me. “No. Of course not.”

“But that’s what you’d be doing if you left. Yeah?”

“I know.”

“Can you tell me what happened, Alex. Or maybe how I can help?”

That was Marcus, always ready to help, always there for me to rely on. “It’s him I need to tell,” I said and buried my face in his neck as he hugged me.

He stood me back, patted my shoulder, and brushed himself down. “Don’t crease the shirt, babe, I have a hot date with a cute lawyer.” Then, he waggled his phone. “Here, if you need anyone, Louisa is the doc on call tonight, but call me if… y’know… okay?” That was Marcus, giving up just as much of his life as I did mine, and thankful for every moment we were still alive to do so. I knew if there was any issue, on a date or not, he’d be back as fast as he could if I needed him.

“I will.” I followed him out to the coat rack where he bundled up against the cold. “A cute lawyer this time, eh?”

He rolled his eyes at that. “Brad. Only twenty-three. But, in my head, he’s a lawyer earning six figures with a future in ruling the world and taking me with him,” he deadpanned, then brightened. “Still, I’ve seen his dick, and that was plenty cute.”

“Stay safe, yeah?”

He tapped my nose. “I’ll message you.” Then, he pulled up his scarf, and with a sketched wave, he left, and I shut the door behind him. I locked up and checked the security cameras were all working. Then, I headed for the office right next to the front door. Someone manned this office twenty-four-seven for anyone who might need us, but I wasn’t on the roster for tonight, and I wanted to be. With a quick call upstairs, I took the space in the office, swapping with our off-and-on accountant-administrator-everything-else guy, Carl, who was now making dinner for our eight residents and our small team in my stead. He called it a win, given he’d get to sleep tonight.

I called it a win because I got to watch over the front door, and despite all the training and experience and all the rules I would break, I would try everything and anything to stop Jazz from leaving.

Even if I had to drop to my knees and beg.