CHAPTER SIX

Jaden

We were done. There was nothing more to do for Axel but wait for him to recover, or worst-case scenario, for his body to give out. All along, that kid had been fighting like a champ, but his injuries were in a realm none of the team members had ever encountered all at one time. Certainly, his injuries were the worst I’d ever seen.

We’d agreed to put him in a thirty-six-hour medically induced coma in the hopes his body will heal enough for him to begin to truly physically recover, and then later withstand the trauma of knowing he’d lost his leg. He’d learn he’d have a difficult, long recovery road ahead of him.

For me, it meant that unless I got a trauma alert, I could go home, sleep, and spend time with Kahli.

Even if all she did was fight with me, I needed to be near her. To hear her voice, watch how animated she was when she talked about her lab work, eat her tasty food, and be tortured by her petite yet unbelievably tempting body.

Today was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and I’d lost time. The only contact I’d had with the outside world was on Thanksgiving, and after, through Kahli’s texts and phone calls. I didn’t even see her when she came to pick up the car keys, which I’d left for her at the nurses’ station. It made no sense to go home for an hour or two, so I’d showered and bunked in the hospital, and had told her to take the car since I didn’t need it.

Now, I was sitting in an Uber listening to Ed, my driver, curse at the radio as a football team that was clearly losing, and, apparently, costing him some money. I closed my eyes, leaned back, and the next thing I knew, Ed was shouting, “Hey. Doc. Wake up. You’re home.”

I slipped him a decent tip, stumbled out of the car, and made my way up to our apartment where Kahli promised to have a full middle eastern spread waiting for me. I hoped she made falafel. Hers were the best. She’d told me the secret was to add some gigante beans to the chickpeas to give the falafel a richer flavor. I grew up with parents who were terrible cooks, and knew nothing about cuisine. But Kahli’s dad was amazing in the kitchen, and she had inherited that talent from her father, from which I was the beneficiary.

Actually, when it came to Kahli, the benefits were plentiful. She spread her warmth, intelligence, and kindness to everyone in her sphere. I enjoyed being in her sphere, but if I was honest, I wanted to be the center of her universe, not just another satellite.

If I tried to talk to my parents about this—which I’d never do since they adored Kahli and would be pissed at me—they’d encourage me to tell her how I felt about her. They’d also browbeat me for carrying a torch for so long, especially since they knew how much she needed to be loved. Plus, my folks were all about sharing how you felt, and engaging in the free and open expression of emotions.

Frankly, my mother would tell me I was emotionally constipated.

This was my last thought before walking into our apartment where I was hit with the dining room table set like it was a special occasion. There were candles burning, and a bouquet of colorful flowers in a big blue vase in the middle of the table. And the smells coming from the kitchen made my stomach growl.

All that goodness receded to the back of my brain when Kahli came out of the bedroom with her shining hair bouncing around her shoulders. My gaze drifted down to her body-hugging peach sweater, and my mouth went dry at the same time my scrubs got tight. Her short denim skirt showed off her shapely legs, made longer by sexy, strappy high heels, and there was no way she missed my body’s reaction.

“Hey,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling as she walked up to me and laid her hands on my chest. “You must be starving.”

Damn, she smelled good, and I loved the way her hands felt resting against me. And, yeah, I was starving, but my appetite had shifted away from food to other delicacies I’ve been wanting to savor for a long time.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and bent down to whisper in her ear, “Absolutely famished.”

“Good,” she whispered back, her voice raspy. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring out everything.”

I was about to say, “I’ll help,” when her phone started ringing.

“Can you get that?” she asked over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

I picked up her phone from the edge of the counter and saw “Unknown Caller.” I answered anyway, and said, “Who is this?” I’d barely got out the “s” in this when whoever it was hung up.

Intentionally, I took her phone with me to the table. I’d barely sat down and the phone rang again. “Unknown Caller” again. I answered, said, “What,” and the person hung up.

Kal was walking over to the table with a bowl of tabbouleh as she asked, “Who was it?”

“I don’t know. An unknown caller who hung up twice the moment I spoke.”

“Huh.” She shrugged. “Put the phone on silent so we’re not bothered by it. It’s probably some telemarketer, or something like that.” Then she went back to the kitchen and came back out with a huge platter filled with falafel, lots of triangles of pita bread, a bowl of hummus, cut tomatoes, dill cucumber, a small bowl of different kinds of olives mixed in with cubes of feta cheese, and some sliced lemons.

She sat next to me, grabbed my plate and started spooning up tabbouleh when the phone rang again. No, I hadn’t turned it off. I wanted to know what the fuck was going on. “Talk, asshole,” I shouted, and whoever it was paused for a moment before hanging up.

“Really, Jaden. Turn it off. Lissa wouldn’t hang up, and neither would your parents. You’re sitting here, so whoever’s calling isn’t important, or has the wrong number.”

I hated myself for thinking what I was thinking, but I had to ask, “You sure about that?”

She sat back so fast her chair rocked. “Excuse me?”

“Maybe we should see if ‘whoever’ rings again, and if they talk when you answer.”

“You fucking asshole.” She jumped up and pointed at my face. “You think I’m fooling around with someone?” I raised my brows, but before I could answer, she yelled, “You bastard. For days, I’ve been turning myself inside out trying to find ways to soothe you and care for you while you’re imagining me with another man.”

I stood, and she stomped to the middle of the living room, put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “You’re so dense, I have no idea how you navigate life. Haven’t you been paying any attention to me?”

The burn in my blood and roiling in my stomach seemed to be the right noxious brew to release the hold I’d been keeping on my spiraling and pent-up emotions. “How could I do anything but pay attention to you. But every time I try to talk to you, any and every fucking topic turns into a battle. I try to make your life easier. I try to support you and have your back, but nothing I say or do seems to be right.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Why wouldn’t I think you’re interested in someone else. All you do is fight with me, and I have no fuckin’ clue why. Every single day I wonder where your head’s at.”

“Really? You don’t understand why I’m always fighting with you?” She shook her head. “You really are clueless. About everything.” She sighed before saying, “But to be clear, so you absolutely know ‘where my head is at,’ I was eleven and waiting for my family to show up to an important science fair. They didn’t show, and I was freakin’. Then the fair’s almost done and Principal Adler comes walking across the gym, and she had two cops with her. We all went into the coach’s office where I learned a delivery truck slammed into my parents’ car, killing them and injuring Raffie.

“You were there, so you know.” She stabbed her finger at me. “You know how I spent two weeks of my life in the hospital watching my only living family member suffer. And the first thing he did when he was discharged, the first fucking thing he did was make funeral and burial arrangements for our parents. He wouldn’t let you or anyone help him, and he was driving everywhere with one hand ’cause he had a broken arm, and he was using his broken leg, which was stupid and dangerous. You have to remember what a joy it was for us to attend our parents’ double funeral.”

“Kahli, please sit down. You’re—”

“Don’t you dare say I’m too worked up. Especially in that condescending I’m a doctor, I know better tone.”

I closed my eyes and breathed deep as I gestured with my hand for her to continue telling me things I knew in such detail they were tattooed on my brain, heart, and soul.

“Our folks had good life insurance, but it wasn’t enough to keep the house, so Raffie, who was set to graduate high school in another month, at the ripe old age of eighteen, sells our family home, buys us a condo, and asks the Naval Academy to defer his entrance. Then, because he had mad computer skills, he gets the highest paying tech job he can find so he can support me.”

Her chest was heaving, and I can tell she was out of steam. She plopped onto the sofa, and held up her hand with her index finger pointed in a wait a minute gesture. So I waited. Knowing what was coming next, but I had to let her get it all out. Maybe, just maybe, this is the storm that had to happen so we could clear the air and move forward. Together.

“Raffie stopped working and finally entered the Naval Academy only after he knew I got into UCSD. And what does he do when he graduates with honors as a Naval officer? While he’s fulfilling his duty assignment, he’s working everyone he can, and doing everything he can to get into the fuckin’ SEALs. For two years he’s gone way more than he’s home, and last year my beautiful, kind, cool as shit brother got himself killed.”

She looked up at me with tears welling in her eyes. “Every member of my family is dead. Do you honestly think I’d be happy about tying myself to a man who’s looking forward to spending half a year on an aircraft carrier that’s patrolling seas rife with terrorists?”

She must’ve seen me flinch.

“Yeah, Jaden. I know all about Operation Prosperity Guardian and the Houthi-led attacks on ships in the Red Sea. What I don’t know is why you’re so gung-ho to put yourself in the middle of all that. Especially after you browbeat me into marrying you knowing your orders are to go into the middle of a conflict where the terrorists use missiles.”

I opened my mouth to explain that I had no choice, and since it was going to happen anyway, I figured I’d give her space and thought while I was away we could reset our relationship and slowly build it to where we could and should be.

But before I could get a word out, she launched herself from the sofa and jabbed two fingers into my chest as she yelled, “I’m not losing one more person I care about.” Then she stomped away, and slammed the door to the bedroom.

Ah, hell no. We were nowhere near finished with this “conversation.” I tried the doorknob to find she’d locked herself in. Already pissed the fuck off at being lectured about history I knew chapter and verse, while barely admitting feelings I was now sure she had for me, I didn’t think about what I was going to do, I just did it.

I kicked the door open and stormed into the bedroom.