Page 2 of Make You Love Me
Josie? The beeping sound coming from the machine to my right picks up speed with that little doozie of a question.
“Yes,” the second man says. “She’s on her way. Should be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? It doesn’t take that long to get here from New York. She too busy to be bothered?”
No. She just hates cars.
“Apparently, she’s taking the train.”
Ha. Sounds like her. Dire emergency? No problem. One ticket for the slowest possible transportation, please.
“The train? You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”
Ahh. Sergeant Montgomery. Should have recognized that broody magnificence from the years I spent hearing it day and night. The man’s resumé for Jordan Jones rescues is both extensive and impressive. But even after adding this instance to the column of relevant hero experience, the list pales in comparison to the fifteen years he’s dedicated in service to his country.
“I could have picked her up and brought her back quicker than that,” Sergeant Montgomery continues, his trademark crankiness at an all-time high.
“Still can,” the second man deadpans. I can only assume he’s the doctor on call with the unfortunate duty of dealing with my self-appointed security guard.
Sergeant lets out a long sigh and stalks across the room, his rubber-soled boots sounding more like steel on the soft linoleum floor with each sharp step.
I’d love to measure the deep line between his eyes to know just how serious my situation is. But I can’t open my eyes or there’s something covering them, keeping me in the dark. I’m glad my ears are working, though, even if there is an annoying ringing sound accompanying the world around me. Maybe I’ll also be able to move or speak soon to let everyone know I’m still me inside this shell of a body. Since I can’t, at least the incessant beeping on the heart monitor is enough to tell them and me that I’m alive.
“I don’t want to leave him.” Another sigh from Sergeant. “I’ll stay until she arrives.”
Oh, shit. If I could, I’d beg Sergeant not to leave me here alone with her. At least until she calms down, and I can defend myself. Josie is the only family I have left, and although she’s only two years older, she sure acts like a fiery mother hen when someone or something threatens my wellbeing.
It took over a month to convince her that my joining the military would be a good thing…not a death sentence. That I’d have an entire unit of brothers to fill in for her while we were apart. She even came with me to talk to the recruiter to see for herself. God, she’s the best. She loves like no one else, and I wouldn’t be the man I am today without her.
But I’m not looking forward to the lecture she’s surely crafting on the way here. I already know what she’s going to say. Carsare dangerous. She doesn’t trust me with a golf cart, much less a bullet on wheels with 1960s technology and safety standards. I’m too reckless, too trusting, too fearless.
So, yeah. I’ll be hearing plenty about all the dangers of the world and how my shortcomings exacerbate them all. I just hope I’ve slipped back into unconsciousness before she gets here.
???
Something’s wrong. It’s as if I’m lying on a bed of smoldering embers, my skin blending into the fiery heat. My screams are silent, lost in the inferno. When I force my eyes open, there’s only a void that swallows everything. Flames overwhelm my senses, reducing me to ashes carried away by the wind.
???
“I don’t know what to do. After this last episode, I’m barely hanging on.” Josie’s voice is muffled by the ringing in my ears, but I can hear her. Is she here? Why isn’t she in New York? Where am I?
I open my eyes to darkness, except there’s a small light on my left. It moves as no light should and a glow trail shines after it like a shooting star. I blink hard to clear my vision and the glow disappears. The outline of her face appears. She’s holding a cellphone in front of her, knees pulled up to her chest.
“I’ve started looking for an apartment. Mom and Dad’s house isn’t livable.” She pauses, listening through earbuds to the other person. Is she moving to Virginia? Why is she renting an apartment here?
“No. Jordan wanted to fix it up and maybe he will one day.” Her voice sounds unsure, hoarse, and weary, and I wonder why.She’s always so cheerful—the quintessential, carefree artist who can see the good in everything. She’s pure, unbridled sunshine in a tiny package. The same feeling you get from looking at her paintings. But she’s none of those things at this moment.
“Yeah, right,” she says, and her scoff keeps my eyelids from closing. She’s pissed, and it’s not my fault this time. Well, at least until she realizes I’m eavesdropping. She mentions the asshole she lives with, and it all comes together.
“Ryder wouldn’t know a hammer from a screwdriver if his life depended on it. But it doesn’t matter, we broke up.”
Hallelujah.
“Or rather, he said my choices were bringing him down, and he wanted his freedom back.”
Ass.
“Yeah. He enjoyed throwing his infidelity in my face. I hate what brought me home, but I’m grateful for the excuse to leave. I’m better off without him. We were too different for it to work.”
