Colorado Connection (Colorado Heart Book 6) (6 page)

After a while, Doc pulled him to standing and led him to the container he’d shared with Bounder. More tears ripped through him as he stepped in, realizing Bounder would never walk through the door again. He and Doc held each other and that’s where Spike found them. Spike and Doc grabbed clothes for him and led him to the showers, stripping him out of his blood-soaked gear. He washed Jazz’s blood out of his hair, watching it circle down the drain. Pain encased his heart, leaving him unable to think or move.

Doc shut off the water and dried him. Spike helped him get dressed, holding him up when all he wanted to do was fall on the ground and cry. He was taken to medical and told to lie down. Doc hooked him up to an IV and people spoke to him, but he didn’t hear their words. His thoughts tumbled through what had happened in the streets of the shit town they’d been trying to make safe. At some point, they must have given him something to help him sleep or at least pass out. He welcomed the silence that sunk him under, taking away the pain filling his mind and his body, crushing his soul, draining away all of his hope.

Chapter Seven

The first days after the fucking, unit destroying bomb were rough. Matthew felt like bugs were crawling out of his skin, and his brain throbbed so much he couldn’t keep his head up. When he was alert enough to remember, he was inconsolable. He ended up staying in medical for a few days with an IV in his arm and medicine that knocked him out. Three days later, he was cognizant enough to start hunting for Jazz.

He asked the medical personnel tending to him and was told they knew nothing. When Spike came to visit, he made the man promise to find information on Jazz. The hours slipped by, and he was about to go out of his mind, when Spike came in. He’d found Jazz. Jazz had been flown to a hospital in Germany and was being transported to the U.S. later that day.

Matthew weaseled his way to a phone, making promises and pulling in favors so he could call the facility. After what seemed like forever, he was connected with the hospital in Germany.

“I need to speak to Jazz, I mean Jordan Bergeron,” Matthew said as soon as he heard the line connect. “He was brought in—”

“I’m sorry, but he’s not taking calls,” the woman said.

“You have to let me talk to him,” Matthew begged.

“He’s not in a position to speak to anyone.” The woman’s voice sounded incredibly stern.

The words Matthew had planned on saying died on his tongue. “What do you mean, he can’t speak to anyone?”

“I’m looking at his information on the computer, and it says he’s not taking calls. Whether the directive was initiated by the doctor or the patient, I can’t tell you. He’s not taking any calls and he’s in the ICU, probably not able to take any.”

“But they’re transporting him today. I have to talk to him,” Matthew begged, praying there was a way for him to get in contact with Jazz.

“I’m sorry. There isn’t anything I can do,” the woman said.

Matthew felt his heart shatter but spoke before she could hang up. “Wait, can I speak to his doctor?”

“Are you family?”

“I’m in his unit. I was there. I pulled him out of the rubble and carried him to safety. I had his blood in my hair, down my chest, under my fingernails, and on my back. I don’t know if you can get any closer than that.”

The woman cleared her throat, but the silence stretched on. He was getting to her. Maybe he could convince her with more of their story, but what if she wasn’t accepting of gays. Saying Jazz was his lover could either cause her to hang up or get him the golden ticket to talk to someone who could make something happen.

“Please.” Matthew hated begging but he would do almost anything to talk to Jazz.

She blew out a breath, and he felt he was making progress. If only he were in Germany, he could run by the hospital. He needed to see Jazz sooner rather than later.

“Let me see what I can do,” the woman said.

Seconds ticked by after the phone went silent. He waited, praying someone with any knowledge about Jazz would come on the line. More than a minute passed before the phone clicked, and he heard a real person on the other end.

“This is Doctor Naples. I’m sorry, your friend didn’t make it. We did everything we could to save his life. But in situations like this it happens.”

“No,” Matthew whispered as panic and pain twisted through him. Jazz had to live. Matthew had heard Jazz was being transported back to the states. “No, no, he’s alive,” Matthew sputtered.

“Wait, is this about Private First Class Kaufman?”

“No, I’m asking about Lance Corporal Bergeron, Jordan Bergeron.”

“Oh, he can’t talk. We have him sedated. He’s being shipped back to the U.S. in just a bit.”

Matthew drew in a gasping breath. Jazz wasn’t dead. “Can you tell me anything about him?”

“Are you family?” Naples asked.

“I’m the one who pulled his ass out of the rubble.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss medical status with nonfamily members.”

“Is he going to make it? That’s all I want to know. Will he live?”

The doctor cleared his throat, and for a second, Matthew thought the man wasn’t going to answer. “Yes. Now, I need to get back to rounds. I wish you well.” The line disconnected, and Matthew hung up. Somehow, he’d find a way to talk to Jazz.

With Bounder and Slider gone, and Jazz and Jimmy in the hospital, the atmosphere was stilted. Everyone he normally ate meals with was subdued. No one joked or talked much because they were all thinking about the men they’d lost. Baller got in a fight with someone from another unit, which earned him a short-term stay in lockup until he calmed down.

They were falling apart and none of them were ready to go out and patrol the city. Days slid past, and he still hadn’t heard from Jazz. He searched, asked questions, but there wasn’t much he could do until he made it stateside and could physically hunt down Jazz and speak with him.

A few weeks later, orders came in, and he was told he was headed back to the states. Being home meant he could find Jazz. He imagined what it would be like seeing Jazz again. He could hold him, touch him, look in his eyes and feel his love. But for that to happen he had to be an ocean away instead of hanging out here in this wasteland. Jazz was his rock, his stabilizing factor. He loved the guy and couldn’t imagine going on without him.

The days inched by, the hours seeming to last forever. Finally, he was on his way back to the United States. It bugged the crap out of him that Jazz hadn’t communicated with him at all. He had a couple weeks leave and he was going to use one of those weeks to visit Jazz.

It took him a few days to find out which facility Jazz was in. He arranged his leave and booked a flight, hoping Jazz would talk to him. The days of waiting for his trip were painful. He did his work during the day, but the nights were almost impossible to survive. He missed Bounder and Slider, and he ached for Jazz. He wouldn’t have been able to survive if Jazz had died.

The flight to Washington DC seemed to take forever. Once he was on the ground, he headed strait to the hospital treating Jazz. He checked in at the reception desk, excited to see his man. A woman at the front desk called up to Jazz’s room to tell him he had a visitor. Matthew wanted to grab the phone from the woman’s hand and hear Jazz’s voice, but he stayed still, waiting for permission to see Jazz. She frowned, her gaze connecting with Matthew’s. He knew that look and nothing good would come from it.

She hung up the phone and shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but he’s not accepting visitors.”

“Did you tell him who I was?” Matthew asked.

She nodded, her eyes dropping to the desk. “Yes, sir, but he won’t see you.”

Disappointment wove through him, and for a second, he thought about running past security and racing to the elevator. Jazz wanted to see him—he had to want to. Maybe Jazz was just afraid because of all that had happened. Matthew eyed the security guards, knowing he wouldn’t be able to crash the gates. If he tried, he would be banned from the hospital, and that was the last thing he wanted. He turned to leave, but before he got too far he swung around.

“When are visiting hours tomorrow?” Matthew asked.

“Come by at nine, and maybe he’ll see you then. It’s difficult for some of these patients. Sometimes, you just have to wait it out. You aren’t the first one to experience this. I’ve seen best friends and family members turned away over the years. Just give it time.”

After checking into a hotel close to the hospital, he went searching for food. There were a lot of guys with prosthetics walking around with their families. He wished Jazz would have seen him. Once he had his food, Matthew pulled up his email and checked to see if Jazz had replied to any of his notes. He hadn’t.

Matthew wrote out another email as he ate, hoping this time Jazz would respond. With dinner finished, he really had nothing to do so he headed to a movie theater and bought a ticket to a romantic comedy. The latest action thriller with explosions and war was on screen but he didn’t care to see anything that looked like real life for him. When the movie was over, he checked his email, sad Jazz still hadn’t responded.

The bar in the hotel was hopping, but he bypassed it and headed up to bed. He wanted to be refreshed when he saw Jazz the next morning. Before his alarm rang, he was out of bed and in the shower. He dressed carefully, knowing today would be the day he saw Jazz.

When he arrived at the hospital, he went to check in. The same woman was sitting at the desk as the day before. She smiled up at him when he approached.

“Good morning, Matthew, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I would like to see Jordan Bergeron.”

“I’ll ring his room.” She dialed and waited, eventually hanging up the phone. “There wasn’t an answer. I’ll call the nurses’ station in just a few minutes and see if he’s available. He might be doing some tests.”

Matthew nodded, hopeful he’d be seeing Jazz soon. The wait stretched on and after what seemed like forever, the woman came out from around the reception desk and headed straight for him. He stood, excited to see his lover.

“I’m sorry, Matthew, but Jordan said he couldn’t see you again.”

For a second, he felt like he’d been sucker punched. His knees almost buckled, and the woman placed her hand on his arm. “Are you okay, son?”

He shook his head and dropped to the chair he’d been occupying earlier. He stared up at her, his eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t want to see me?”

“Matthew, I’m sorry, but he’s dealing with a lot. Maybe he’ll see you this afternoon. Come back at two, and I’ll see what we can do.”

He’d never been so disappointed in his life. How had it gotten to this point? Jazz was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Matthew walked around town, ate lunch, and was back at the hospital promptly at two. The woman smiled at him, and he caught her name this time, Nancy. He’d picked up a cookie and a cup of coffee for her, handing it over before he asked her to call up to Jazz’s room. Though he’d bought the food for Nancy, it wasn’t a bribe, he was just trying to be nice. Matthew wanted Jazz to ask him up, not to buy his way into see Jazz.

After Nancy hung up the phone, she shook her head. “I’m very sorry, Matthew. I don’t know what to say.”

He sucked in a slow breath and bit his lower lip, nodding as tears filled his eyes. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Thank you for the coffee,” Nancy called after him.

“No problem.”

Matthew headed straight to his hotel and began working on a long letter to Jazz. He spent hours searching for the right words, pouring his heart out as he begged for Jazz to talk to him. The emotions he felt for Jazz were detailed in the letter, and would hopefully make Jazz see there was more to him than a shallow guy who only cared about the physical. Injuries, scars, none of it mattered, only that he was with Jazz.

Once he was satisfied with the words on the screen, he hit send, praying this letter would get through to Jazz. His stomach grumbled and twisted as he realized it was close to nine. He hadn’t eaten and didn’t feel like going out. Instead, he headed down to the bar and took a seat at one of the tables, ordering a burger.

While he waited, he studied the people. Many were military. Most of the guys had female companions. There were a few older couples who were subdued, their voices quiet, their words few. Then he saw a group of guys laughing and having a good time. They all had short hair and were most likely visiting a friend. The desire to see Jazz grew. If only Jazz knew how he felt. He prayed his letter got through to Jazz.

One of the guys in the jovial group kept looking at him, but Matthew ignored his interest. When the guy came over, tapping him on the shoulder, Matthew wasn’t too surprised.

“Mind if I take a seat? I bought you a beer.”

Before meeting Jazz, Matthew would have taken the guy up on his offer. They would go upstairs, undress or not, and have sex. They might kiss, he might cuddle with the guy, but eventually the dude would leave, and he’d be alone again. Now, even though Jazz hadn’t wanted to see him, sex with this stranger—no matter how sexy, built, or entertaining the guy was—wasn’t worth the risk. Matthew wanted Jazz too much to muck it up with another guy.

“I’m taken. I have a boyfriend, but if you want to sit and talk, I’m fine with that. I’m just not willing to do anything more.”

Disappointment was evident on the man’s face, and Matthew almost felt bad for him. He probably didn’t have many gay friends in the service or had worked through most of them already and wanted someone new. The guy shrugged and dropped into a chair and handed Matthew a beer.

“You have a friend at the hospital?” The guy asked.

Matthew nodded. “Yeah, we served together in the Middle East.”

“Injured there?”

He nodded again because what more could he say? Too many young men and women had been blown to bits in a war that was so far away the landscape didn’t look anything like home. It was a foreign land with foreign people and a foreign religion. Bounder and Slider had died over there, their last moments with people who didn’t really know them, fighting a war that had little impact on their family.

“Our friend, Chuck, lost his leg. It’s been hard on all of us. We saw him today. He’s still a wiseass, which I guess is good. How’s your buddy doing?”