Damn right she did. And one day she’d have it. Probably not anytime soon, but someday.
***
“Bullshit!” Brody Nelson slammed his hand down on the dull metal table before him, rattling his commander’s coffee cup and bouncing his pen.
Jeffords settled back in his chair, crossed his arms over his utility-clad chest, and chuckled. “You know, it’s not every day someone gets pissed at me because I tell them they can’t go back to war.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not every day you’ve got a miserable son-of-a-bitch like me, itching to go back either.” Brody shoved a hand back over his hair, the top just long enough to be against regulation, though he wasn’t sure why he gave a shit—the corps apparently didn’t care. “I don’t know why you can’t just push this through. Swap me out with someone who’s got a family...kids. Someone to fucking come home to.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Jeffords slid a form Brody had already seen too many damn times across the table.
“There aren’t many Marines like you, willing to give every last damn breath they have for their country, I’ll give you that. But until the doc says your head’s in the right place, you’re grounded. You know the rules.”
“Fuck the rules. Fuck those quacks, too. I never boohooed to them about anything, so that recommendation is total bullshit.” They both knew it, too. Just like they both knew that this was a red mark on his record he’d never shed. Three fucking tours and this was the thanks he got.
“It’s out of my control, Corporal. I’m sorry.” The commander lifted his hands.
Screw that. Brody pushed away from the table, the legs on the chair screeching against the tiled floor. He stalked to the left and then to the right, his hands locked behind his head. “I might as well just retire then, huh? What else is there left for me to do?”
His higher-up said nothing, just let him pace himself into a frenzy that ended with a fist flying into the wall on his way out the door.
“Take some time off, Nelson,” Jeffords called after him. “Get out of town and take a load off.”
He wanted out of town all right. He wanted the next plane overseas, but that wasn’t gonna happen.
Ooh-fucking-rah.
Chapter One
New Years Eve, Las Vegas
They say that whatever you’re doing at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve is a sign of what’s to come for the next twelve months.
If that was true, then Jenny was screwed. And not in the fun and breathless way either. Nope, she was screwed in the pathetic, just dumped kind of way she should have seen coming.
What was worse, only hours earlier she’d watched her best friend marry the love of her life. Proof that sometimes casual on-again, off-again flings actually turned into something more. Like she’d thought—hoped—might be the case for her and Reed.
She closed her eyes and chased away the mental image of the man she’d already given too much of her time. Tonight, she wiped the slate clean. No more Reed and no more gone-at-dawn hook-ups. Just her and her salon and her future, wherever that took her.
Definitely no men for a good, long time.
“You sure you’re okay on your own tonight?” Ally stuffed the last of her toiletries into a bag and handed it off to Mark, her new husband, who waited by the bedroom door of the suite Jenny and Ally had shared the past two days. Tonight was Ally’s wedding night, so of course she’d spend it with Mark. Just like she would every night for the rest of her life.
Damn, this sucked.
Jenny dropped her chin to her chest and willed the tears to stay away. Don’t ruin the most romantic night of your bestie’s life by crying like a baby.
“Hey...”Ally’s fingers grazed her arm and her voice softened to a near whisper, so Mark wouldn’t hear. “Are you that happy for me or is this about Reed, the dumbass?”
Half-snort and half-laughing, Jenny met her friend’s eyes with a smile. “Would you believe me if I said I’m just anxious for you to get out of my room so I can break out the hottie I’ve got stuffed in the closet?”
Ally nodded eagerly, her red hair dancing along her shoulders, left bare by her pretty, ivory wedding gown. “I would totally believe that. Hell, I hope it’s true.”
Sneaking men in and out of your life is what landed you single at twenty-eight, Jenn. Tsk-tsk.
Stupid conscience. Jenny shook her head and gave Ally a gentle push toward the door and her husband. “Get out of here. Go do nasty, deplorable things with your man. And take notes, because I expect details when we’re back home.”
Her friend tossed a saucy grin across the room and Mark returned it with an eye-fuck of his own. Totally disgusting, but they were married now, so they could get away with it.
“Have a good flight tomorrow. I’ll call you Tuesday as soon as we land.” Ally wrapped her up in a bear hug, holding on for a few extra seconds before she let go. “You know, Mark’s friends are still here, too. I’m pretty sure Sean would be happy to buy you a few drinks at the bar.”
Drinks, yes. Sean, no. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes reminded her a little too much of a certain ex-fling back in River Bend and she’d already made up her mind—no more energy wasted on guys who only wanted sex. She was worth more than that, dammit.
“Nah, I think I’ll just kick back here and enjoy one last bubble bath in that big tub.” She waggled her eyebrows and saw Ally and Mark out the door. After another round of congratulatory hugs, she said goodnight and watched her friends walk away, looking more in love than seemed fair.
She would not be jealous. She wouldn’t. Her friends had fought hard to make their relationship work and they deserved every good thing that came their way. Most of all each other and the baby Ally already carried.
But as Jenny closed the door behind them, the walls of the suite began to close in around her. Her pulse beat a little faster and, despite her best efforts to breathe, her lungs started to burn. She wasn’t just alone now—she was alone in every sense of the word.
No way could she stay in this monstrosity of a room all by herself. Sleep would taunt her and her stupid brain would try to dwell on all the ways her life should be different. All the things she could’ve done—and could’ve not done—to bring her to this very humbling, very terrifying moment.
She needed a drink. Maybe three.
Too bad it was already after ten o’clock and the New Year’s festivities would be in full swing. Couples would be crawling all over each other and she’d probably hate herself a little more.
Ahh, screw it. At least she wouldn’t be alone.
***
“The Marine Corps can suck my cock.” Brody tossed back a shot of Jameson, hissed with the burn, and then motioned for the pretty bartender to refill the glass.
“You don’t mean that, man.” On the stool beside him, Sam Conrad shook his head. Of course, the stupid bastard would try and talk him out of his anger—he hadn’t been screwed over by some bullshit panel of shrinks who’d never seen a deployment.
“Yeah, I do and I promise you this—they won’t push me out. If I go, it’s because I decide it’s time, not because some assholes who don’t know shit about me think I’m fucked in the head.” He downed the second shot—his fourth in the last hour—and went to work on his beer. PTSD, his ass. He knew what he’d done on his previous tours, and he’d do it all over again in a friggin’ heartbeat. Except the part where they’d lost Ernie and Troy. That he could do without.
“They’re not gonna cut you loose. It ain’t like that.” Sam’s words trailed off as a trio of women—one in red, one in white, and one in blue—passed behind them on their way to a table in the corner. His friend shot him a ‘you game?’ grin, but the last thing Brody needed tonight was yet another reminder that his service to those colors was currently in question.