Page 34 of Always You

I loved you.

But I don’t love you anymore.

Chapter Seventeen

JAZZ

I lovedyou with everything a teenager could, but I had a path I was following, and I grew up.

The words were out before I grasped their weight. It wasn’t his fault I’d enlisted. Nothing he could have done would have stopped me from pursuing the soldier’s life, a legacy my father and grandfather handed down. It was what I’d always wanted, and for the most part, I’d felt right in that life. That was until I stayed too long, until my mind had become too crowded… until I’d seen too much.

“We both grew up,” I added, gesturing around to emphasize his achievements. “I mean, look at what you’ve accomplished! I always thought you’d end up working for your dad but look at this—how you’re helping people!”

Alex winced and dropped his gaze, tapping one finger on the counter. His discomfort was obvious, and I realized I might have been too enthusiastic in my praise. I didn’t remember him being so averse to attention, but then again, twenty years is a long time.

“A lot of this is thanks to Marcus,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “He found his purpose quicker than I did when we werein college. I lost my way for a while, but Marcus helped me find it again. He dragged me to my first AA meeting.” He rummaged in his pocket and placed an embossed chip between us, turning it so I could read the engraved message:One day at a time.“I’ve had my relapses, messed up more than once, but now… I’m thirteen years sober.”

Addiction was something I’d seen too often in veterans, and in the people on the streets who either protected me or just needed to forget. I had immense respect for anyone who could battle their demons.

“Congratulations,” I said, feeling proud of him. I recalled the few times I’d visited his place back in school, seeing firsthand the intense expectations laid on him by a family obsessed with wealth. “I’m glad you connected with Marcus. He’s a good man.”

That could have been me. I could have been there for him. I should have been there for him, for my wife, for Harper. I shouldn’t have lost my way.

He laughed—a sound tinged with irony—and flipped the coin over his fingers before gripping it. “Marcus was the boyfriend who helped me see what I could do with all that money I didn’t want.”

Boyfriend?That was news to me.

“Boyfriend?”

“Well, yes and no.” He,” he smiled. “We had a few dates, some kissing, but only that. It didn’t stick, and now, he’s more family than my own parents and siblings. That’s easy, though, considering I don’t see any of them anymore.”

“You don’t?” Part of me felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he’d distanced himself from his toxic family.

“They weren’t interested in a son who didn’t want to be part of the family business. But I had my degree, my trust fund, and I wanted to be useful, to be there for people.”

“You must be proud of yourself,” I murmured, unsure of what else to say.

“Sometimes,” he answered with a snort of laughter. “And other times? Not so much.” When he smiled, it reminded me so much of the Alex I had fallen in love with so long ago, free of worries and burdens. It was dangerous to think about those times, considering we’d both moved on, had both grown up. Still, I smiled back at him.

“I get that,” I admitted. My addiction had been to self-sacrifice and duty and look where that had led me.

“I got your letters,” he blurted out, and I blinked, surprised by the shift in conversation. “I’m sorry I never wrote back, but I was… I was a mess, and then, it felt too late, and we weren’t friends anymore. I’d like us to be friends again.”

I stared at him, stunned. Friendship? After everything? Any friend of mine now would have to deal with my mental health issues, my unemployment, my nightmares—all while I tried to rebuild my broken relationships. No one needed that burden. I realized I’d been silent too long when he stood up, pocketing his chip.

“Anyway, I should go. I know you have sessions today.”

“Wait, Alex?—”

He shook his head, cutting me off. “It’s okay, Jazz. I have a meeting at ten.”

I hurried after him as he walked to the office and sat at the computer I’d used. He was offering me friendship, and I’d just stared at him like an idiot.

I rubbed at my chest, feeling a tight knot of regret. “You okay?” Marcus asked, pausing beside me and glancing over his shoulder at Alex.

“Yeah, just… therapy,” I managed, and hurried up to the second floor for the next part of my day before Marcus could ask any more questions.

In therapy, I wasn’t sure if it was the chip, the words, or the offer of friendship from Alex, but for the first time in one of our sessions, words came easier than I thought. We went through the usual questions about how I’d been feeling lately—okay. How I was eating—enough. Whether I was sleeping—some. And whether the nightmares still woke me. That was a harder question to answer.

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