Come To Me | Jerrie

Chapter 20

I'm spent.

Completely and totally useless.

I'm lying against her chest, still unable to catch my breath. She runs her fingers lightly against my back before shifting me to go clean up. I groan and stretch as my muscles loosen from the aftermath of our intense sex session. The tightness reminds me of the obstacle course and how much my body ached afterward. But this is the kind of physical workout I welcome.

Jade returns and flops on her stomach, giving me a view of her perfect ass. She really is magnificent. I kind of want to pinch myself—surely this can't be real. She turns her head toward me with a smile and I place my hand on her back. I've never gotten a good look at the art on her shoulder. It's really remarkable, so intricate, and has so many different parts to it. In the center are the bones of a frog. Its body wraps around from the front of her shoulder and ends with the head facing down on her back. In the frog's hands is the trident of Poseidon, only the three spears of the trident aren't spears, they're names. Willam, Alaska, and Courtney are written in an elegant script and the number four serves as the handle. It's surrounded by black tribal ink. My finger grazes the frog and the labyrinth of tribal markings around it. Below it is the most beautiful quote.

We have this hope as an anchor for our soul, firm and secure. – Hebrews 6:19

It's profound and speaks to my heart. There's meaning behind each word. Hope is something we all have, and it's often the only thing we can grasp when our world is shattering. I hoped for my father to return. I hoped for Zayn to be faithful. Neither of those things happened, but that hope is what kept me going every day.

Jade rolls and faces me with sad eyes, so different from just moments ago. I reach up, placing my hand on her heart, and she pulls me in, close enough so I can see the front of the tattoo. "What does your tattoo mean?" I feel her tense.

"It's the tattoo you get when you lose someone on the team," she says matter-of-factly.

"Is that the loss you've mentioned?"

"Some," she replies and laces her fingers with mine, holding our clasped hands between us.

I want to push her to tell me. I want her to share with me—more like I want her to want to tell me. I'm just not sure I should try to force it.

"Why a frog?" My curiosity gets the best of me. I don't understand some of her world.

"SEALs are referred to as Frogmen." She smiles and squeezes my hand gently. Her eyes are warm and she continues on, "I got that tattoo to remember my three friends who died on a mission."

My heart swells that she's opening up, but aches for the pain of her loss. "I'm so sorry."

She removes her hand from mine and wraps her arm around my middle. I scoot closer and return her hug, placing a small kiss on her chest. My mind begins to wander as the silence persists. Do I push again?

Jade takes a deep breath and begins to speak. Her voice is low, pain threading through her words. "It's my fault."

Pulling back, I look in her eyes. The agony there is evident. "What's your fault?"

Jade struggles to hide her emotions, but I watch each one play like a movie—sadness, anger, guilt, hatred—before her expression goes void. "Their deaths—I was in charge of the mission."

"Jade, I doubt that," I say softly, hoping she'll hear the disbelief in my voice.

She tugs me back against her chest. I'm not sure if she's done talking or if she wants to hide from me. Giving her what she's silently requesting, I wrap my arm around her and stay quiet.