Forever
Forever
By Kindle Alexander
Forever
Copyright © Kindle Alexander, 2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Edited by Jae Ashley
Edited by Pam Ebeler
www.jaeashley.com
Cover art by Reese Dante
http://www.reesedante.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the content is a model.
ISBN Print: 978-1-941450-32-1
ISBN ebook: 978-1-941450-31-4
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Kindle Alexander LLC, kindle@kindlealexander.com. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Kindle Alexander, LLC. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author's rights and livelihood is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Acura: Honda Giken Kogyo Kabushiki Kaisha (Honda Motor Co., LTD)
Advil: Wyeth, LLC
Amazon: Amazon Technologies, Inc.
Aston Martin: Aston Martin Lagonda Limited Company
Audi R8 Coupe: Audi Aktiengesellschaft Corporation
Bud Light: Anheuser-Busch, Incorporated
Cadillac CTS-V Coupe: General Motors LLC
Captain America: Marvel Characters, Inc.
Disney and Frozen: Disney Enterprises, Inc.
Emily Post: The Emily Post Institute, Inc.
GQ: Advanced Magazine Publishers, Inc.
Hilton: HLT Domestic IP LLC
H&M: H & M Hennes & Mauritz AB
Kawasaki Ninja: Kawasaki Jukogyo Kabushiki Kaisha
Ken and Barbie: Mattel, Inc.
Lamaze: Lamaze International, Inc.
La-Z-Boy: La-Z-Boy, Inc.
Mack Truck: Mack Trucks, Inc.
Motrin: Johnson & Johnson Corporation
Nordstrom: NIHC, Inc.
Patrón: Patrón Spirits International AG
Reddit: Reddit, Inc.
Skype: Skype Corporation
Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation
Styrofoam: The Dow Chemical Company
The Walking Dead: AMC Film Holdings LLC
Uber: Uber Technologies, Inc.
Vogue: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.
Williams-Sonoma: Williams-Sonoma, Inc.
YouTube: Google, Inc.
Wayne's World
Max Steele
Grand Theft Auto
Echo Show
Amazon Alexa
Sony Productions
QuickBooks
Star Wars Solo
J.Crew
The National Culinary Review
Barney’s
Dedication
Kindle, you’re forever in our hearts.
Perry, you’re missed every day.
Daddy, you’re the best father a daughter could have.
Janett Gomez.
Note from Author
Creative license was taken with this story. It’s a work of fiction.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
A Special Thanks
We’d like to give a special thank you to the brilliant and talented, Author Kris Michaels. In crafting our stories, we go to great lengths to research the lives of our characters. Landon’s specific military career as outlined in Always became a complication. Although we took a few liberties, Kris Michaels, who retired from the United States Air Force, spent weeks, maybe months with us to ensure Landon’s character was as Air Force authentic as possible. We appreciate her time so much, and Landon loves her. He was worried we’d get it wrong.
About Kris Michaels
USA Today and Amazon Bestselling Author, Kris Michaels is the alter ego of a happily married wife and mother. She writes romance, usually with characters from military and law enforcement backgrounds.
Kris was born and raised in South Dakota. She graduated many years ago from a high school class consisting of 13 students (yes that is thirteen, eleven girls and two boys...lucky boys). She joined the military, met her husband, and traveled the world. Today she lives on the Gulf Coast and writes full time.
Kris is an avid people watcher and dreamer. The stories she writes are crafted around the hopes and dreams of a true romantic. She believes love is essential, people are beautiful, and everyone deserves a happy ending.
When she isn't writing Kris enjoys a full life revolving around family, friends, laughing, whiskey, and cold red wine. (Yes cold...don't judge.)
Find more about Kris Michaels here.
Chapter 1
July 2014—Landstuhl, Germany
“Damn, Doc! You’re a machine. You’ve gotta be exhausted.”
Robert Adams glanced from reading the chart in his hand to the tall blond nurse who had come to a stop beside him. He’d met the guy weeks ago and had seen him around the hospital dozens of times since. Robert winced internally. If he hadn’t become such a self-absorbed ass and been the better person he was raised to be, he’d have made it a point to remember the man’s name. This was just another reminder of how he hadn’t even tried to fit in socially with the hospital staff.
If he’d learned anything from the past eight or so months, self-beratement didn’t help adjust his rotten attitude. Robert had given up on any hope of absolution and had let this funky, fucked-up mood consume his entire life.
Yet another thing his fathers would have been disappointed in him for.
“I think that’s preaching to the choir,” he said, giving up on the guy’s name but remembering the nurse was always around the hospital too. For the past month, Robert had been placed on limited duty at the Landstuhl Regional Military Hospital in Germany. From the janitorial staff all the way to the top brass, the whole team seemed to have a great respect for one another. They were solid professionals who genuinely got along, and they had had no problem welcoming Robert—a civilian—into their circle with open arms. He’d been the one to purposefully keep his distance.
Another point in the hospital staff’s favor was that not one person had referenced either one of his fathers. They offered no awkward condolences on their untimely deaths. There was no talk of his dad, Avery Adams, being a great patriot of their country or the loss of his other father, his daddy, Kane Adams, so quickly after Avery’s death. Robert didn’t have to listen to all the ridiculous theories of soul mates—a perfect love intertwined with a connection so deep that death couldn’t break his fathers’ bond. Here at LRMC, Robert was just a man immersing himself in work.
The scalpel hadn’t felt right in his hand for a good while now, and he refused to jeopardize any surgical patient until it did again. After pulling political strings to gain special permission, he’d come to LRMC in merely a support capacity. He took every shift offered in order to keep his plate so full there wasn’t time to dwell on what had happened in his personal life. Especially his responsibility in his beloved daddy’s sudden decline and ultimate death. Pain lanced his heart so sharply it forced the air from his lungs as the weight of what he’d done sat heavily on his chest. And just like that, the overwhelming feeling returned, threatening to drag him under.
He’d heard time eased loss, and perhaps it might, but he doubted the guilt would ever fade. If he’d done things differently, he wouldn’t be here in Germany chasing mystical signs, search
ing for anything to give purpose to his pain. Robert scrubbed a hand down his face.
“You okay, buddy?” the nurse asked, interrupting his pity party.
Robert glanced over, surprised to see the man still standing beside him. Apparently, this depression he fought robbed him of any reasonable thought. How could he move forward when his head and heart couldn’t get past how badly he’d handled things?
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired. I’m doing rounds then heading out.” Forcing a grin, Robert tried for upbeat, hoping to hide the pain silently drowning him. And it seemed to work. The nurse gave an easy nod, accepting his answer.
“I’m on duty tonight. Let me know what you need.” The guy squeezed his shoulder then gave him a reassuring pat on the back before leaving Robert standing there alone.
“Right,” he muttered and forced himself back to the patient chart in his hand, refusing to wallow in the murky pit of regret that the conversation had stirred. He stared at the notes, not remembering a single thing he’d read from just moments ago. He had to do better.
“Fuck my life!” Landon Russo bit the words out in complete frustration, letting the paperback in his hand drop to his chest in surrender. In every possible way, he was totally screwed. Being trapped in this hospital bed for days on end had taken its toll. He was antsy and bored lying there, staring at a dingy ceiling that had certainly seen better days.
He’d seen better days too.
Honestly, if he’d planned to go down in a blaze of glory, at least his injuries could have happened in a more honorable way. Of course, he didn’t have that kind of luck. Even his supposedly stupidly high IQ hadn’t helped override his general cockiness.
Somehow, Landon had allowed his dumbass buddies to goad him into playing chicken with an old abandoned tower. The tall structure had been built a few years after the military base opened in 1953 and had been abandoned long ago. It had no use today other than the fact it had become a distraction from boredom and offered bragging rights to the ones brave enough to accept the challenge. They had boasted it to be a rite of passage, playing a game of double dare with the old wooden structure known as The Tower, or Der Turm as they called it there. Hell, the name alone—so ominous sounding—had caused him to want to climb the thing. Fueled by the fact that he’d never been one to pass up a dare, Landon had somehow agreed with their fearless stupidity. In hindsight, his agreement might have had more to do with the alcohol coursing through his blood than anything else. What a dumbass move on his part.
His moment of glory sure as hell had bit him on the ass. He had an arm filled with pins and screws holding it together and a deeply bruised body as his reward for being the bravest of his squadron. He’d scrambled his way to the top of the old rotting tower. The fucked-up part? Even now, he had a small amount of pride in the fact he had made it all the way up those rickety old steps as far as they went before climbing the rest of the way on a decaying wood ladder. Landon had proudly carved his name alongside those of the other brave soldiers who had conquered the tower before him.
Heights had never been a fear for him. And even drunk, he’d had no issue climbing so high. The complication came from the hard, unforgiving earth below—German dirt had no give, and the pain radiating through his bones was a testament to that fact.
Lying on this hospital bed, Landon still refused to take full responsibility for the situation. Maybe he was being arrogant, maybe he wasn’t. One thing he knew for certain, though, was that he wouldn’t be laid up in the hospital if the guys hadn’t feared disciplinary action by calling for help. After carving his name at the top, he’d made it about halfway down when the steps gave out underneath his weight. His instincts automatically kicked in and he’d grabbed onto a somewhat sturdy support beam. He had dangled there for a good long time waiting to be saved. His buddies had fucked it all up. Helpless bunch of pansy-asses. Every last one of them had tried to be the hero and climbed up after him.
He shook his head as memories of that night flooded his thoughts. Of course, the old decayed structure couldn’t hold all their combined weight and shimmied and shook as they attempted to ascend the structure. He’d tried to stop them, but they’d ignored his warnings. The beam he was hanging on snapped. He swore he hit every single board holding that tower together on his way down. How he’d been the one to hit the ground first was beyond him, but somehow those dumb motherfuckers had even found a way to use his body to break their falls.
Idiots. And he was supposed to trust his life to those men? Only a few days had passed since the accident. Irritation with the whole incident still burrowed deep under his skin. Now, instead of him walking away with a reprimand, he was stuck in the hospital, feeling helpless, hurting like a motherfucker, and to add insult to injury, they were all going to be disciplined anyway.
He wasn’t sure what bothered him the most, the multiple injuries that were going to require extensive physical therapy to get him back on his feet or the fact he literally couldn’t wipe his own ass without help. He guessed neither of those superseded his bruised ego. These things didn’t happen to Landon Russo. He always found a way to land on his feet, but not this time.
He clenched his jaw in frustration and tightened his hold on the paperback weighing on his chest—the same book he couldn’t quite manage to turn the pages of in order to read. This was seriously some fucked-up shit. What he wouldn’t give for a distraction.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Adams.”
From the first syllable uttered, Landon knew exactly who the voice belonged to, which was damn odd because he’d never expected to hear it again, especially not in a German military hospital thousands of miles away from the United States. That deep rich timbre had been imprinted on his heart almost a year ago while performing an honor that would remain in the forefront of his memories for the rest of his life.
When Landon glanced toward the door, his gaze locked on Dr. Robert Adams, world renowned heart surgeon and son of a United States vice president.
The doctor stood about six foot two, thick blond hair, and just as handsome as Landon remembered. He scanned the man’s face and his heart began to race as his stomach filled with uncertainty. As much as Landon admired Vice President Adams, he could find no good reason for Dr. Robert Adams to be standing in front of him right now. The smile that had automatically lifted the corners of his mouth, fell as he wondered if the heart surgeon’s presence indicated something far worse about his condition. How much damage had the fall caused?
He quickly ticked off his known injuries, trying to remember a mention of anything remotely close to a heart complication. They said surgery had gone well. His arm would require healing time and some intensive physical therapy, but he’d been told he was lucky he hadn’t been hurt worse. He could expect a full recovery. What hadn’t they told him?
The blood pumping through his veins was the only sound he could hear as he watched Dr. Adams’s mouth move. His fist tightened around the paperback still on his chest as he interrupted whatever the doctor was saying, “Just give it to me straight.”
Wait. If he did have some untold heart problem, he certainly didn’t rank high enough on the food chain for someone of Dr. Adams’s caliber to fly here and look after him. He wasn’t even a military doctor.
It still took a second to rein in his runaway imagination. Judging from the look on Dr. Adams’s face, he was still processing Landon’s sudden outburst.
“Give you what straight?” Dr. Adams asked, crossing his arms over his chest, a small spark of amusement lighting his eyes.
Well hell, now Landon didn’t want to answer that question. He’d jumped to conclusions, a stupid side effect of being confined to a hospital bed for so many days, but he was still completely confused. He figured it was best to just keep quiet. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. Silence filled the next few seconds. Neither man looked away from the other.
Landon noticed the fine lines of worry and the deep look of exhaustion etched on Dr. Adams’s face. The lines deepened when the doctor furrowed his brow. Landon knew that look—he himself had worn it many times throughout the years.