Loved You Always

by Natalina Reis

  After we had settled into a nice, private booth and ordered our drinks, we sat back to finally relax for a while. It had been an intense few weeks, to say the least.

  Detective Jarvas bent slightly over the table and looked Jem in the eye. “So, I’ve talked to a few people in the department and I managed to find you the best therapist money can buy,” he said. Surprise made me snap my head up. What was he talking about? “Since you were in some way screwed by the system, the department is willing to waive the fees. Dr. Lehy works with cops who have gone through some traumatic experiences.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, my hand shooting up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Jem was the one who explained. “I’ve been having trouble, so the detective offered to find me some help.” He looked almost apologetic. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “No need to apologize.” I held his hand. “I’m glad you did. I was worried.” I turned to the policeman. “Thank you so much, Detective. For everything.”

  Jarvas shook his head and smiled. “Which leads me to the next question,” he said, his eyebrows arching up. “What was that kiss in the court hallway all about?”

  I must have turned beet red, but Jem just laughed, slid an arm over my shoulders, and pulled me to him. “Just a demonstration of what we will be doing—a lot—in the foreseeable future.” And his luscious lips met mine again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  __________

  Mended Hearts

  This could not be happening. I tried to wiggle off the blindfold that covered my eyes, but my hands, tied behind my back, didn’t cooperate. I could feel Jem beside me doing the same thing, and I drew some comfort from the heat of his body being thrown against mine every time the car negotiated a curve.

  “This is ridiculous,” I yelled, raving mad. “Let us go.”

  “Shut up or I will gag you,” the voice said from the front seat. “It was bad enough I had to tie your hands to stop you from messing with your blindfolds. Don’t make it any more difficult.” I growled under my breath and, giving up trying to free myself, sat back against Jem’s side.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered. He had been going to therapy now for a week or so, but I still worried he wasn’t doing well.

  “Never better,” he said. Was he being sarcastic, or did he mean it? It was hard to tell without looking into his face as he said it. Body language was all-important.

  “Well, I’m sick of this,” I said, unable to contain my irritation. I got another warning from the front seat.

  The car stopped finally, and I heard doors open and close and then open again.

  “All right, get out,” we heard. “We’re here.”

  We were pulled out of the car and our hands untied. When I finally was able to remove the blindfold, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It didn’t seem to belong there—a small, toasted-yellow cottage in the middle of the woods.

  “What is this place? Hansel and Gretel’s cottage?” I asked to hide my shock.

  Celia came behind me to untie the black scarf she had used for a blindfold, now hanging from my neck. “Do you like it?” she asked.

  Like was not remotely a good word to describe what I felt at that moment. The cottage was adorable, straight out of a fairy tale or a travel brochure. The woods where it hid from modern life were gorgeous and lush. “How did you find this place?”

  “A friend of my mom bought it some years ago. She uses it for retreats with her writer friends,” Marcy replied, her bright red lips in stark contrast with her ivory skin. “I asked if I could use it for a good cause, and when I told her your story, she gave me the keys.”

  Jem shook his head and looked at me. “What story did you tell her exactly?” he asked.

  “You know, your love story.” She looked so innocent; if I hadn’t known better I would’ve believed her. I gave her a piercing look. “All right. I also told her about the kidnappings and all. You may end up in one of her books.”

  Celia stepped in. “The point is that we wanted to give you both a couple days away from all the madness.” She laid her head on my shoulder. “Time for you guys to reconnect and….” Her naughty smile was back on. “Maybe make me a nephew or niece?”

  I slapped the back of her head. “Knucklehead! We just got back together and you’re already making baby shower plans?”

  “Help me, Jem,” she cried, running into his arms. Laughing, he welcomed her into a bear hug. “He’s so much nicer than you, Emily.”

  We all went inside and I was in awe of how beautifully simple the cottage was, with its sparse vintage furniture, fresh flowers in every corner, and lacy curtains in every window. It was as if we had stepped into a different world.

  “We’re going to leave you now,” Celia announced after we all had shared a nice cup of coffee.

  “You’re taking the car?” I asked, a little worried about being left without transportation.

  “Of course. We can’t very well walk home, can we?” my smart-aleck sister said.

  I crossed my arms in what Celia liked to call my “teacher’s stance.” “Marcy is a witch. Can’t you just fly out on her broom?”

  Celia cackled like a true witch. “Very funny. We will leave you here carless so you can really connect. You have a phone for emergencies.” She waved at us and grabbed her purse to leave. “We’re just a half hour out.”

  Jem frowned. “But it took over an hour to get here,” he said, leaning against my back. My insides turned to liquid.

  Marcy had also picked up her gigantic purse. “That’s because we drove around to make it seem farther than it is,” she explained, handing me the house keys. “Let’s go, Celia. Let the lovebirds roost.”

  The girls drove away as we watched them from the beautiful little front step. As soon as they had vanished around the bend, Jem pulled me to him and nuzzled my neck. Tiny bursts of electricity went through me as his lips touched my skin, and his fingers crawled slowly underneath my shirt.

  “I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve earned this,” he said in my ear.

  We so had earned this. When we were younger I used to say that life with Jem was an adventure. He had sure proved me right for the last few weeks.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, suddenly shy. Until this moment we had been around other people. There were the cops at first, then friends and family. Never a true moment alone. Here we were truly on our own, just Jem and me.

  My best friend’s blue eyes latched on mine. “I am famished.” His voice had dropped to a sexy whisper. “But not for food.”

  Before I could respond, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it into one of the bushes lining the small driveway. My heart began beating like a drum, deafening me. The color of his chest looked a lot more normal than it had in a while, but streaks of yellowish bruises still crossed his pectoral and abdominal muscles, and some of the wounds had begun to heal into angry reddish scars.

  I reached out to touch them. Jem followed my fingers with his eyes, allowing me to explore the damaged skin, shivering a little in the cool air. He then stripped me of my shirt. With a big aerial arch, it dropped on another nearby bush. I couldn’t move because my legs had turned to mush. With a little flourish, Jem turned me around and I felt his fingers on my back. Deftly he unhooked my bra, slid it off my arms, and dropped it on the ground. I felt the crisp air caress my bare breasts and shivered with excitement.

  Jem stepped closer, until his chest was touching my back. His hands skated around my ribs to cup my breasts. A moan escaped me as his lips nibbled on my ear, and his hands performed their magic. In a moment of hysterical confusion, I was in awe at how well my breasts fit in his hands. We did fit well together, as if we had been made for each other.

  Turning me around again, Jem crushed his lips on mine, and the world ceased to exist. I lost myself in the taste of him, the warmth of his tongue playing with mine, the rousing feel of his fingers on my back. “Let’s go inside,” he said against my lips
. “I want to strip you of every piece of clothing and every lingering doubt you may still have about my love.”

  We stumbled against the door and then into the house, all the way to the bedroom across the small hallway. My hands had taken on a life of their own and latched on to the waistband of his pants, struggling with the button.

  “Damn! I can’t unbutton this,” I exclaimed, frustrated.

  Jem laughed and came to my rescue. In a fraction of a moment we were standing in the center of the room watching each other strip. I would never get tired of looking at my Jem. I loved watching him as a teenager, and I loved it even better as an adult. This time I made the first move. I stepped forward and brushed my hands from his collarbone, all the way down his chest, his belly muscles, and lower. He groaned and moved closer. I could feel him respond, and I trembled in anticipation.

  I squealed a little in surprise and delight when he swooped me off the floor to carry me to the bed. Jem lowered me gently onto it and then slid along my body, tantalizingly slow. His skin rubbing against mine made me quiver like a leaf in the summer breeze. I wrapped my legs around him, an urgent need to have him inside of me taking over.

  With my hands pressing and guiding him, I made him perfectly aware of my intentions. He moaned into my neck, and with a thrust we became one. I swear I saw and heard fireworks. It was both a thrill ride and the most relaxing, soothing thing I had ever felt. We belonged together. If I had had any doubts before that moment, I had none left now.

  We moved together in a sensual dance, a crescendo of sensation leading to an epic explosion. Breathless and sated, we held each other for a while, not wanting to break our bond. I kissed him, stroking his lips with my tongue until he responded in kind.

  “I love you,” I said, against his lips. “Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?”

  Jem nibbled on my lower lip. “Because young people are dumb,” he said with a chuckle. “I was definitely seriously dumb. Dumber than a doorknob.”

  The room had gotten darker, and I realized night was falling. I rolled the two of us so I was now on top of him, straddling him and with my hands flat on his scarred chest. “A very hot dummy,” I said, my hands gently exploring each scar, each fading bruise. “I still get mad when I see these.”

  A sad smile erupted on his lips. “It will be okay,” he whispered, not offering anything else.

  “We never talked about it,” I ventured, chancing a glance at him. “I was very scared, Jem. For me, but especially for you. After I saw what they did to you, I knew they would keep on doing it until they killed you.” My voice had taken on a desperate tone.

  As if by mutual agreement, we sat up, leaning against the headboard side by side, my head resting on his shoulder, his hand casually lying on my thigh. “I was scared, too, Emily Rose,” he finally said. “I put up a strong face—what I had left of one, anyway—but inside I was terrified. I still have nightmares, but the therapist has really helped me deal with it.”

  I pulled him closer against my side, my hand sliding across his waist to curl around his other hip. “It must have been horrifying. I can’t even imagine.”

  “The pain was brutal but….” He paused, looking for the right words to express his feelings. “It was the feeling of helplessness that really got me. When you’re being beaten to a pulp and you can’t do anything about it… you just feel hopeless and helpless. And then later, you hate yourself because you were weak.”

  My head popped up to look into his eyes. “You were not weak, Jem. There were two of them—giants, they were—and only one of you.”

  Jem hung his head a little. “I know, but you still feel weak. You wonder if maybe there was something you could have done to prevent it, to fight back.”

  It was the first time he’d been willing to talk about it with me. I realized that it was a big moment, a defining moment in our relationship.

  “And I was so scared they were going to hurt you,” he continued, caressing my cheek. “They threatened to do all kinds of things to you if I wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t cooperate because I knew nothing, but they wouldn’t believe me. They just wouldn’t believe me.”

  He was shaking against me. I pulled the sheets and blankets over us even though I knew he wasn’t shivering from the cold. “It’s over, Jem.”

  A broad smile stretched across his lips. “It is. And I have you now,” he said. “It was all worth it in the end.”

  “You know.” I brushed a finger across his chest. “You didn’t have to get pulverized to get me. You had me at hello again.” I batted my eyelashes in a poor imitation of the classic Hollywood starlets. He laughed.

  “What are you talking about? You almost killed me with your laser looks when we met at the coffee shop,” he said, a finger tilting my chin up slightly. “You do have the most delicious lips I have ever tasted.” As if to demonstrate what he meant, Jem lowered his lips to mine in a long, leisurely kiss.

  A hot tingle coursed through my body. “Shit. You’ve got to stop doing that to me,” I said when we pulled apart, his deep ocean eyes burrowing into my soul.

  “Doing what?” Jem asked as his hand brushed its way down to my breast.

  “That!” I uttered, breathless. “That thing you do with your lips, and your hands… and your eyes. Shit, Jem. I’m so in love with you.” Totally, 100 percent, overwhelmingly in love with my best friend.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  __________

  Love and Confetti

  “I don’t need that, Marcy,” I said, raising my voice to a level I normally used when my students were getting too loud. “I’m fine. Jem is fine.”

  My little witch friend was standing in front of me, her hand on her hip, looking as eccentric as always. A small green vial peeked through her fingers, her hand extended toward me. “But you guys went through so much. You need something to help you get over it.”

  “I’m fine, Marcy. I really am.” I brushed my hand over my face. “And Jem is seeing a therapist. We don’t need another potion.”

  Marcy didn’t seem convinced. Her hair, redder than usual—or maybe it was just the way the light was hitting it—glowed like a flame, and her teeth bit the corner of her lips.

  “It won’t hurt to try it,” she said. I was not so sure. Marcy’s potions, even though surprisingly effective, were also a bit on the weird side. I hated to admit I was a little scared of them. She stretched her hand in my direction, trying to hand me the vial.

  I grabbed it with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll take it. But I’m not promising anything.” She smiled at me with a look that told me she just knew I was going to swallow that green goo. I hated when people seemed to know me better than I did. “Is Celia coming?”

  We were sitting in our usual booth in the coffee house. Jem was on one of his visits to the therapist and Celia was missing in action. I’d thought she was coming with her witch friend, but she never showed up.

  “She said she would meet us here,” Marcy said, her polka-dot bow sliding a little down her forehead. She raised her hand to adjust it. “How does it feel to be back at work?”

  The scent of the coffee in my hands was comforting. “Weird,” I confessed. “But the kids seemed happy to see me. They have been well-behaved beyond my expectations. I think they missed me.” I giggled, remembering how shocked I had been at the unusual good behavior coming from my fifth graders. With spring now in full bloom, what I liked to call the hormonal kick normally started to drive every fifth grade teacher insane. However, my students seemed immune to it this year. I was fully expecting the madness to start at any time.

  Marcy smoothed some imaginary wrinkles of her bright pink blouse. “And how are things with the hot one?” Never one to mince words.

  “Everything is going well,” I said. And none of your business, missy. “Are you seeing anybody?” I was curious. I had never seen her with any males. She was pretty in her own quirky way, and it was surprising she didn’t seem to have a love interest. “I have never seen you with anybody
.”

  “I haven’t dated in a while,” she said, staring at her bright pink nails. “I go on dates, but I’m not actually dating anyone. Why? Do you know someone as hot as Jem?”

  I ignored the comment and took another sip. “I think you should try and find someone to share your life with.” That way, maybe you’ll stay out of other people’s affairs. “Ever heard of online dating?”

  “Too many creeps out there.”

  I couldn’t find fault on that. I would so not date online, but so many people did it with great success. Or so they told me.

  “Well, my two favorite girls in the world,” Celia said, popping around the booth suddenly. She seemed chirpier than usual, and that just raised all my red flags. “Move over, red rover.”

  With a little shuffle of my bottom half, I made room for her in the booth. “Why are you so happy? Got a promotion or something?” It was the something that really worried me. Always the schemer, Celia was not to be trusted.

  “It’s sunny outside.” It was not. “And life is great. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

  “Because normally at this time of day—right between meals, and after a night shift at the hospital—you are crankier than an ornery old man.” Lack of food and sleep always sent my sister into the pits of crankiness. When we were kids, I always kept some snacks around just in case.

  “Not true! I’m just high on life. My sister is safe and in love with my friend. All is well with the world.” Celia had this beatific expression that didn’t go with her personality. I laughed. “What’s so funny?”

  “All you need is a halo and we’ll have St. Celia drinking coffee with us,” I said, choking on my coffee. “See what you do to me?”

  With nowhere special to go and in good company, we talked for a while and slurped down coffee drinks like they were going out of style. Thankfully, caffeine did not affect me as it did most people, so I could drink quite a large amount of coffee without acting like Daffy Duck on amphetamines.