The Light Before Us
Page 35
JACK
I wake up with a clear head, having downed at least three glasses of water last night to get that one glass of whiskey I’d had out of my system.
Natalie is still asleep next to me, and while I’m always anxious for her to wake up so we can talk and do other things, I sometimes just like these quiet moments when she’s asleep, when I can stare at her without her telling me to stop.
I’m beyond lucky to have her, and I never forget it.
Gliding my fingers along her hair and gently pulling it away from her face, I think about how she’d saved my life in both literal and figurative ways over these past three years.
Her kidnapping isn’t something I necessarily like to think about, but it’s a part of our story, something that has strengthened our union. I’d been the one who had gone to save her life those years ago, then been shot in the process. I still can’t remember what it actually felt like to be shot, lost as I was in shock while still determined to stop Will. Even if it were the last thing I was going to do on earth, I wouldn’t let him hurt her. Saving her was the only way I’d succumb and let my body die.
And once I knew for certain he was dead or at least mortally injured, once I’d told Natalie how much I loved her, I knew I couldn’t hang on. I wanted so badly to live for Natalie and our baby, but I’d done the last thing I could do, and then I died.
There had been a light, an overwhelming sense of peace that I have never forgotten. Like I’d just opened up the door to my childhood home, I saw my parents, looking younger than I’d ever seen them, looking like their very best selves. They reached out to me, embracing me, saying everything would be okay and that they loved me. In a way, I felt like a small child again, and I desperately wanted to stay with them, to tell them how much I loved and missed them too, and yet it became suddenly clear I didn’t need words here. They knew what was in my heart.
I can’t remember if they told me to go to her of if I just felt it, that the further into the light I went, I’d find Marjorie.
And through what felt like a blinding, almost scorching light, I did.
The sight of her nearly brought me to my knees, and I felt my body, my soul, my whatever, being pulled to her like a magnet. We embraced, and it felt like home, like I’d just been given back everything I’d lost.
But it wasn’t everything.
Something was missing.
And I couldn’t stay here, not with my parents and not with Marjorie.
“I love her,” I told Marjorie through speech or thoughts—I can’t be sure. “I’m not ready to leave her.”
The part of me that was still tethered to my life on earth expected this to hurt Marjorie. I knew I’d have to find a way to explain, to make her understand that I loved her too, but that I wanted to go back to Natalie.
“I know.” Marjorie’s face glowed, and she reached out to touch my cheek, bringing with it pure love and understanding. “She isn’t ready for you to go either. She still needs you, Jack. And it’s okay. I promise you.”
I remember closing my eyes then and allowing the warmth of whatever came after death to spread through me, for the love of Marjorie and my parents and for people, grandparents, great aunts and uncles and third cousins who had lived and died long before me to encompass me. This was not an easy place to leave, but I did.
A split second later, as if being ripped from a womb, I felt the weight of hands on my chest, of lips on my mouth. I knew instinctively that I was barely clinging to this second chance at life, but I knew I had to fight for her, for Natalie, just as I knew she was fighting for me.
Days later, as I recovered in the hospital, I shared my experience with Natalie. I’d never lost the vividness of what had happened and could share it with full clarity. I can still see Natalie’s eyes widening and the tears falling down her cheeks. After I’d finished, she climbed into the bed next to me, huddling close, wrapping her arms around my chest and my stomach.
“Thank you for coming back,” she said. “Thank you for fighting for me.”
“Always,” I replied.
And then we’d had Leona and named her for my mother.
I’d sold my share of the clinic in Seattle to Lincoln and Louisa and started my own practice here in Meadow Brook. It grew into a clinic big enough to necessitate its own hospital wing.
The foundation and the scholarships continue. Katherine has worked hard to expand the reach, giving us new donors so that we can help even more young people realize their dreams.
It’s a life that is beyond satisfying, a life I am thankful for every single day.
And right now, I’m thankful for my wife’s eyes fluttering open and the way her luscious, kissable lips turn into a smile when she sees me watching her.
“I broke my promise.” She stretches out and glides one of her fingers across my cheek.
“Oh, I know,” I tell her, thinking of last night and how we’d actually both been too tired to do anything but sleep. “But you can make it up to me this morning.”
She puts a hand behind my neck, dragging the fingers of her other down my abdomen and making me so hard I nearly come right then and there.
“Come here,” she tells me, lifting her beautiful ass and bending her knees so I can tug her panties up and over them before sliding them across her ankles.
I gently spread her legs, taking up the space in between and yanking my boxers down to free myself.
“I love you,” I tell her, looking into her gorgeous blue eyes before I plunge in, watching her bite her lip, catch her breath and cry out, her expression betraying her pleasure.
She holds firmly to my shoulders, says, “I love you more,” as I thrust into her, my hands all over the curves of her beautiful body, my lips on her peaked nipples as I bury my face between her breasts.
“Not possible,” I finally tell her after I’ve lifted my head, not able to keep from looking into those eyes of hers that tell me so much.
She wraps her ankles around my legs and glides her fingers down my side. I arch my back, so close, so ready, but not ready to be done with her.
When she comes, I can feel it, the way her body trembles, the way she grabs onto me, her body tightening and then loosening, a wave of pure contentment flashing over her beautiful features.
A few more thrusts, and I’m done for as well, coming hard into her as I grip her one free hand, unable to look away from her as my orgasm surges. We are together there in those minutes, connected and keyed in. Not ready to be finished, I continue dwelling inside of her, brushing her hair away from her forehead and kissing her brows and her eyelashes, her cheeks and her lips.
Between one kiss that has me hardening again, she holds the side of my face, keeping my lips from hers, her eyes serious, yet loving.
“Thank you,” she tells me quietly.
“I should thank you too,” I say, a grin tugging at my lips.
“Thank you for coming back to me,” she says, all seriousness. “You could have stayed with Marjorie and your parents, but you came back for me, and I love you for it.”
I’m already there with her, to the time and place I’d just been thinking about before she awoke.
“Of course I did,” I manage, emotion nearly choking me out as I move my finger across her lips. “Our story is far from over.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you readers! If you enjoyed The Light Before Us, please leave a brief review on Amazon or Goodreads.
Thanks to my family and friends who continue to support my writing dreams!
Other Books by Stephanie Vercier
STANDALONE ROMANCE
The Years Between Us - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071ZV1DW4
THE BASIN LAKE SERIES
This series may be read in series form or as standalone novels.
Between the Boys - Book 1 - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M6W5EHR
Broken by Love - Book 2 - Available Now
&
nbsp; Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N9D9OLN
Between the Girls - Book 3 - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N18N3L8
Unbroken by Love - Book 4 - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071ZBH26R
About the Author
Hey, I’m Stephanie Vercier! I’m a relatively new romance writer living in beautiful Washington State with a husband and a house full of cats! I’ve always loved writing and creating stories in my head, and I’m so grateful for the opportunity to actually put them to paper and work on improving my craft with each story I write.
I’m also an avid reader, wartime romances and mysteries being two of my favorite genres.
Website: http://www.stephanievercier.com/
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