A Love For Always

by Victoria Paige

  Now with his gaze at street level, he realized what a spectacular crowd their skydive from the fifth floor of the Roman Loft building attracted. Shit. His face was going to be all over social media. Hopefully, the neck brace would distort his looks a little.

  He couldn’t find Sylvie.

  “Sylvs,” he called again, his breathing getting fractured. “My woman. Ambulance.”

  The EMT nodded and looked around. “She got stopped by a cop. We can’t have her in the ambulance with you.”

  “Why the fuck not?” Nate growled and winced again.

  “Man, you need to calm the fuck down,” the EMT admonished. “You fell five stories. Luckily, you landed on a car; otherwise they’d be mopping you off the pavement. You don’t appear to have any spinal injuries, but we’re not sure if you have internal bleeding. So we need you to let us do our job. Heaven forbid that something happens between here and the hospital, and if we have to work on you quickly, the last thing we want is your woman to be hysterical. Do you understand?”

  It made sense.

  “Yeah,” Nate said.

  The EMT nodded to his partner as they both loaded Nate into the waiting emergency vehicle.

  His eyes drooped and he tried to fight it, but the adrenalin was wearing off. He was crashing fast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sylvie sat anxiously in the emergency waiting room. Travis was leaning against the wall right beside her, arms across his chest, head bowed, staring at the floor. There was no information yet on Nate’s condition, but he was going to be okay, right? He had to be okay. Sylvie would never make it without him. She would survive, but her life and happiness would be over. She knew this without a doubt. He was the love of her life. A love for all time, never dimming, always there, steadfast and strong. She would love him forever.

  He had to be okay. Scenarios had raced through her head as she ran down the steps of the loft. He could be paralyzed, he may never walk again, but Sylvie was so giddy he was alive, she’d take him any way she could. She had always known she loved Nate deeply, but it was only today she realized with how much depth she truly loved him. And she tried to say the words when he asked her, but she was so choked by the enormity of her feelings, she couldn’t articulate the words clearly. She exhaled a shuddering breath.

  A hand landed on her shoulder. She glanced up into Travis’s set face. His slate blue eyes were resolute. “He’s a tough son of a bitch, Sylvie. You saw him. He was arguing with the EMT. He’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll take him any way I can.”

  Travis squeezed her shoulder. “I know you would, but you won’t have to. Nate’s as hardheaded as they come. He won’t let a five-story drop sideline him for long.”

  Sylvie winced at the reminder of his fall. In fact, she felt queasy.

  “Ahhh . . . Shit. Sorry.” Travis grimaced.

  Just then, the emergency room doors slid open and a whole group came through. Nana, Mom, the admiral, Sam, and Beatrice. When the group spotted them at the corner, they hurried over.

  “Oh, child,” Nana said in a hushed voice.

  Sylvie got up and threw her arms around her grandma. Her mother hugged them both as the Buchanan women drew their strength from each other. Nana pulled away and clasped Sylvie’s face in both palms. “Listen to me, Sylvie. Nate will be okay.”

  “I know he will, Nana.” Sylvie was surprised how conviction resonated in her voice. She looked around her. The collective support from everyone really went a long way in keeping a positive perspective.

  “Sylvie . . .”

  Everyone turned toward the gruff, low voice.

  Her heart stopped as the crowd around her parted and revealed Nate.

  He was in a wheelchair with a splint on his left calf. His face was pinched and pale, but otherwise, he didn’t exhibit any outward signs of serious injury.

  “Nate!” Sylvie pushed past everyone and rushed to his side. She gently threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him lightly. He remained stiff, but it was understandable.

  “We’re still running tests,” the nurse pushing his wheelchair said. She was rather tall, around fifty years old with a stern, no-nonsense face. “There was a long line for the MRI, and I got tired of Mr. Reece’s pissy attitude.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sylvie felt the need to apologize.

  “They were taking too damned long,” Nate muttered. “I wanted to see you.”

  Travis and the others formed a half circle in front of his wheelchair.

  “We don’t give special treatment unless you’re in critical condition, and since you’re here arguing with me, Mr. Reece, I would say you’re far from dying,” the nurse retorted.

  “What’s wrong with your leg?” Travis asked.

  “Broken tibia,” Nate said glumly. He grabbed Sylvie’s hands. “They’re keeping me overnight. Will you stay with me?”

  “Of course I will,” Sylvie exclaimed. She noted the nurse’s annoyed expression. “But now you need to go back with Nurse—” she looked at the nameplate “—Grace. She’s been patient enough with you, and I for one, suggest not to piss her off or she’ll subject you to less comfortable tests like a prostate exam.”

  Everyone muffled their laughter; Beatrice snorted.

  Nate tried to chuckle, but winced. Instead, a wry grin curled his lips, although the look in his eyes told her everything. He didn’t want to be separated from her even for a second.

  “I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?” Sylvie murmured, leaning in and giving him another light kiss. “I promise.”

  Nate nodded and exhaled deeply. “Okay, I’m good.”

  “Well, thank the Lord for small favors,” the nurse quipped, shooting Sylvie a grateful look, and wheeling Nate back into the emergency room.

  *****

  “Would you stop playing that over and over?”

  Travis had the lone video captured of Nate and Shelby crashing on the roof of the parked Toyota Camry on repeat. He’d been trying to analyze how they’d survived the fall.

  “You guys must have hit that roof at forty miles per hour.”

  “Seriously, bro, stop playing that shit; it’s making me sick.” Nate wasn’t kidding. He was trying not to throw up. The neurological exam ruled out concussion, but him puking his guts out might be misconstrued as either, and he was trying to get through tonight so he’d be cleared to go home tomorrow. Three broken ribs, a broken tibia, and bruises everywhere—crutches were going to suck, and he’d be damned before they put him in a wheelchair. He vetoed the IV drip of morphine and opted for pills instead. This wasn’t the worst situation he’d found himself in before. Try rolling down the steep mountains of Pakistan, tearing up your knee, getting a concussion, and almost bleeding out from a knife wound. All with no comfy medical care nearby. Damn straight he could take this.

  If Travis would just stop replaying the fucking video.

  Sighing heavily, Nate glanced at the door.

  Still looking at the screen of his laptop, Travis said, “For the last time, I told you she walked Nana and Pru out.”

  “She’s been gone a while,” Nate muttered.

  “Maybe she went to get coffee. After all, she drew the short straw and chose to stay with your sorry ass tonight.”

  Nate glared at his friend. “What’s going on with The Jackal Pack?”

  Travis shut the laptop and cocked a hip against the hospital bed. “Out of our jurisdiction. AGS is handing them to the FBI and the Department of Justice at this point. There are a couple of international unsolved cases that were attributed to them. Mostly industrial espionage.”

  “And Harold Tisdale?”

  “Last I heard, they’re picking him up. You know Sylvie might have to testify if he gets prosecuted.”

  “He’s not getting away with what he did,” Nate said, keeping his voice low because his ribs were killing him. Fuck, it hurts to breathe.

  “Maybe you should get some rest,” Travis said thoughtfully. “Sure you don’t want t
he drip?”

  Nate shook his head then looked at the door again.

  When he glanced back at Travis, he saw the wry grin on his friend’s face. “You were one badass motherfucker today, Reece. Damned fearless. I watched the whole thing go down. You knew the odds of toppling over with Shelby were high when you made that leap for Sylvie—”

  “Wouldn’t you have done the same for Cat?”

  Travis’s jaw hardened. “Absolutely.”

  “So, your point?”

  “It’s okay to have fear.”

  “Man, it hurts to talk, so get to the point.”

  “You’re laid up in here, feeling fucking helpless. She’s been taken from you one too many times, and it’s making you uneasy. Fear. That’s what you’re feeling right now. But you have us, man. You have the team to watch out for her. You caught BSI at a bad time when you started things up with Sylvie, but now we’ve got men off rotation, and I’ve assigned them to her until this mess with Harold Tisdale, her father, and The Jackal Pack is settled. We have your back, Nate. Just like you had mine when I messed up so many times with Cat.”

  Nate inclined his head in gratitude. He knew he could count on Travis, but hearing him throwing down behind Sylvie sure calmed his nerves in a big way. “You’re right. Never felt like such a pussy before.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Travis muttered. “You’d pull a lion’s tail if you had the chance. I knew back in high school you spelled trouble when I tried to drag you out from a gang beating over a girl.”

  Nate couldn’t help it, a chuckle escaped him. “You have to remind me of that. We got our asses handed to us, didn’t we?”

  “You were a nutcase,” Travis grinned. “Hope Sylvie straightens you out some. Fear is a good thing sometimes, Nate.”

  “I can’t live without her,” Nate stated simply.

  His friend nodded in understanding. “I get that. Boy, do I get that.”

  Silence fell between them. Travis zoned out somewhere, while Nate continued thinking about the events that happened today. He could have lost Sylvie; he could have died. The two seconds it took him to fall five stories were the longest two seconds of his life. Life was fragile, and there was no time to waste.

  The door cracked open and Sylvie walked in with a holder of coffee.

  “The coffee sucks in this hospital. I had the admiral drive me to the cute coffee shop at the corner before he took Nana and Pru home.”

  “You walked back to the hospital by yourself?” Nate’s brows drew together.

  “Chill, Nate.” His woman set the coffee on the bedside table and wagged a finger between the two of them. “I know you guys put someone on me. Ben wouldn’t have let me walk back by myself and neither would Mom and Nana. He introduced the new guy. I got coffee for you, Travis.” Sylvie handed him a cup. “Obviously, none for you, Nate.”

  “Thanks,” Travis said. “This should keep me going after this long-ass day. Cat’s at home with Abi, but said she’d love to see you tomorrow if you’re up to it, Nate. Are you sure they’ll let you go home in the morning?”

  “No, but I’m sure I can count on you to spring me out,” Nate mumbled. Now that Sylvie was back, he felt the meds kicking in, and his eyes were getting heavy.

  “Not sure I’d want to go up against Nurse Grace.” Travis chuckled. “That woman is scary.”

  “Haha, Nurse Grace loves me, you know—” A yawn escaped him.

  “Must be the meds talking. He’s down for the count for sure.” Travis laughed, and although Nate had the urge to correct him, he was indeed fighting to stay awake.

  “Hmm . . . I thought I heard him quite alert before I came through the door,” Sylvie said.

  “Uh-huh, he sure knows how to make a girl feel special.”

  “Fuug off . . . Blake.” Damn, what did the nurse give him?

  “Yup, slurring. Guess I better get going. Have a good night, Sylvie. Night, sleeping beauty.”

  “Fuuuu . . .”

  Blessed oblivion.

  Sylvie thought she heard Nate mutter, but he just shifted slightly in bed and continued sleeping. It was almost 2:00 a.m. She was going to wake him to check on him and then go to sleep herself. She’d been feeling wired earlier even without the coffee. She set down her magazine and stood up. Leaning over, she touched his arm and gave him a nudge.

  “Nate?”

  Nothing. He didn’t stir. He didn’t twitch.

  Deciding against waking him up just yet, she sat back on her chair and scooted closer. The guardrails were down, so she propped her elbows on the bed, resting her chin on the back of her hands, staring up at his sleeping form. There were words she wanted to tell him, so maybe she could rehearse them while he was asleep.

  “The idea of losing you? Raw unbearable pain in my heart, baby,” she never called him that before, but it came out easily right now. “Those few seconds I thought you were gone for good, were a few seconds too many in my lifetime. If there was anything this day proved, it’s that I won’t make it without you, Nate. I do not regret the years it took for us to get to this point, because it only made us stronger, but I refuse to live another day without you. This is our time, Nate. You asked me earlier to tell you I love you, and I couldn’t tell you clearly. It’s not because I didn’t feel the words, but it was because I felt them too much that my emotions overwhelmed my ability to say them.” Sylvie inhaled deeply before declaring, “I love you so much, Nathan Reece. I—”

  “About fucking time.”

  His eyes cracked open a little as a faint grin curved his lips.

  “Why you—” Sylvie sputtered. “Were you faking sleep?”

  “Since you tried to wake me up—yes.” His grin widened and his eyes were half open, and damn him for looking so sexy even laid up and beaten down.

  “So you heard every word?” Sylvie asked softly.

  “Every word, babe.”

  “And?”

  “And if you don’t come over here and give me a kiss, I ain’t saying it back.”

  The teasing had returned to his voice. Her Nate was back.

  So she leaned over and did as she was told.

  And he whispered the words that mattered.

  *****

  Three weeks later.

  If there was one thing Nate loved as much as being buried deep inside his woman, it was the taste of her coming on his mouth. He growled roughly and gripped her harder around her legs. Sylvie was sitting on his face, gripping the headboard as he licked every drop of liquid heat that exploded from her pussy.

  “Nate, your ribs,” Sylvie gasped as she ground her swollen core against his marauding lips. He sucked her clit in response, sending renewed tremors through her body. Fuck, the taste of her, the smell of her, he could never get enough.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” Sylvie moaned. She cried out and bucked before she turned boneless and slumped against the headboard. She quickly disengaged her legs and fell beside him.

  “I’m not done,” Nate muttered.

  “Well, I had to get off—”

  “I know you did,” he smirked.

  Sylvie scrambled to her knees and smacked him on the shoulder. “I mean off you before I collapsed backward and—Nate!” He quickly did an ab curl and dragged her on top to straddle him and—

  Oh, fuck, that probably wasn’t a good idea. His ribs were healing well, but not to the extent of manhandling Sylvie in bed just yet. Served him right. His raging hard-on deflated as he crashed back against the pillows, jaw tightening at the sharp jab to the sides.

  He tried his best not to make a sound and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the pain, but a tortured groan escaped him anyway. Sylvie didn’t coddle him, but she got pissed every time he’d been reckless with himself.

  “See! Serves you right.” Her words echoed his own sentiment. Sylvie’s weight left him to resume her position by his side.

  He opened one eye. Her eyes were blazing with irritation and worry.

  “A little sympathy here,” he whined
. He was joking of course, because it was just a transient pain and had dulled to mere uncomfortable spasms by now. He sure didn’t want to ruin this evening by pissing off his woman.

  Nana and Pru left for Richmond earlier today and tonight was the first evening they truly had for themselves in weeks. Sylvie had cooked a delicious dinner of baked scallops in cream and melty cheese—some French Saint Jacks dish. A nice change from the classic American fare Nana had been cooking. Not that Nate was complaining. He’d better watch it though. He wasn’t as active as he used to be. The last thing he wanted was to develop a paunch at the end of eight weeks when the cast came off. But he had always been an active man. He doubted he’d wait that long before hitting the gym again. His ribs should be healed in the next two weeks, and he would be lifting weights soon. The crutches right now were giving him killer triceps, and his upper body was definitely getting a workout.

  “What are you smiling about?” Sylvie snapped.

  Killer triceps.

  “Dinner was delicious.” Nate decided complimenting her on her cooking was a good distraction for his earlier recklessness.

  “What?” She looked totally confused with his off tangent remark.

  “Babe . . . That cock whatever Saint Jacks was the shit.” He was pretty sure he butchered the French dish’s name.

  “Coquilles St. Jacques, silly.” Sylvie laughed, all traces of worry and ire dissolving from her face. She proceeded to talk about the preparation of the dish and the tweaks she did to the original recipe. Nate listened with fondness. Though he understood probably only half of what she said about food, the animated way she talked about her craft was adorable . . . and admirable. That was one of the things he loved about her. Passion. His firecracker.

  He leaned over the edge of the bed—carefully this time—and tagged his boxer briefs from the floor. It didn’t look like his dick was seeing any action tonight, but this actually turned out better. Nate scooted up the bed and leaned against the headboard, continuing to watch Sylvie talk about the importance of the right type of cheese for the dish. Damn, he was getting hungry again just hearing her talk, but now that his eyes had zeroed in on her lips, he was imagining it doing something else and another kind of hunger reared up and so did his cock.