Page 43 of Always You

“I know,” Alex breathed, his forehead resting against mine. “But it feels right. It feels likeus.”

And it did. The kiss had unlocked something within us, a floodgate of emotions we’d both been guarding. I wanted more, wanted everything this connection promised. The warmth of his body against mine felt like a balm after all the years of coldness and isolation.

“Stay a little longer?” I asked, unwilling to let go.

Alex nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he took my hand. “For a little while longer.”

As we sat back down, the weight of the world outside seemed less daunting, and I think we could have sat there for the longest time, but a sharp knock was enough to have me shuffling away from him.

Alex rose to answer it, and I followed, curious but still a little dazed from the kiss.

It was Marcus at the door, holding a phone to his ear, his expression serious. “Alarm said you were in here, and I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, hanging up as we approached. “But Abby’s asking for help at the rescue center. A box has been left there.”

Without hesitation, Alex nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, looking at me and asking if I was coming along.

Together, we pulled on coats and headed to the shelter, walking briskly through the chilly air, the urgency giving us little time to dwell on what had just happened between us. As we arrived at the shelter, Abby greeted us with a grimace, pointing to a small cardboard box under a heat lamp in the corner.

“They were just left here,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration and sadness.

Peering into the box, I saw three kittens nestled among tattered blankets. They were so small, their fur matted, and their eyes barely open. They couldn’t have been more than a month old, their tiny bodies trembling under the artificial warmth of the lamp.

“How can anyone just leave them?” I murmured, the sight tugging at my heartstrings.

Abby shook her head, her eyes sad as she adjusted the lamp to give more warmth. “Some people find that animals just don’t fit into their lives,” she said. Her voice was low, her statement carrying a weight that resonated deeper than just the plight of abandoned pets. “They discard them, thinking it’s easier than making room or changing their lives.”

Her words hit close to home. I knew how it felt to be discarded, like an inconvenient piece of someone else’s life puzzle. But then, Alex’s hand found mine, his grip firm and reassuring. I looked up to meet his eyes, finding sympathy and understanding.

“It’s not the same with you, Jazz,” Alex said as if he’d read my thoughts. “You’re not alone, not anymore. These little ones won’t be either. We’re here for them, and I’m here for you.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand back, grateful for his presence and its silent promise. Together, we helped Abby set up a more permanent spot for the kittens, arranging food and water and discussing their immediate care needs.

And when Alex said he had to return to Guardian Hall, I stayed with the kittens, and he smiled as he left.

And he squeezed my hand.

It was everything.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Alex

When I returnedto Guardian Hall, my thoughts were heavy and conflicted. I couldn’t help but wish I had stayed longer at the shelter with Jazz. The image of him wrapping the tiny, shivering kittens against his chest, tucking them beneath his shirt nestled in a soft blanket, lingered—a moment of pure tenderness.

Despite the warmth of that memory, I knew it wasn't my role to hover and smother him with my presence. Jazz needed space to grow and thrive on his own terms, not just under my watchful, often overly concerned gaze. So, I walked straight to the office, determined to refocus on my responsibilities.

Marcus was already at work, engrossed in listing supplies needed for the upcoming weeks. He didn't acknowledge me as I entered, allowing me a moment to collect my thoughts and school my features into something resembling professional neutrality.

However, deep down, I knew what I felt was far from professional or neutral. The same love I'd discovered for Jazz in our teenage years still burned bright within me, undimmed bytime or distance. It had never truly gone away; it had merely been waiting, patient, and persistent. I daydreamed, envisioning a life where Jazz worked at Guardian Hall, perhaps even alongside me or at the shelter full-time.

But I had to shake those dangerous thoughts from my head. It was Jazz's life, and he needed to be the master of his destiny, not tethered to my silent hopes and unspoken dreams.

Marcus’s sharp eyes caught the tail end of my wistful expression. “What’s with that look on your face? All sappy and stupid,” he teased, but there was a keen edge of insight behind his light words.

Caught off guard, I tried to deflect with humor. “Just thinking about kittens left at the shelter and their chances,” I replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from more personal revelations.

“Kittens? Well, shit. Are they doing okay?”

I grinned, thinking of Jazz holding them. “They will be.” I sat at the desk and shuffled some papers, but Marcus wasn't easily put off. He leaned back in his chair, pen tapping against the desk, and gave me a knowing look.

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