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I lay there wrapped in Jazz’s arms, the rush of the orgasm leaving me breathless and tingling. My breathing was still erratic; every exhalation was a sigh. Jazz's hold on me was secure and gentle, a firm presence grounding me as I relaxed.

The warmth of his skin against mine felt like the only real thing in the world at that moment, a reminder that our connection went beyond the physical. As my heart gradually found its rhythm again, and I nestled closer into his embrace, a sense of peace washed over me. It was as if all the noise of life, the challenges, and the uncertainties were muffled, pushed outside the boundaries of our shared space.

I brushed my lips over Jazz’s chest, feeling his breaths rise and fall.

He gently kissed my head, and I closed my eyes, savoring the affectionate touch. Jazz’s fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm, sending shivers across my skin that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with what we'd done.

We didn’t need words.

Jazz was the other half of me, not just as a lover but deep in my soul, and I wanted to cry that, after all these years, we were together.

We were meant to be.

“It was always you,” I said.

We both chuckled, the sound echoing in the room. A comfortable silence settled over us. It was a perfect, unguarded moment when everything seemed to stand still, and I was so desperately in love with Jazz and needed him so much I could have cried.

We had to clean ourselves off. Would Jazz want to talk? Did he regret any of this?

“I want to do that again,” Jazz joked, his voice still breathless as he smiled and stretched.

I groaned. “I'm not a teenager anymore.” I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him better. “You'll need to give me a minute.”

“A minute?” Jazz raised an eyebrow, his smile turning playful. “Should I take that as a promise for round two?”

“Only if you're up for it,” I teased back, feeling a warmth that had little to do with the physical and everything to do with the man beside me.

“With you? Always.”

Jazz's hand found mine, and his tone grew cautious. “We should probably have the condoms, lube, tests chat, right? Not that you need me to tell you about my tests; I guess you know all about me.” He sounded defensive, and I didn't want him to think I knew things he never wanted me to know.

“Marcus might know because he's the doc here, but your test results aren't public knowledge to all the staff, not even me.”

“Okay.”

“It’s probably a good idea to talk to Marcus anyway, so he knows…we’re… y’know…”

“You’re okay with me telling him?”

“Always.”

He nodded then. “We need to get lube and… “ He stopped, then shimmied off me to one side. “I don't want to hurt you, andyou need to know I don't have nightmares every night, but we should…”

“It's okay. We'll talk,” I finished, and at last, he relaxed. “For now, I just want to hold you.” This was where I wanted to be: scars, soft bellies, and all.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” I answered.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

JAZZ

Yesterday had beenan intense moment that shifted something deep inside, but we hadn’t had a chance to talk since. Alex had been called away shortly after, and the space left by his sudden departure hung between us, filled with my stupid-ass nerves.

Why would he want to be with me?

Is twenty years too long?