Page 23 of Always You (Guardian Hall #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

JAZZ

I stood outside Alex's office, staring at the closed door and gathering my thoughts. The image of Alex's distress lingered in my mind, urging me to act. After a brief moment of staring like an idiot, I pushed the door open with a quick knock, not waiting for permission to enter.

Alex was at his desk, his head buried in his hands. As I entered, he straightened up, trying to mask his emotions. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away any sign of distress, but I could still see the remnants of tears sparkling in his eyes.

“The kittens are staying for a while,” I announced, trying to keep my voice steady and give Alex a moment to compose himself further. “I need your help with them.”

I lifted the bag to indicate I had some of what I needed, but not everything. “I've got milk and stuff, but I need a box and some blankets to make them a proper bed in my room. Can you help me out?”

Alex nodded; his expression professional as he focused on the task. “Of course,” he replied, “one minute.” He picked up the radio and his phone from his desk and pocketed them both before he ushered me back and locked the door.

His quick acceptance and shift to action eased the tension a little, but I knew we weren't done talking about whatever had upset him so deeply. Once the kittens were settled, I planned to come back to that. For now, though, getting the kittens comfortable was enough to keep us both occupied.

“Is it okay if I keep them in my room?” I asked, unsure whether this would be allowed.

“Sure, just keep them in the room? I'll find a box.” He headed to the kitchen. I went to my room and waited until Alex arrived. I closed the door behind him, then placed the sturdy box he'd found on the floor.

“That should be okay,” he murmured, dropping a blanket next to it, which he curled into a temporary nest.

I fished out the three kittens, tiny little things, and placed them in the nest. Then, we used the other blanket to start making their temporary home and set up the litter box. Each day, they would return to the shelter, but each night, they would stay with me so I could feed them, love them, and be their hero—Abby's words, not mine.

I'm no hero.

“Is it wrong that I named them?”

“No,” Alex said as I picked up the nearest tabby, trying to climb the blanket wall.

“That's Scout.” I gently placed the first, most adventurous kitten into the nest. “Always scouting ahead, you know? Then, there's Mischief,” I continued, pointing to another who was pawing at his brother as soon as his toe beans hit the blanket. “True to his name, always causing trouble.”

“And the third?” Alex asked.

“Rascal,” I chuckled, placing the last kitten next to its siblings. “Seems like he's always up to something sly.”

Alex smiled, watching the kittens settle into the soft blanket. The warmth enveloped them, and they began to calm down. “Good names,” he said.

Together, we arranged the box in a quiet corner of my room, ensuring it was away from any drafts and secluded enough to give them a sense of security. Alex fetched an extra towel and draped it over the side of the box to add more insulation.

As we worked, Alex's desperate emotions seemed to melt away.

“It's strange how something so small can need so much.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “It's a big world out there for such little ones.”

I nodded. “Makes me want to protect them.”

The room was quiet for a moment, and the only sound was soft, steady purring as they explored their new temporary home, then huddled into a kitten pile, Scout yawning.

“Thanks for helping me with this, Alex,” I said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “What are friends for, right? Let me know if you need anything else,” Alex offered as he started to head back to the door.

I didn't want him to leave, and I scrambled to stand, my back sore and my leg aching, but desperate to stop him from going.

“Alex, what happened?” I asked, catching him as his hand reached for the door handle.

His shoulders slumped.

He paused and turned to face me, and his eyes were bright with emotion. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with his words, a rarity for someone who always seemed so composed. “I can't really say,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “Some days are just harder than others.”

Before he could object, I stepped closer and hugged him. Initially surprised, he tensed momentarily but then relaxed into the embrace. I could feel his unsteady and uneven breath as he exhaled slowly. We stood in silence, the world narrowing to just the two of us in that small, enclosed space.

As the moment lingered, a new impulse seized me. Pulling back, I looked into his eyes, noticing the vulnerability and weariness. Without thinking, I cradled his face, my thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. Then, almost instinctively, we drew closer and kissed. A surge of unexpected intensity washed over me; everything funneled into this one kiss.

The kiss deepened, and his hands rested on my waist, tugging me closer, anchoring me to him as if he were afraid I might slip away.

The sensations overwhelmed me—the softness of his lips, the faint stubble of his jaw grazing my skin, and the way his sigh mingled with mine. This was coming home—a raw need and a connection neither of us could deny any longer.

Emotions swirled between us, and beneath that, a simmering tide of affection and care rose to the surface.

The world around us seemed to dissolve, leaving nothing but the space we occupied. The hallway sounds, distant voices, and mundane noises of daily life at Guardian Hall faded into a hazy background hum. It was just us, here and now, the urgency of our kiss forging something new and undeniable.

A sense of rightness filled the hollow spaces within me. After all the paths we'd taken, we were meant to find our way to this point and to each other.

The crackle of the radio in Alex's pocket shattered the moment. Marcus’s voice, checking in, jolted us back to reality.

Alex stepped back, his eyes wide. The earlier vulnerability was replaced by a look of sudden realization and perhaps regret. “I—I have to go,” he stammered, fumbling for the radio. “I need to talk to Marcus.”

I nodded, unable to find suitable words for the moment. “I know,” I said, watching as he quickly composed himself and hurried out of the room.

I expected him to leave then, but he grasped my hand, and I laced our fingers. Something snapped inside me as all the broken pieces of my heart began to shift and touch as if they wanted to close and heal.

“Can I come back… after…?” he asked.

I glanced back at the kittens in their box. “We'll be waiting.”