Page 2 of Emily’s Moments (Shorts #3)

Emily’s POV

I listened to the doctors as they told me, ‘There’s a very real possibility that he won’t survive this,’ and ‘his injuries were severe’.

It was like reliving the nightmare. The difference was the man and his injuries.

This man would fight to come back to me, the daughters he’d adopted in his heart.

He would never willingly leave me. He’d never leave them, all of us.

This man loved me. This man promised me an eternity.

He couldn’t leave me yet. I haven’t had long enough with him; we haven’t had long enough.

We hadn’t finished our bucket list yet. His injuries were also not as severe as Alex’s had been.

Jefferson’s worst injury is his head wound and spinal injury.

Those were the two biggest worries for him right now.

Once he was given a room in the ICU, I set up my little corner.

I got an extra set of sheets to put over the reclining chair that was in the room.

I called the girls and asked them to bring me three changes of clothes, his pillow, two of his shirts, and two of my thick blankets, which the grandkids made for us.

I wanted to make sure that he had a little bit of us in his hospital room with him.

And, since my son-in-law, Beckam, called someone, I had been told I was allowed to stay with him around the clock if I wished.

I assumed favors were traded or something of the sort.

I called our family from the ICU waiting room while I was waiting for him to get settled.

The girls said that either one of them or someone from the club would be stopping by every day, bringing me food and anything else I needed, and they promised to be up as soon as they got someone to watch my grandbabies.

I felt the tears coming. I didn’t realize how much all of these people cared about my Jefferson, about us.

We had always been included in everything the girls and the club did, but we didn’t know it ran this deep.

That they would take care of us in the hospital when he was fighting for his life.

I wished I could tell Jefferson that I could talk to him, that he would open his eyes and look at me again.

He would be thrilled, probably hoping I would finally agree to let him ‘try out’ for the club so he could finally convince me to get him a motorcycle.

I refocused on the conversation with the girls, and I filled them in on what happened, what his injuries were, and told them it didn’t look good, but we were staying positive.

I wanted to wait a little bit before we make any decisions.

I wanted to see how he did first. I was insistent on being there when the doctors rounded, for every round.

I wanted to be just as hands-on in his care and recovery.

He was my husband, my person, the greatest love of my life.

I could not live without him. He brought me back to life, and brought life back to me, if that made any kind of sense.

I felt like I was living some kind of life with Stormi and Raven, my girls, and their kiddos.

But it wasn’t full. It was a half-life of sorts.

But once he came into my life? It was like colors were brighter, the sun felt warmer, the rustle of the leaves, and even my laughter seemed to come with more ease and peace.

He introduced me to love and life in a way I never thought possible.

He introduced me to good food, dancing, cooking together, and so much more. He was my North Star, my guiding light.

I sat next to Jefferson’s bed, holding his hand and stroking his knuckles. He looked pale, sickly, with dark circles under his eyes that had not been there before. His large hands that always held mine, that held me, were cold and limp. I was pulled into the memory of the first time he kissed me.

*Flashback*

We were in his office late one night, just talking about the things that were happening in our lives, after working out the new contract between us and getting my will updated.

I knew I wanted him to be my lawyer again.

Because he was fantastic. Professionally, of course.

We’d ordered takeout and had two small containers on his desk where we had finished up the contract.

Two containers on the coffee table where we were relaxing, and four containers on the conference table where the bag was sitting, sauce packets and prepackaged throw-away utensils scattered across the table.

There were egg rolls and a few soy sauce packets on the coffee table, next to an extra fortune cookie.

I was slowly walking, moseying was more like it, around his office, looking through his shelves of books, waiting for him to finish a call so we could get back to the will.

I was trying to add Raven, Ryder, and Stormi, along with her two kids, in case something was to suddenly and unexpectedly happen to me, and I wanted my family taken care of.

I was only forty-seven years old, but you never knew when it was your time to go.

My late husband proved that when he died suddenly twelve years ago.

Tomorrow was never promised.

I was running my fingers over the spines of his law books on just about every possible legal subject matter.

The man was smart, damn near genius level.

And handsome. Devilishly so. He had that sexy, salt and pepper, more salt than pepper hair, with a chiseled jawline.

Sometimes, when he was busy with something and I was hoping he wouldn’t catch me, I would let myself get lost in staring at him.

I watched the way his giant bear-paw hands and slender fingers typed on his computer and took notes.

I loved watching his eyes, dark and intense.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he took great pride in his appearance and how he was perceived by others.

He worked out, or at the very least tried to maintain a healthy lifestyle.

He’d always been a very fit, handsome man.

There was a line that I didn’t want to cross, because it could get messy, and I had flirted with that line all too often.

That line of professionalism versus more.

I was depressed as hell after Alex died, and the aftermath of the drama that occurred at his funeral.

The fucking asshole. Jefferson had been my lawyer then, and I’d always thought he was wonderful.

And that line now? After all this time? It scared me.

That was enough for me. I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and started taking classes at my local gym, made friends there, got myself into therapy, switched career paths, and here I was today.

Thriving. I had much better mental health, which helps me maintain much better physical health, too.

It was all a circle. I thought about this man, the one talking on the phone, all too often over the years, as I moved on and healed from Alex.

I thought about all the things I wanted to do with and to him, and things I wanted him to do with and to me.

I shuddered, pausing in my movements around his office.

It felt like there was someone right behind me.

“Sorry that took so long,” the incredibly sexy voice said, just behind my head, his breath brushing the back of my neck.

It sent another delicious, nostril-flare-inducing shiver through me, my eyes closed and toes curdled thinking about what it would sound like if that voice was ordering me around.

That deep timber and southern drawl that just said, ‘Yes Ma’am’ while also saying, ‘You don’t cum til I tell you to, because you’re a good girl, right? ’

Both versions of him made me wet at the thought.

I turned my head slightly. His face was right there, right behind me, inches from me.

I turned and looked from his eyes to his lips, taking a step back and bumping into his bookshelf.

His eyes were glued to my mouth, making me subconsciously, maybe consciously, but probably not, lick my lips and pull my bottom lip through my teeth as I stood there, trapped between him and the bookcase.

“Fuck it.” He growled as he grabbed my face with both hands, pressing into me, pushing me back against the bookcase.

His lips descended on mine, stealing my breath.

He kissed me while one hand traveled to the back of my neck and the other traveled to his waist. My hands fisted the sides of his work shirt, thoroughly wrinkling the garment as I tried to pull him as close to me as I could get him.

Pulling back, he bit my bottom lip, making me whimper as it slid from between his teeth.

It had been much too long. I was a mess.

And he’d only kissed me. Oh…God…

“I don’t think that’s enough for me. But you’re my client. I can’t.” His voice came out ragged, and his lust-filled eyes told me he was struggling to hold himself back.

“I don’t care,” I said seriously, “I’ll sign whatever I have to so I can have more of that.

” He looked at me for a second before busting up laughing.

He was so amazing to see. That smile that spread across his face was beautiful.

His dark eyes twinkled like they held the night sky in them, the way his head was tossed back as he laughed.

I reached out my hand, smiling up at him.

“You look so handsome like this,” I said, genuinely meaning it. He slowly stopped laughing, looking into my eyes. His hand went to the top of mine on his cheek.

“If we do this, we can’t let anyone know. You’re simply a client. I won’t be able to claim you as my anything, publicly. Yet.” He said, the seriousness back in his voice.

“I know. Not until we’re both retired.” He nodded. I knew he could get in serious trouble if anyone ever found out about us. “Can we talk more? About us?”

“Absolutely,” he said breathlessly, taking a deep breath, his voice coming out rough like he was on the verge of coming undone. “But I need to kiss you again.” He said as he pulled me impossibly close to him. It felt like, at that moment, he fused himself to me. Body and soul.

For eternity.

Wiping tears from my eyes at the memory of us, our first moments, I looked at my husband laying in his hospital bed.

The beeping was the only sound I heard, along with the ventilator, helping him to breathe through the tube down his throat.

Tubes were going in and coming out of him in every spot they could be placed.

He had an IV in his left arm as well as a catheter.

He had wires placed on his chest to monitor his heart and bandages around his head where his beautiful silver hair used to be.

His face was so swollen, I couldn’t even recognize that this man was my husband.

The only way I recognized him was his hands, his wedding ring, and the wallet that was in his bag of belongings.

His face was unrecognizable. My heart broke as I looked at the state he was in.

I kissed his hand, then leaned up and kissed his cheek ever so softly so I didn’t hurt him.

I didn’t want to cause him more pain as I whispered to him.

“Please don’t leave me, darling. I…I can’t…

” I choked back a sob, trying to swallow past the boulder-sized lump in my throat, “We haven’t even made it fifteen years.

You promised me an eternity. I need you, Jefferson.

I love you so much, please. Please don’t leave me.

” I begged him, tears fell from my eyes, landing on the hand I was holding.

"Please, God! Please don’t take him from me," I whispered into the beeping and noises of the machines keeping him alive, with no one else to hear my pleas but Jefferson.

And I prayed for the first time in years, with everything I had in me, that he would hear me. That he would fight. I held his hand as I prayed, falling asleep holding his hand and hoping with everything inside of me that I would get the privilege of taking care of him at home.