Twisted Devotion

Forty Six

Marcus led Jess gently into the kitchen, his hand resting on her shoulder as they walked. She looked so drained, so fragile, and he felt an unrelenting urge to take care of her, to help ease some of the weight she carried. He guided her to sit down, then moved to the stove, finding the kettle and setting it on the burner.

As he waited for the water to boil, he glanced over his shoulder, watching Jess. She had her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her expression distant as she stared down, lost in thought. Once the tea was ready, he set a mug in front of her, taking a seat across the table and giving her a small, encouraging smile.

"Here," he said softly. "This should help a bit."

Jess wrapped her hands around the warm mug, taking a deep breath as the heat spread through her fingers. She looked up at him, her eyes still a little red from crying. "Thank you," she whispered, managing a small, grateful smile.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Jess spoke, her voice low and shaky. "I just... I can't stop thinking about Ava. Every time I close my eyes, I see her... with him. I keep wondering if she's alright, if she's scared... if she's given up hope." Her voice cracked slightly, and she paused, gathering herself. "I miss her so much, Marcus. I just want her home. I want her safe."

Marcus reached across the table, his hand resting on hers. He met her gaze, his eyes steady and full of compassion. "Jess, we're going to find her. I promise you, I won't stop until we bring her home. She's lucky to have you as a friend. You've been so strong for her, and I know she's holding on too—because of you."

She nodded, biting her lip as she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall again. Marcus stood, offering her his hand, and she took it, allowing him to guide her into the living room. He settled her onto the sofa, then retrieved a soft blanket from a nearby chair, draping it over her shoulders.

As he tucked the blanket around her, he gently smoothed her hair, his fingers lingering as he wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. Jess closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, letting out a soft, shaky breath. Marcus's heart ached, seeing her like this, so raw and open.

"Here," he murmured, "just rest. I'll be right here."

But Jess wasn't content with him simply sitting beside her. She tugged on his arm, pulling him down onto the sofa next to her. Her boldness caught him by surprise, and for a second, he hesitated, unsure of what she wanted. But Jess leaned into him, nestling herself into his side, her head resting against his chest as if this was where she'd always belonged.

Marcus wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. He could feel her breathing slow, her body relaxing as she settled into his embrace. He allowed himself a moment to take it in—the feel of her warmth against him, the softness of her curls brushing his cheek.

In that instant, he realized just how much he admired her confidence, the way she wasn't afraid to seek comfort when she needed it. She was brave, resilient, and utterly captivating. And right now, she wanted him—to be close to him, to feel his warmth, to let him be the one to reassure her that things would be alright.

He leaned down, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. "I'm here, Jess. And I'm not going anywhere. Everything's going to be alright."

As her fingers lightly gripped the fabric of his hoodie, Jess sighed, finally allowing herself to relax, wrapped in his embrace. And as they sat together, Marcus realized he would do whatever it took to keep that promise.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room. Marcus stirred, blinking as he took in the sight before him—Jess curled up on top of him, her head nestled against his chest, her steady breathing a soothing rhythm. A surge of warmth flooded his chest as he looked down at her, the peaceful expression on her face reminding him of just how deeply he cared for her. It felt so natural, holding her like this, as if they'd been made to fit together.

But the moment was broken by the faint sound of the kettle boiling in the kitchen. Marcus carefully shifted, easing himself out from under her without disturbing her sleep. Jess let out a small sigh but didn't wake, and he pulled the blanket over her shoulders before heading toward the kitchen.

When he entered, he found Dr. Martin standing by the stove, watching the kettle with a thoughtful expression. Three mugs were lined up on the counter, waiting. Dr. Martin glanced up as Marcus entered, giving him a small, knowing smile.

"Morning, Detective," Dr. Martin said, his voice soft but warm.

"Dr. Martin." Marcus's voice was a little rough with sleep, and he hesitated, a twinge of guilt tugging at him. He took a breath, deciding to address it directly. "I... I didn't mean to stay. Jess had a rough night, and I just wanted to make sure she was alright. I hope it didn't—"

But Dr. Martin raised a hand, stopping him. His expression was calm, kind, and the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Marcus, you don't need to explain. I know Jess, and I know how she feels about you." He gave Marcus a small, understanding smile. "I can see it every time she talks about you. The way her eyes light up, the trust she has in you... She's smitten, Detective. You bring her a kind of comfort that I haven't seen in a long time."

Marcus was taken aback, momentarily at a loss for words. He'd known Jess felt close to him, but hearing it from her father—a man who'd always put Jess's happiness above all else—was different. He hadn't realized how much she might care for him, or how obvious his own feelings must have been.

Dr. Martin poured the coffee, his gaze softening as he continued. "And it's not just her," he said quietly, glancing at Marcus. "I see the way you look at Jess. It reminds me of how I used to look at my wife, Sara. Like she was the most perfect person in the world."

A wave of emotion swept over Marcus, leaving him momentarily speechless. He had never thought anyone else had noticed, but hearing Dr. Martin's words stirred something deep within him. He looked down at the coffee mug in his hands, his heart heavy with the weight of this newfound realization.

"Jess... she's special," Marcus said softly, almost to himself. "I'd never want to hurt her or do anything to take advantage of her trust."

"I know," Dr. Martin replied, his voice steady. "That's why I'm glad it's you by her side. She deserves someone who cares for her, who sees her for who she is. And if that's you... then I know she's in good hands."

Just then, a small noise came from the living room, and Marcus looked over his shoulder to see Jess stirring awake, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up. Dr. Martin offered him a knowing nod, passing him two of the mugs.

"Go on," he murmured. "She'll be happy to see you're still here."

Marcus took the mugs, feeling a quiet gratitude for the man standing before him. As he walked back into the living room, he couldn't help but feel a surge of resolve. Dr. Martin's words had lifted some of the doubt he'd held, leaving him certain of one thing: he cared deeply for Jess, and he wanted to be there for her in every way he could.