Between the Years

No profit. Not my characters.

In OFTM it said that Joe and Stephanie had seen each other from afar four or five times. I think it's unlikely living in a small burg like that where everyone knew everyone. I believe it could have been more often and they actually might have interacted a bit. So here is my AU version of what should or could have happened had they run into one another more frequently between the years. Also given in Nineteen Joe said that he'd been wanting to marry Stephanie for a very long time this story supports that as well. It's a one shot I promise!

Carol and Kimmy, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! To the best friends and writing partners ever! Thanks for everything! Especially helping with the beta on what was supposed to be a present. Your presence in my life is truly a gift.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2013 is filled with the best of everything! Thanks for all your loving support!

Stephanie's POV

There I was twenty-three years old and still needing my mother to remember to take care of me, because I'd let myself run out of something a girl cannot be without at that time of the month. I had my first apartment and a pretty great job as a buyer for E.E. Martin. I'd moved out of my parent's tiny house months ago, but in that moment, I was actually missing my mom's solicitous care to all things her children had ever needed or wanted, including those unmentionable things.

Having no choice, I had to make a quick run to the Shop and Save. Following horrible cramps all day at work, I knew it wouldn't be long before I needed supplies, and while I was at it, I planned to lay in a good supply of Tasty Kakes and a few candy bars as well.

I hated purchasing my own personal supplies, especially if it was a male clerk at the counter. And sure enough, my bad luck held. It was a guy at the cash register.

After grabbing my feminine products, I headed for the most crucial comfort of all for that special time of the month.

Chocolate—and lots of it!

But when I turned the corner to the next aisle, I stopped dead in my flip-flops.

Holy Cow!

Joe Morelli stood there in his policeman's uniform looking like something I wanted to devour. Hearing choirs of angels singing the alleluia chorus in my head, I tried to get them to put a sock in it, but they could never be silent around that guy! Not since I was a very young girl.

How did that damned aggravating man manage to get sexier and more attractive as he grew older? Of course, in my mind I always pictured that eighteen-year-old boy I'd passionately—and some might say crazily—given my virginity to at the Tasty Pastry.

He'd filled out since joining the Navy. His shoulders were broader, and his muscles were—hotter. His face had become more defined with downright chiseled features. He was an Italian Adonis to look at. Too bad he was such a friggin' asshole in every other way! I was nothing more to him than another one night stand—a notch on his bedpost and a number crossed off his little black book.

His blackened heart too no doubt.

We had ONE rather violent encounter after our night of unbridled lust, but I wasn't going to dredge that old memory up now. Suffice to say, I walked away unscathed. Fortunately, the same couldn't be said about him.

I'd see him at a distance after that from time to time. How could I help it in a small place like the Burg where everyone knew everyone! But I never so much as spoke a word to him—pretty much like most of our childhood.

I clearly remembered one of the few times we had spoken as kids. I'd been eight to his ten. We'd been at the park attending our school's year-end picnic. I'd indulged in a yummy, double-chocolate cupcake, iced with chocolate fudge and decorated with pink roses. He came walking by me, just as I stuffed my mouth full with the last enormous bite. Grinning that huge ass grin reserved for his friends at school directed toward me, I gave him an unappreciative scowl back.

"Hey Cupcake!"

"Ry ru walling me bat?" I asked as if I had marbles in my mouth. Swallowing that last scrumptious bite, I'd felt grouchy as hell. Who the heck did he think he was calling me anything?

"Well, you're pretty much wearing that gigantic cupcake you just ate. You have frosting on your nose, and I think there's even some in those crazy curls of yours." He reached out to investigate.

I slapped his hand away, but not before he gently removed a piece of the hardened pink icing from my hair.

"Jeez, relax—I was just trying to help you get it off!"

"I don't need your help, Joe Morelli! My mom says I have to stay away from you!"

"She does?" He seemed truly puzzled by that.

"Yep, she says you're a danger to anything female." I quoted it as though reciting one of the Ten Commandments.

Thou shalt not covet Joseph Morelli.

"I don't even like girls! I think they're all just gross—including you!" he grumbled and walked quickly away to play baseball with his friends.

I remember watching him as he swung the bat and ran the bases. I hadn't been able to stop myself from smiling. He'd been really good. And he was sort of cute. There'd been something different about him. Although I pretty much hated boys too, he always seemed to get my attention one way or another.

Okay, so I may have overreacted when I saw him four years ago for the first time after our one intimate rendezvous that'd never turned into anything more (no matter how much I'd wished it would). I hadn't spoken a word to him since the day I put the Buick in maim and mutilate mode during a moment of temporary and total insanity and ran over him breaking his no doubt multi-philandering leg in multiple fractious places. He must've actually harbored some guilt, because I was never so much as questioned by the police or anyone else about it.

But I never forgot the way he made me feel the first moment his hands touched me and his lips found mine. Vanquishing those feelings or those moments we'd shared together completely from my brain or my heart was turning out to be totally impossible. God knows, I tried, but there was something magnetic between us the second his path crossed mine that first time—and every single time since! I couldn't deny it anymore than I could deny I loved cake.

Any kind of cake.

Somewhere in my heart I knew I'd never truly love any other man. Why? How?

Only God knew! He'd been my first, and somewhere deep within me, there was an inner knowledge he was supposed to be my last too. Of course, seeing him now in those damned clothes he was wearing didn't help matters any.

I loved a man in uniform! Dark blue slacks with a light blue shirt and those military style epilates on his shoulders—the badge pinned so courageously over his heart. His dark, wavy hair curled temptingly, falling down over his collar. His physique was to die for. I knew that body all too well. Okay, maybe once, doesn't qualify as well. But over the years, I'd imagined it under me and over me more than once. His ass was legendary. It was all I could do not to lick my lips and add him to my daily, dessert menu.

Looking down at the clothing I had on, I nearly shrieked out loud. Holey, faded, and wrinkled cutoffs and a threadbare, stained t-shirt to match. My hair was zipped back into a high ponytail, and my normally perfectly polished fingernails were chipped and jagged. I didn't have a bit of makeup on, and my knee had a big bruise on it from falling on the darned steps on the way into work, that was bluish purple.

My mouth dropped open just as his head was about to turn in my direction.

Shit!

I was holding tampons and a bag of feminine napkins in my hands! I wasn't about to let him catch me like this after so much time had passed. I hated it, but the sight of him sent shivering chills up my back, while my stomach did that little up and then down rollercoaster thingy it always did whenever I so much as caught a glimpse of him.

Doing what any self-respecting, not wishing to be totally humiliated, woman would do, I turned tail and ran out of the store. The freckle faced, diminutive clerk was out the door behind me like a dog chasing a squirrel. He grabbed my arm and propelled me back into his establishment.

"Oh, no you don't!"

"Get your slimy hands off of me!" I shouted, irate and mortified to be in danger of meeting Joe head on while still holding—

"Oh Shit!" I uttered, watching my blatant stupidity came home to roost.

"You haven't paid for those!" the scrawny guy accused me, pointing at my embarrassing contraband just as Joe came into view. He'd obviously wondered what the loud scuffle was all about at the front of the store.

"Is there a problem here?"

His eyes filled with sudden and unmistakable recognition. I watched as they perused my rubber-clad feet and moved upward, the corners of his mouth curling as well. No doubt my bristly legs and 'seen-better-days' clothing amused him. OH hell! So much for making a run for it!

"I—I just—forgot!" I murmured, hating the smirk Joe's lips did that always made my heart turn to molten, melted goo.

"You didn't forget! You're nothing but another one of dem stinkin' shoplifters," super clerk snarled accusingly.

I read the snitch's nametag. "Barney, can I just pay for these and get the heck out of here."

"NO! Arrest her officer! She's a menace to society!" he barked angrily. "I'm calling the owner. I'm going to get a bonus for catching you red-handed."

My eyes pleaded with Joe to have mercy on me. He owed me after the disgusting poetry he'd written on walls all over town regarding our one and only intimate encounter.

"Uh—Barney, let's just talk about this calmly. I see no reason to get the owner involved just yet," Joe said, his eyes twinkling as he took in the aforementioned, never purchased items in my hand.

"Seems you walked out of here without paying Ms. Plum?" He cleared his throat. "Why is that?"

He put his hands on his mouthwatering hips as if already doubting any explanation I was about to throw his way.

"I—uh—I wasn't feeling well, and I just—terrible headache—long day in nothing but underwear does that to you—I mean—I uh—"

Blushing to the roots of my naturally curly brown hair, I stopped cold and pictured him picturing me in my underwear. Which, of course, did very bad or very good things, depending on how you looked at it, to my doodah.

"I—I didn't mean to leave without paying—" I stammered, feeling like I could have crawled into one of the coolers in the store and never have the heat completely extinguished from my cheeks.

"Bull!" the dorky, bonus-hungry kid spouted.

"That is tough being in your skivvies all day," Joe agreed, trying to stifle his laughter.

"I don't care if she was wearing a Hefty bag for a week. She's a damned thief, and I want her punished!"

The store clerk was clearly out for blood—mine!

"She needs to pay for her crime!"

Joe put his hand up to get him to quiet down.

"Why were you in such a hurry to leave?" he asked, his mouth quirking up at the corners even more. "You didn't see someone you knew did you? Someone you might be feeling mighty guilty about and wishing you hadn't mistreated the way you did with that Buick of yours."

"NO, of course not! You think I saw you and—why you're friggin' insane—totally certifiable, Morelli! Running you over was the best thing I've ever done!"

"Funny, I don't recall it that way. In fact, I'd say what you did at the Tasty—"

"Shut the hell up! You're an ass!" My eyes shot sparks in his direction.

"Am I?"

"I'll say you are!"

"And I say you turned tail and ran out of guilt the moment you laid eyes on me."

I snorted and shook my head in avid denial—not bothering to honor that stupid, albeit true, theory with an answer.

"I think I'm right on the money!" he insisted.

"Oh my God!" I growled before foolishly shooting out, "You have the ego of a small and maniacal dictator!"

Evidently, I'd forgotten how much I loved my freedom.

I took a step backward as far away as I dared without being accused of shoplifting twice.

"We both know nothing about me is small," Joe groused unhappily. "And if you want to get through this embarrassing situation without getting arrested, Stephanie, I suggest you stop with the childish insults."

"Fine, officer, arrest me! I dare you to!" I extended both my wrists together and gave him the dirtiest, most livid look I could muster amid my degrading, white hot embarrassment.

"You'll need to put your hands behind your back." He took a step forward, removing the cuffs from his belt. "You sure this is what you want?"

I glowered at him. The full force of my monthly ire was about ready to explode over him and any other person of male gender who dared piss me off.

He sighed. "Fine—Stephanie Plum you are under—"

"You're NOT really going to do it?" I screeched. Impaling his eyes with mine.

"Oh no? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?" he challenged.

"It was just—fine! I saw you! I hate you!" I spit it out like it was poison in my soul. "I didn't want to run into you ever again as long as I lived!"

The brightness of his chocolate eyes dimmed instantly and considerably, and we stood there—glaring. The air filled with electric tension, and I found that a tiny bit of me wanted to throw myself into his arms and take away what actually seemed like the pain I'd inflicted.

Nah—it couldn't be pain. He didn't even like me. I didn't have the power to hurt him no matter what I said or did. It was just wishful thinking that there was any feeling left in him for me at all—if there'd ever been any feelings to begin with.

He broke his gaze first, and my heart took a nosedive to land in a belly flop.

"Barney, it's just a misunderstanding. Ms. Plum's an old lo—friend," Joe explained hesitantly. If he'd said lover, I'd have punched him in the balls! "I think you can see she fully intended to pay. Can we just call it good this one time?"

"A friend that hates you? How is that even—?"

The damned clerk was pissing me off too! I almost kicked him in the shin but figured that'd result in silver bracelets and a night in jail. PMS could be very dangerous to my continued liberty. I chose to take a deep, cleansing breath instead.

"Barney, this matter is over. Take Ms. Plum's money and let her leave," Joe ordered.

I felt badly. He was being kind to me, which made me look even more ridiculous. I had to try to be the bigger person, if for no other reason than to be better than him!

"Thanks," I offered softly, almost imperceptibly.

"You're welcome, Cupcake," he said almost as indecipherably, turning away to go back to his shopping.

Cupcake. He called me Cupcake. I loved cupcakes.

Strangely, I found myself wishing Joe did too.

Joe's POV

How the hell did I let myself get talked into this boring, idiotic date? My dumb brother had foolishly promised his fiancé I'd go out with her cousin. We were attending the hospital Christmas charity ball—a simple evening of dinner and dancing. I was blackmailed into it like most of the favors my brothers had managed to weasel out of me my entire life.

The place was lit in multi-colored, twinkle lights, and there had to be twenty Christmas trees in every nook and corner of the building, spanning every color of the rainbow. It looked like the room had regurgitated Christmas all over the place.

I found out very quickly Adrienne's cousin was not the brightest bulb on the strand. She was the proverbial dumb blonde. I mean who in the hell would think that joining the Navy meant I had an Old Navy credit card? Then upon hearing it wasn't the Old Navy store but the actual Navy, she'd surmised I'd joined a club for admiring the color blue! I'd given up after the second attempt, loosening the tie choking my neck. This was going to one hell of a long evening!

Veronica was a pretty girl and well endowed, but even I needed someone with half a brain! And strangely, there was absolutely NO chemistry. Was there something wrong with me? Maybe I was coming down with the flu. She could've been my dear, old Aunt Rose for all the thrill I got looking at her. That wasn't like me at all.

I felt my forehead. Normal.

Shit!

Maybe I could pretend I was sick and excuse myself after dinner. Adrienne was already glaring at me, crooking her neck like I was letting her cousin down. She kept eyeballing me to make some kind conversation. Well, I'd tried! God, I really had.

First, I'd asked her if she liked to travel. Her answer had been she was hoping to go overseas to Canada soon or perhaps take a nice trip to Europe, as she'd always wanted to see Mexico!

Jesus, at least she was good for a laugh or two.

The other thing plaguing me was since I'd run into Stephanie Plum at the Shop and Save months ago, she'd been infiltrating my dreams much like she had after our first and only sexual encounter at the ripe old ages of sixteen and eighteen.

Now twenty-five years old, I still could not get that maddeningly gorgeous girl out of my head. Those huge, aqua-colored eyes and that crazy mane of dark curls had me hypnotized—again! No woman had ever done that to me before or since her.

But it was so much more than that.

Her voice had a lilt to it that did things to my head and heart. Her personality was stubborn. She got flustered and stuttered when she was nervous, and she kissed like an Olympian champion. Those kisses were unforgettable. Her body had been soft, perfectly curvy and pliant underneath mine. When we joined as one, some kind of weird and forever jolting current had remained in my memory. It had never been like that for me.

Adrienne kicked my leg, shooting me out of my thoughts like a cannonball and forcing me back to the present.

Somehow my brother Paulie had gotten the topic of conversation around to his favorite historical subject—the sinking of the Titanic. It was fitting, in light of where the evening seemed to be heading. Leave it to him to be enthralled with the sinking of an unsinkable ship. Adrienne was listening to him mesmerized, as if she hadn't already heard it thousands of times. We all had. Paulie even had a model of the ship he'd put together back in high school. You'd think he'd invented the original himself and was stupid enough to want to take credit for it.

"Did you know the Titanic sank in just a little over two and half hours?" Paulie wondered, making damned sure everyone knew he knew!

Veronica added her vast knowledge to this already boring conversation just as I was taking a sip of my drink.

"Yeah, that Hindenburg thingy was supposed to be unsinkable too and look what happened!" she said, nodding her head sagely and sounding much like a gun moll in a gangster flick.

I started to choke and laugh at the same time fluid siphoned up my nose.

Paulie stopped midsentence to stare at her, as if she'd grown two more huge boobs.

"The Hindenburg was a blimp!" Adrienne informed her cousin surreptitiously.

"I'll say it was! One minute on the water then blub, blub! Gone in the blimp of an eye!" Veronica snapped her fingers, and any hope left for this date went quickly down too.

Glug—glug—glug!

Just as I was struggling to get a breath, Veronica began slamming my back like a linebacker for the New York Giants. I looked up and coughed even more loudly when my heart stopped cold for an infinitesimal second.

There she was!

It was as though my previous thoughts had come alive, and I'd somehow manifested her. Stephanie Plum walked in the door, looking absolutely breathtaking on the arm of the worst man she could ever have picked to spend a minute with—let alone an entire evening. Her dress was candy apple red, and her hair was up with some of those temptingly soft curls running down to her cheekbones.

My God, she was beautiful!

Chad Bowman, my biggest nemesis in high school, pulled out her chair. He hated me, and I pretty much detested him too. How in the hell had she ended up with that jerk?

I couldn't take my eyes off her. Not even if I'd wanted to—and I didn't!

Steph's POV

How in the hell had I let myself get roped into this dammed evening?

Caught in a weak moment, I must've been ovulating or something when Chad asked me. God! Now I had to make conversation with someone who, though easy on the eyes, was as about as exciting as a blowfish! He'd already talked ad nauseam in the car about his favorite subject—himself!

Okay, Stephanie simmer down. It's just a few hours of your time. And it's not like hundreds of other eligible bachelors are knocking down your door for a date either! It's an evening out. Plain and—

I felt his eyes before I even lifted my head—Joe Morelli, looking as though he'd stepped off a GQ Magazine cover. Oh wow! He sat next to a royally racked, totally 'had-to-be-dyed' blonde. I barely noticed his brother or Adrienne. Our gazes met, and I only saw him. Even his phony tanned companion faded into the distance. His eyes were penetrating and soft at the same time. How did he do that?

Chad rattled on about his job or his cats or dogs—or maybe it was birds. I had no idea. Hell, it could've been tarantulas for as much as I was paying attention. My heartbeat was too busy accelerating like a car rounding the last curve at the Indianapolis 500.

The blonde tapped Joe's shoulder, and he looked away, giving his full attention to the little Barbie doll. I wondered if her brain was made of plastic too. What the hell did he see in her?

"So, Stephanie, how are you liking E.E. Martin?" Chad asked, apparently having realized he wasn't alone with a mirror after all.

"It's great. Good hours, nice benefits—great." Wow, Steph, you're sounding about as intelligent as Morelli's date looks!

"Uh good. How's your family?" He was making an effort. I needed to stop peeking at Joe and his Bimbo, and give Thad—I mean Chad—a chance.

"Good. Dad's still driving a cab, and Mom is busy in the kitchen. Grandma Mazur's doing her best to keep Grandpa from having a heart attack by feeding him everything he hates. He does his best to sneak anything loaded with calories, fat and carbs behind her back. Val is working hard on annoying everyone around her—you know, the usual."

I finished and took a deep, relieved breath when the band struck up its first number. I wouldn't have to come up with something inventive or remotely interesting for a few minutes if he asked me to dance.

"Would you like to dance?" Chad asked politely. Would I? Hell yes—with that Mediterranean hunk across the room!

We stood and began to slow dance. Other couples were dancing as well, and then I saw Pamela Anderson's twin navigating about the room, tightly ensconced in Joe's arms. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would feel like to have him holding me, instead of 'hands-nearly-groping-my-ass' Chad.

The band leader's voice rose over the music. "Hey we think it would be fun to mix it up a bit tonight. Since we're all here for a common charitable cause, it'd be nice to get to know one another. Let's throw a twist into the evening, shall we? We're going to do a variation on musical chairs. When the music stops, you switch partners."

A collective groan filled the air.

"Oh, come on now! You know you love the idea. And who knows; you might end up enjoying yourselves. Okay, everyone, as soon as the music stops, you trade."

The tunes filled the room again, and Chad held on even tighter to me if that was humanly possible.

Uh oh, Chad evidently didn't like to share.

Gliding across the floor, my eyes remained shut, for I was still wishing for someone else's arms to hold me. Suddenly the music stopped. I opened my eyes and looked over at the couple next to us.

My heart stuttered and stammered.

"I believe it's time to trade," Joe announced softly.

"Not with you, Morelli." Chad retorted firmly.

"Hey, you have to trade. That's the rules! You got to do what they say, or maybe we'll get thrown out!" Veronica fretted, snapping her bubble gum loudly.

"Yeah—we don't want to get thrown out now, do we, Ms. Plum." Joe 's eyes were full of mirth.

Veronica threw herself into Chad's arms, and he had no choice but to guide her across the floor far, far away from us.

"Dance with me?" Joe requested before gently taking me into his arms.

I was speechless. It took me a few seconds to recover from the all-too-wonderful surprise I'd been handed.

I finally came to my senses. "I don't think this is a very good idea, Morelli."

"No, but you're going to do it anyway—right? You can't cause a big scene by refusing to dance with a guy you hate—not at a charity ball at Christmastime. What would Santa give you for Christmas? I see lumps of coal in your future!"

I stifled a laugh. God, he could be sweet, funny and charming—a deadly dangerous combination.

We started moving to the music, and my breath caught in my chest.

"You better breathe, Cupcake, or you're going to pass out."

"I'm breathing! How big of an ego do you have anyway?"

"I've never heard IT referred to as an ego before," he teased. "Though it does have a personality all it's own. And may I remind you—you know the exact size already."

"And you've got a one track mind." I retorted, feeling his alter ego straining hard against my thigh.

Oh God! Be careful what you wish for!

He was smooth on the dance floor. Being in his arms again felt so natural. His hand held mine like it'd belonged there since the beginning of time. I didn't want the music to end. I didn't want to trade back.

Thoughts of trading brought the slinky blonde back into my head.

"So, who's the date?" I whispered into his ear.

"Paulie's fiancé's cousin. Believe me, it's a pity date, and you should be feeling very sorry for me." His eyes gleamed tantalizingly. "She has the personality of a five year old."

Twirling me around effortlessly on the dance floor, he whispered against my hair, "They should be playing "Lady In Red". It's definitely your color."

Again, I was without words.

He wasn't madly in love with his date. I didn't hate him. In fact, I wanted him—badly. I felt like I was eighteen again. If he said one more complimentary word, I'd marry him on the spot.

"Why so quiet? That isn't like you Plum."

"I was just—I don't exactly hate you, Morelli."

"No?"

"No."

"I'm glad. I don't hate you either—even if you did break my leg and leave me on the sidewalk to die."

"You're pretty alive from what I can tell."

He chuckled. "That I am. Care to leave this place and get a drink somewhere?"

"I can't. I'm here with—uh—Th—Chad!"

"You sound like you're having as much fun with him as I am with Veronica."

"Yeah?" I asked my hopes skyrocketing.

"Yeah," he confirmed, smiling and rolling his eyes.

"You don't like a woman—"

"Who doesn't know numbers beyond one to ten and thinks Canada is overseas? No, don't even get me started. Paulie is going to owe me big!"

Joe's POV

Stephanie laughed that tinkling sound I remembered from our night together. It was so beautiful to hear it again. I could listen to it easily for the rest of my life. Maybe there was a Santa Claus, because having her in my arms was like having every wish I'd ever made for Christmas come true.

I didn't want to let her go. She was something so special.

"Leave with me," I urged. "We can sneak out of here and go get some cupcakes." I pushed my luck, hoping to tempt her with something I was pretty sure she loved.

"Morelli, you know I can't. I've got to get back to my date, and you need to get back to yours. If it makes you feel any better, I do pity you. It's best however if we end when the music does."

My heart felt like it'd plummeted off an eighty-story building.

"Why?"

"Because you and me—we'd kill each other."

"I'd never harm a hair on your head," I assured her.

"No, but you'd do major damage to my heart."

"How do you know that?"

She hesitated, and I could see by the look in her eyes, it was because I already had.

I should've called her to at least explain why I couldn't see her again. If I had, it would've been because I'd gone permanently AWOL. One more move after the Tasty Pastry, and I'd have ditched the Navy idea and started something I'd never want to end.

And I couldn't do that.

My life had been set. She would've been a major distraction I couldn't afford. Hell, she'd always been a huge distraction. Being a cop now, I didn't know what kind of life I could even give a woman. I could be gunned down in the line of duty and leave her with two kids, a mortgage and a lot of painful memories and unfulfilled dreams. No way in hell would I do that to Stephanie. That's how much she meant to me. When had I fallen in love with her? Was it at the Tasty Pastry or long before that?

Shit!

The music ended. My arms opened, and I let her go.

"Merry Christmas, Cupcake," I said—not feeling merry in any way whatsoever.

"Merry Christmas, Morelli," she whispered. Her eyes glistened as Chad swooped in like a hungry vulture to sweep her out of my reach.

Steph's POV

Sirens blasted away, and I knew somehow they were headed for my building. I'd heard a few pops that sounded like backfire a few minutes before. Knowing how armed and dangerous the elderly people in my building were, it was only a matter of time before someone innocent got hurt.

Several cop cars pulled up. The minute I saw Morelli I realized I'd been looking for him more than anything or anyone else. He'd been promoted already. The grapevine had said his record was impeccable, and he'd become a detective faster than anyone on the force. He was naturally talented, and his spot on instincts and street smarts were a perfect combination rarely found in someone his age.

I was pretty proud of him. I'd never in a million years let him know that though.

But I was—just the same.

The Morelli family had always had a bad reputation, but Joe was the one exception. I knew what it'd taken for him to rise above the rest of the crazy clan and make something of himself.

My heart skittered when I heard a rap at my door. Had he come to check on me? Did he even know I lived there?

My heartbeat flittered like a hummingbirds as I went to the door. One quick peek and just as quickly the excitement I'd felt flew off. But I wasn't unhappy either, for it was my dear friend Eddie Gazarra instead.

Opening the door, I welcomed him inside.

"Did you hear anything, Steph?"

"I heard some backfiring noise. Was it gun shots?"

"Yeah, we think so on the third floor. Morelli is up there with the rest of the guys. I was canvassing the building for witnesses."

"Was anyone hurt?

"Nothing but a flesh wound."

Big Dog, another school friend and cop on the beat, came to the door. "Mrs. Bestler is pretty upset, Steph. She's asking for the nice young lady on two. I figured you're the only young lady in the entire building. Joe asked me to escort you up there."

Joe was there, speaking with two men and asking one of them to hand over the rifle while cautiously eyeing the knife in the hands of the other. I could see Mr. Grossman holding a white dish towel against his arm to stop the bleeding.

"Come on, you two. You're friends. What happened to make you want to shoot at each other?" His resonating voice was filled with a peaceful tranquility that had a calming effect—even on me. "Start and the beginning and tell me what happened."

"It's his fault!" said, pointing madly at his former friend Mr. Walesky. "I told him I was going to ask her out first, and then he went behind my back and took her away from me before I even had a chance!"

"So, this is over some woman?" Joe asked, barely hiding his amusement.

"Not just any woman—Mrs. Bestler!" they said in unison.

No wonder she needed me.

The old men both trained their eyes on me as I approached the apartment. Joe's eyes followed and met mine. His face softened momentarily, and I quickly ducked into Mrs. Bestler's place, glad to escape those chocolate pools. I could truthfully drown in them if given the chance.

Mrs. Bestler wrung her hands. "Oh Dear, thank goodness you came." She took my extended hand in hers. "I was so worried. I've never had two suitors fighting over me before! It's so disconcerting! I thought perhaps you had, and you could give me some advice."

"You—I—I uh no! No one's ever fought over me—I don't know what I'd do if they did."

"Really—a beautiful young woman like you? What's wrong with men nowadays?"

"I don't know."

I tried to imagine Joe fighting for me, but it was hard to picture, considering he wasn't in love with me. And there was no other guy in the picture. Chad and I had shared that one date. Since then, the pickings had been slim to say the least—not that I was actively looking because well—truthfully, Morelli was never far from my mind. Okay, he was always on my mind!

I missed seeing him. I missed his voice and his hands and his eyes gazing into mine.

I missed him.

How do you miss someone you barely even know? Only a handful of times in my life had we actually exchanged words, and yet I'd given myself to him without a doubt or question as to why. That wasn't like me at all. I always questioned and analyzed everything. I never accepted something at face value. It was so ingrained in my psyche to figure out what was going on in other people's heads and to question their reasons and motives.

I'd been so blind when it came to Joe Morelli. I hadn't even realized how easily his actions had gotten by me. I hadn't questioned who he was inside, or what he'd been doing there that night at the bakery. I hadn't thought twice about anything, because nothing in my life had ever felt so damned right before.

Of course, as soon as it'd ended I had nothing but questions. It'd been that way ever since. Why had he even wanted me? What had I been to him then? What if I'd gotten pregnant? What had he thought of me all those years?

And how many women had he been with since that night? Did he have more pleasure with them than he'd had with me? Of course! What a stupid question that was! I'd been sixteen—an inexperienced virgin! He'd probably laughed at what a clueless idiot I'd been.

I couldn't explain and hated the power he held over me, even after the thoughtless, cruel behavior I'd gotten in return from him. Of course, we both had been young. What had I expected him to do? Sweep me off my feet and walk off into the sunset?

I turned my full attention back to Mrs. Bestler, trying to annihilate the hot cop on the other side of the door from my mind.

"Stephanie, I like both men. But I'm not even sure I want a relationship. My job in the elevator takes up a good deal of my time."

She nodded her grey head reflectively. "I think I just want to play the field at this stage in my life. I was married for over fifty years to Harvey, and I can't picture anyone else by my side. He was such a good man. Besides, those two are friends. It wouldn't end well no matter who I picked!" Her hands flew up into the air, totally confounded.

I put her hand back in mine. "You're right. If you're really sure you can't love either of them, then it's probably best to stay alone."

"Yes, dear, I'm sure." She smiled warmly. "Stephanie, when you meet the right man, you just know! And nothing and no one will ever get to your heart like that again." She continued in a moment of total clarity, "I really hope that happens for you someday. There's nothing like the partnership and enduring love I've experienced. Once you find him, don't you ever let him go."

My eyes moistened. What if you found him, and he never had a clue about your feelings?

"What should I do, Stephanie?" she asked me with such innocence.

"You need to tell them." Taking her hand, we exited the apartment to join the others in the hallway.

Joe had managed to get both men unarmed. He was holding a rifle in one hand and a knife in the other. Loud bickering was still evident between the two perspective suitors.

"Mrs. Bestler has something to say," I informed them, indicating they needed to quiet down and give her the chance to speak.

"Yes, I do," she agreed in a soft, wobbly voice. "I'm not going out with either of you. I'm not looking for a hot relationship at this stage in my life. I want to have fun with friends. You two are friends to me. And that is all I'm ever going to want. I had the best man I could ever have in my Harvey, and I don't intend to take a chance on trying to find someone to fill his shoes. No one ever could! Now you two stop this tomfoolery right now and make up. Life's too short to fight over an old gal like me!"

Joe gave me a huge smile. I found my lips turning up, as our eyes met. My heart thumped like a friggin' rabbit was inside, hitting his foot like the dickens against my coronary walls.

Turning back to the rascals on both sides of him, he said firmly, "You two got it? The lady said no. There's nothing left to fight over. You guys need to put this behind you and move on—to two different women!" His look made it clear he meant business. "Now the paramedic said you need to go to the hospital and get that wound looked at, George."

"I'll take you, George. I'm sorry. If you want to press charges like you said, go ahead. I don't know what got into me. I can't even get it up anyway! What was I going to do with a girlfriend?" Fred asked, shaking his balding head sadly.

"That's okay, buddy. I'm pretty sure I would've had a heart attack the minute I took any of them blue pills. I ain't gonna press charges. You know me. I'm an old bag of wind!"

"Well you sure are, especially after those Mexican dinners at the Senior Center!"

As the two old men departed, Joe's eyes rested upon me again. There was some indescribable expression in them I'd never seen before. He smiled, and I returned it willingly. He really was a good man—a man I'd be proud to call my husband.

Where in the HELL had that come from?

I said goodbye to Mrs. Bestler and headed back to my apartment. Happily ever after wasn't going to happen with Joe Morelli. I had to stop those kinds of thoughts from even so much as ringing the doorbell of my mind!

"Bye, Morelli. You really are great at being a cop. I hope you have a terrific and long life."

I spoke the words aloud to make it final. My head knew there was no place for him in my future, and I wasn't about to give in to my obviously demented heart.

There was a knock on my door, and I noticed a loan police cruiser still in the lot.

No.

It had to be Eddie. Morelli was no doubt long gone.

I spied through my peephole.

It was him! I didn't know if I should run away or open the damned door. Deciding to open it, I left the chain in place.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey yourself. Everything under control now?"

"Yeah, I just came to say thanks for the help. Whatever you said to Mrs. Bestler defused a potentially endless and volatile problem."

"I didn't say much. Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, but I can only stay a minute. I've got paperwork waiting at the precinct."

"You don't have to come in."

"I'd like to."

Unlatching the chain, he stepped in, and suddenly my apartment felt small and closed in.

"You've got a good heart, Stephanie," he said, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"I never thought I'd say this, but maybe you do too, Morelli."

"How did you get her to reject both of them?"

"She asked me if I'd ever had anyone fight over me like that that. When I told her no, she realized on her own that she didn't want to cause them trouble. As she said, she's already had the one love of her life and lost him."

"That's kind of sad."

"Yeah. She really loved her Harvey."

"I meant that no one has ever fought for you."

"Well, maybe it will happen someday. You never know."

"I hope the best man wins."

"Me too, though I won't hold my breath."

"Oh, it will. I'm pretty sure you're going to break a few hearts before you ever settle down, Cupcake."

I found myself grinning. "Ya think?"

"I know." He nodded seriously. "I have to take off. Lock that door and watch out. There are some crazy old people living in this building."

He smiled one more time and then he was gone.

Joe's POV

I hadn't seen Stephanie Plum since our last encounter at her apartment. Nearly a year later, I heard she was seeing some fancy schmancy lawyer who'd swept her off her feet. I didn't allow myself to dwell on it, but sometime I couldn't deny I felt some pretty intense pain over it.

I'd made up my mind. A street cop's wife had a pretty stress-filled life. I wasn't going to marry anyone until I at least made detective. Not that I couldn't still be killed then, but it was less likely than being out patrolling the gang ridden streets of New Jersey every day.

I was a man with needs and continued to date, never finding anyone who even came close to making me forget I was in love with someone else. It was probably never going to happen for us, but it didn't change my feelings for her one iota. Damn, she was sexy, beautiful, tough and funny. She had a heart of gold. I knew it—even though I'd barely spent a whole week's worth of time with her in all the years I'd known her.

If she was happy with the lawyer, then I'd keep to the plan. No sense interfering with whatever was making her happy.

I kept up my resolve for the next six months, until I heard she was engaged to the lawyer. The wedding was coming up in three months.

I had to find someone who had an invitation to the wedding and get them to let me be their 'plus one'. I don't even know what was propelling me to do this insanely stupid thing, but some part of me needed to know this was truly what she wanted and that she'd be happy. It was important to me, and I couldn't trust the job to anyone else. I'd know the minute I looked into her eyes. How? I wasn't even sure, but I would. There was no doubt in my mind.

The thought of watching her walk down that aisle into another man's arms made my throat close. I had no choice in this though. She'd already chosen, and I couldn't change anything anymore, even if a part of me wanted to race into that church and tell her I loved her. I always had and always would.

But what if by some miracle she loved me too? Jesus, what if she did? What if I was full of shit and was letting the best thing that'd ever happened to me get away?

Steph's POV

I'd fallen as close to in love as I was ever going to outside of Joe Morelli. Dickie Orr was a great guy. Good looking and successful—a lawyer who'd at least take me out of the Burg and into a nicer neighborhood. He loved me. He treated me so well. And in bed, he wasn't bad at all. Did I have the fireworks with him I'd had with Morelli? Hell no. But I hadn't seen him in ages, and I didn't know when or if I ever would again.

I was settling for someone else.

Mrs. Bestler's wise voice kept coming back to haunt my head.

'When you find him don't let him go.'

I shook her words off, because sometimes the feelings weren't mutual. No matter how much you loved someone, if they didn't have those same feelings for you, there were no options.

My family loved Dickie. Even Val, who hadn't ever liked anyone I'd dated, thought he was a pretty good catch.

In three weeks, I'd become Mrs. Dickie Orr. I liked my name Stephanie Plum. Adding the 'Orr', made me want to say 'Or what'? Stephanie Morelli sounded so beautiful. It just sort of rolled off the tongue, and it beat Plum all to hell.

But it wasn't meant to be. My first love wasn't going to be my last. It made me sad—even a little weepy. Joe wasn't in love with me. He probably barely remembered I existed. He was dating a lot and had a different woman on his arm every time someone saw him. I knew, because Burg gossips never ceased to include him in the weekly report.

I wanted to see him one more time. I had to keep looking at my engagement ring to remind myself I had NO business even thinking of saying hello to Joe Morelli. Three times in the last two weeks leading up to the wedding, I'd dragged Mary Lou with me just to see if he would show up. Maybe I'd drop something in front of him, and he'd bend to pick it up. Maybe in that moment he'd see me differently than he ever had before. And if he didn't, it meant I needed to go through with my wedding plans.

What kind of a stupid game was that to play right before my marriage to Dickie?

I was certifiable. What if he did show up and pick up my tube of lipstick or candy bar. What would happen? Was I going to cancel this fast becoming a spectacle of a wedding to run off and elope with Joe?

No.

What an idiot!

Forcing myself to tend to all the last minute details of my impending nuptials, I knew I was doing the right thing. Right? Everyone had expectations of me. I couldn't let them down.

I'd caught my father's eyes on me a few times, as though he was worried, but as soon as he spied my curious gaze back, he'd turned away. I sensed he wasn't as sure about this marriage as my mother was. And I knew without a doubt, I was full of doubts.

The blissful day arrived all too soon, and I felt like I was going to hurl every three minutes. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run. Why in the hell had I ever agreed to commit myself to an institution like marriage? That's what it felt like—an institution—as if I'd lost my friggin' mind and was being committed as punishment!

My billowing, over-the-top princess gown was on, and the strains of pre-wedding music filled the bride's room. Val and Mary Lou scurried around me as though they were a couple of Cinderella's over-zealous mice getting me ready to attend the prince's ball.

But the clock had already struck midnight, and I needed some air. Badly. I sent both bridesmaids on insipid errands that had no real basis in actual need and took a step out to the courtyard where I could at least catch the breath I so desperately desired.

Ah.

Alone.

I craved the freedom I was about to give up forever.

The Azalea bushes rustled slightly in the breeze. They were beautiful shades of pinks purples and reds. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I imagined what it would be like if Joseph Morelli was the man I was marrying that day. I couldn't help it. Maybe it made me disloyal to Dickie, but not thinking of Joe would make me disloyal to myself. He was the man I'd always pictured to be by my side on the supposedly happiest day of my life.

He'd be there at the end of the aisle—his dark hair perfectly groomed, except for the wayward curling strands clinging to the collar of his pristine white shirt. I'd smile as I walked toward him, and his grin would light up my soul. He'd whisper how radiantly beautiful I was and call me Cupcake.

"Cupcake?" I heard it as though it were real. If I opened my eyes, I knew I'd want to cry, because I couldn't have heard anything. It was purely my wild imagination.

"Stephanie, are you all right?"

My eyes opened and my heart jumped a mile.

"I—what—Morelli what are you doing here?" No, I had to be dreaming. I blinked twice to make sure.

Joe's POV

Oh my God. This was even harder than I'd imagined it would be. She looked drop dead gorgeous in that crazy white gown—like a princess. Funny, when I'd rarely allowed myself to picture her as my bride; she'd worn something much tighter and clingier—not that she was any less stunning in that voluminous gown.

"I—came with my cousin Julie. She was in need of an escort, and I got roped into it. You look amazing."

"Thanks. I feel like the bride on a wedding cake topper—like a big glop of icing."

The corner of my mouth lifted slowly. "You look like a bride. You—are you okay? Why are you out here all alone?"

"I needed a breather," she explained, and my senses told me she wasn't totally at peace with this marriage thing. That and the fact her fingers were rolling the tulle on her skirt indicated she was damned nervous.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to intrude."

"You're not!" Her voice sounded strained. "Not at all."

"You sure? You look a little pale. Is everything okay? Do you need something?"

"I—I need—" She looked around her and behind me as though she expected something to appear out of nowhere.

Why did I get the feeling she was going to ask me to take her away from this ridiculous exhibition? If she did ask, I'd say yes. I knew it without hesitation. Desire to grab her hand and beg her to come with me was nearly overwhelming me.

"Anything you need I'll get for you."

"Why? Why do you even care about me? What are you really doing here, Joe?"

"I just—I wanted to make sure you were happy. I wanted to make sure you got the best man."

"Is there really a best man?"

"You tell me? Is Dickie Orr even close to what you want?"

"He's got everything any woman would want." She said it almost as if she were trying to convince herself more than me.

"You're sure this is what you want?"

"What good would it do me now if I wasn't?" she asked, her eyes darting away from mine.

"You're scared."

"No. I'm just fine, Morelli. You know me—I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to. You know how independent and stubborn I can be!"

"It's going to be okay, Steph. Everyone has fears going into marriage."

"How would you know?" she snapped.

"I don't—exactly, but I've heard it's normal to get cold feet and jitters."

"My feet are fine thanks! You better get back inside, or you'll miss the processional."

"Okay. If you ever need me for anything, Cupcake—just call. I promise I'll be there."

Tears welled in her eyes, and I wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.

"Would you tell my dad I'm ready when you go back in?"

"Yeah—be happy, Cupcake." My heart was burning hot. I felt like such a hypocrite saying it. I didn't want her to be anything but with me! I was nothing but a selfish bastard underneath all my well wishes.

"What else would I be—I'm getting married aren't I?"

I turned away and headed inside the church. Something kept shouting in my head to look at her one last time—to stop this bullshit and tell her I was madly in love with her—to beg her not to go through with this debacle of marriage.

I turned and opened my mouth. "Cup—

She was already gone.

Joe's POV

I'd heard all about how Dickie Orr had turned out to be the worst loser ever. I wanted to kick myself for not having stopped that debacle of a marriage when I'd had the chance. God forgive me. I should've known he'd hurt her worse than I ever had.

I'd seen Stephanie from a distance, and it damned near broke my heart. The pain in her eyes had been evident even from across a crowded room. I'd felt partially responsible for it, because I knew I could've stopped it. It wasn't my ego talking; it was my gut. Something in her eyes that day had told me she wanted more from me, but I couldn't see how I could ever give her everything she needed.

I was a full-fledged detective now. What I hadn't factored into my future life was the damned twenty-four/seven on call requirement of the job. I stumbled out of bed more nights than not, because apparently most maniacs did their best mutilating in the middle of the wee hours.

How could I have thought marriage would ever be a good idea with my career choice? Every time the damned phone rang, my wife would be awakened as well. Worse yet, I couldn't even think of having a baby being disturbed in the middle of the night. My wife would be constantly sleep-deprived, and I'd have a non-stop cranky kid—not to mention the growling I'd do at everyone and everything. Leaving your work behind when it was catching cold-blooded, insane killers was next to impossible.

Still, there was a burning desire in me all the time to see and talk to Stephanie. I'd been able to let go while she was married, knowing she was totally and irrevocably off limits. But now that she was free again, I could hardly stop thinking about her.

I was expected at a New Years Eve party and decided I didn't even want to take a date. What would I do at midnight if I did? There wasn't anyone else I wanted to be with but her.

Shit—I had it bad!

Redoing the tie on my black suit, I ran my fingers though my hair one last time. Would she be there? Carl was having it at his place, and I knew she'd be invited. But maybe she was still grieving over that louse and her broken marriage and wouldn't feel like socializing yet.

Heading out the door, I wished I could just stay home and catch up on some badly needed sleep.

Steph's POV

Why had I let Mary Lou persuade me to attend Carl's party? Shimmying into my silver dress and red, rhinestone-studded heels, I longed to throw on some sweats and drown my sorrows in a bowl of ice cream. Luckily, I'd only sublet my apartment when I married Dickie and was able to get it back shortly after the divorce became final.

I'd tried to make the marriage work, but when you weren't madly in love, it was a tough task to pull off. I thought he'd loved me, and I could work at loving him back the way he deserved. Turned out he'd deserved nothing more than total castration!

The gigantic asshole hadn't been faithful to me for a single day of our marriage. He'd even cheated on me during the honeymoon in Bermuda. Oh, the myriad of great excuses he'd come up with for why he kept disappearing! But I'd seen the looks he'd gotten from our tall blonde concierge several times, and it made me wonder. Well, I had nothing to wonder about anymore—not after I caught him with Joyce Barnyard on our dining room table. I'd screamed my head off; he'd screamed back, informing me he found me totally unsatisfactory in bed. Even our honeymoon, he'd had to console himself over the big disappointment I'd turned out to be to him.

I married him. I gave up my name for him. I gave up my entire identity for him! NEVER again as long as I lived would I allow a man to control my destiny! Marriage was for baby making machines and women who preferred a life of servitude. NOT me! I wasn't going to ever make that same mistake twice!

All thoughts of Joseph Morelli and marriage had been shoved WAY out of my mind. Okay, maybe they resided in a distant corner of my brain where dust quickly settled. I'd thought of him since my marriage ended and wondered what he'd do if I actually picked up the phone and called him? He'd said I could if I ever needed him. Sometimes I really felt like I did. Other times, I was in the mode of denying a man's presence anywhere near me for the foreseeable future.

Would he be there tonight? Who would his date be? How would it feel to see him dancing with her and holding her in his arms? A part of me would always be in love with Joe Morelli, and the other part would run from that love like I would a swarm of stinging bees.

I'd had enough heartache to last ten lives! I didn't need Morelli bringing me any more! Never again would I depend on anyone else for my happiness.

Grabbing my black wool coat, I headed to Carl's party with very little hope of having a good time.

It was close to midnight, and the house was so damned crowded I could barely breathe. Someone shoved a flute of champagne in my hand, and Carl came by with a tray of those cardboard hats I hated to wear and a noisemaker I wasn't remotely in the mood to blow.

I turned around to set my champagne down and make my way toward the door. I didn't belong here at all. The crowd pushed me, and suddenly my hands encountered a silky black suit. I looked up into the dark, ebony eyes of Morelli.

His hands reached out gently, holding my bare arms to steady me a little.

"Hey, Cupcake—how have you been."

Joe's POV

"Don't you know? Everyone in the Burg knows!" she said, blushing as though it had just hit the morning's issue of the Trentonian

"I'm sorry things didn't work out."

"Yeah, well maybe I should've had colder feet."

"You knew that day didn't you?" I asked, wishing for the millionth time I'd rescued her from her impending pain. What kind of man would knowingly let her be so publically humiliated and forever changed by his cold, cruel behavior?

I had to stop myself, because, in truth, I'd done the same thing on a lesser scale and with the excuse of my drunken, stupid youth. But it'd changed her. I'd hurt her, which made me just as bad as Dickie Orr. The only difference was I'd fallen crazy in love with her. I just wasn't sure what the hell to do about it? My job, her broken heart—I knew it wasn't the right time. And I had to face that maybe it never would be. How would she trust any man after what had happened to her, let alone me.

"I wanted to run—that's why you found me in the courtyard. I wanted to get on a magic spaceship and head for another planet that day."

"I should've helped you do it."

"Really? You would have?"

"I said I'd get you anything you wanted—remember?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, I do."

"I would've helped you go wherever you needed to go."

"Why would you even care Morelli? You and I aren't even friends."

"We could be—if you wanted us to."

"I'm not sure what I want anymore," she said softly. Her eyes belied her words. She was gazing into mine with such vulnerability. I couldn't let it happen. I could say everything I'd been holding inside for years. I could give her the love she deserved.

I stopped my irrational thoughts dead in their tracks. She was way too fragile, still reeling from her divorce.

God, I was still in no position to give her the life she deserved no matter how much I loved her. I had a bachelor pad, and my salary barely covered all my bills. How could I take care of a wife?

"You don't need to know everything this minute. You've been through a horrible time, and you need to give yourself healing permission."

"Healing permission?" she echoed, smiling just a bit.

"Yeah. You're like the walking wounded now and—well it just takes time. You'll feel better, and you'll meet someone new. And when you do, he'll be the best man he can be."

"What makes you so sure, Morelli?"

"Because a woman like you makes a good man want to be the best man."

Suddenly, the room was filled with a loud countdown to the New Year. She smiled a dazzlingly sweet smile. We were shoved into one another, and I put my arms around her to prevent her from being bruised and battered by the over-zealous but happy crowd.

"Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One!"

"Happy New Year!" the room shouted in heartfelt, off-key enthusiasm.

"Happy New Year, Morelli," she said, looking up at me with fondness in her eyes.

I bent my head down toward her glossy lips, and we smiled as we connected again—at last. Tasting her for the first time in years, the memory jarred me to the core of my being. The kinetic New Year's energy shot from my body into hers and back. The kiss deepened, and my mouth opened. Her lips parted, pressing passionately back into mine, while soft murmurs escaped our throats. The noisy crowd receded around us.

We were the only two people in the room—hell, the world!

"Happy New Year, Cupcake. I hope this year, and all the years ahead turn everything around for you."

And they did in ways I never could've imagined.

Steph's POV

His kisses sent sparklers of anticipation dancing through my body. I was nowhere near ready for any man. My heart had been shattered into a zillion pieces, and my trust was at an all time teetering low. It would be quite a while before I'd open up completely again, but something in Morelli's eyes made me think our association wasn't nearly over.

His arms held me tightly and protectively against his chest, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope.