Belly And Jeremiah Novels & Stories

I felt the tension leave my shoulders the second the door opened. Jeremiah stepped out. He looked sharp, his eyes scanning the scene until they landed on me. He must have gotten a text from Richard. He didn't waste any time walking over. He stepped right up to my side, his shoulder brushing mine. The heat coming off him was grounding. It reminded me that I wasn't standing alone against them anymore. Jeremiah didn't look at Barnabas or Portia with anger. He looked at them with pity, which I knew would hurt Barnabas’s pride far more than a shout would.

Yoel and I turned in unison to find Jeremiah clutching a basket of eggs, staring at us with his mouth wide enough to hold one inside. We were doomed. The only thought running through my head was whether diving into the nearby live fish tank and playing dead would still give me enough time. Jeremiah's eyes darted between us and the mountain of chips in the cart. Then his expression shifted from shock to confusion to pure terror, as if he had uncovered some cosmic secret.

Riley had been checking his inventory when the man's eyes opened, the last of the ogre drops settling into place, and for a second he thought he'd misheard him. "…what?" he said. Jeremiah didn't repeat himself like it was a strange question. He pushed himself up slowly, deliberately, one hand braced against the ground as the other came up briefly to his side, testing, checking, his expression tightening slightly before settling again. Then his gaze lifted—not to Riley, but past him, locking onto the cave entrance with sharp focus. "My daughter," he said. "She's here," Riley replied, turning slightly as the girl moved into view again, already at Jeremiah's side before the words had fully sett

In the middle Liam and Ella were seated, and Jeremiah was singing and dancing between the last row and the middle row. "Dude, I don't want to lose my hearing capability with your awful singing. Cut it down will you?" Liam complained. Jeremiah gave him a 'Are you crazy ' look. "Are you saying that my singing is bad?" Jeremiah demanded, and added a huff. "Yes" came four voices in union. That made Jeremiah to make a sour face, while the rest Started to lough at his expense.

However, it was already late and he still hadn't returned. "Don't be careless again. Luckily it's just a small cut on your finger. If it was bigger, Ben would have scolded me," added Jeremiah, then put on his stethoscope and placed it on my belly. "Any complaints? Nausea, vomiting, or anything else, maybe." "Not at all. Just a little oddity that I think you already know about. If not, maybe Ben has told you." "About your pup's reflexes and sensitivity?" he asked to confirm.

Lips that felt like they were burning their imprint into mine. I pressed my fingers to my mouth. What happened after that? Before I could spiral any further, the door opened. I froze. Jeremiah walked in, carrying a tray. He looked infuriatingly calm, dressed in dark slacks and a plain black T-shirt, his hair slightly damp like he’d just showered. The tray held a bowl that smelled… amazing, a glass of water, and what looked suspiciously like headache pills. "Good morning," he said mildly. My brain short-circuited.

Jeremy insisted, sharing a glimpse of his own painful experiences. "Yeah, right," Melissa replied skeptically. Jeremy chuckled, his gaze meeting hers with warmth. "Believe it or not, I wasn't born rich, despite what you might think. I went through my fair share of hardships growing up," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. Melissa's eyes widened when she realised his vulnerability. She hadn't expected Jeremy to open up about his past. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said softly, her teasing demeanor giving way to genuine empathy.

Daniel pulled me gently as we walked away from Lorenzo, “I promise to call you,” I said walking away from him, We walked down the stairs into the main hall as we kept walking, I slowly kept looking for Jeremiah so he won't be worried when I do leave. Daniel noticed it making him stop. He turned to me and cupped my cheeks, “What's wrong baby girl? You keep flipping your head like you're searching for someone,” he said worried, I exhaled, “Jeremiah,” he looked at me confused, “the person I'm looking for is Jeremiah, he's my personal body guard,”

Jeremiah’s heart skipped a beat, his bravado faltering for the first time in years. “Bala,” he stuttered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “I was told you showed up days ago.” Bala’s lips curled into a cold smile, her eyes never leaving his. “Jeremiah,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “How the fuck are you not dead?” The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Jeremiah’s mind raced, his usual confidence crumbling under the weight of her gaze. He had always known that Bala was a force to be reckoned with, but this—this was something else entirely. She remembered. She remembered everything.

“Are you...what...did someone do this to you? Who?!” Jeremiah didn’t answer. He pushed past her slowly, heavy steps echoing in her apartment, and collapsed onto the couch like a sack of broken bones. A long groan left his throat as his head hit the cushion. He reeked of whiskey. “Jeremiah,” she repeated, kneeling beside him, her voice full of concern. “We need to go to the hospital. This looks very serious.” “I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, voice hoarse. She touched his face gently, and he winced.